22. she/her. minors/ageless blogs are blocked. intense hyperfixation’s. multi-fandom blog. (prev. starepiphany) gifs
474 posts
Choices,
choices, 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐓
summary. just a quick shortie where ratchet gets tired of you not listening to him.
warnings.there’s a little bit of smut?, just some touching (f receiving), fem human reader, reader has vagina, bayverse or prime ratchet it’s not specified
authors note. not doing a part two, but maybe i’ll do a different plot with the same idea. sorry for any mistakes.


“R-Ratchet, please-” You try to say, but you’re only cut off by your own throat betraying you as it lets out a loud whimper.
“What have I told you about messing with things you’re not supposed to?” Ratchet grumbles, the tip of his digit hovering over the softness of your clit.
His eyes reach yours, waiting for an answer, but as he expected, he receives nothing but your stubbornness. Your hips roll all on their own, desperate to feel more of Ratchet’s touch; but your attempts are useless. No matter how much you raise your hips, or whine, or beg, Ratchet keeps his digit where he wants it. But, it was your own doing that resulted such actions.
“I’ve explicitly told you, time and time again, to stay away from most of the things in my lab; and yet you still disobey.” Ratchet explains leisurely, taking his time with his words, carrying them on just like he’s doing with his digit against your stiff nub. It made him sound condescending, which had you blooming with irritation and arousal.
“Now, I’m going to give you a chance to finally make a smart choice. Will you listen? Or continue to be a spoiled brat?” The medic asks, his finger coming to a complete stop to ensure you that he will not continue until you give him the answer he’s looking for.
You don’t know what set you off; him implying that your past decisions were stupid when they very much were not (to you, at least), or calling you a spoiled brat (which you wouldn’t admit had sent tingles up your spine), but before you could comprehend an actual rational decision, your sharp tongue slips on it’s own.
“Fuck you.” You spat.
Ratchet growls before flipping your body over, your tummy landing against the cold steel of one of his lab tables while he places his hands underneath your hips to raise your ass in the air. Though his body was mass displaced to fit against your own, he was still much larger than that of a human. His shadow casted over your arched body, making you writhe in excitement.
“You always have to make things harder than it needs to be.” He huffs, but a deep chuckle escapes not long after.
“But I would be lying if I said I didn’t like it.”
— 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑
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More Posts from Jeepersbxch
earn it
boba knows when something is wrong
warnings: 18+; NSFW; boba knows his girl isn’t supposed to be super tight, he knows he’s gotta earn the pussy
“That feel good, girl?” he asks, voice low in your ear. You squirm against him, lower back pressed against his hard cock through the thin layer of his boxers.
“Yeah, Boba, fuck,” you gasp, his large fingers stroking your clit through your panties. The wet spot on the fabric had grown considerably since he’d brought you into his chambers and stripped you of all your clothes except the thin underwear.
His response is a low groan as he watches your chest heave, hard nipple between his fingers. “That’s it, girl, come for me,” he groans. “Come for me before I even take those pretty little panties off.”
It’s the husky growl of his words and his lips against the sweet spot on your neck that push you into your first orgasm, it’s a fairly small one, but your body quakes nonetheless. “That’s it, girl,” he coos, over and over in your ear, fingers never slowing against your clit.
And when you’ve recovered, when he’s looming over you, cock in one hand and the other keeping your legs spread, he’s repeating it then, too. “That’s it,” he says, “Are you ready?”
You nod.
He sinks into you with a groan, his forehead falling into your neck. There’s a burn from the stretch, but you don’t say anything, it’ll go away when he starts to move.
“Fuck, mesh’la,” he grunts, slowly drawing out of you, pushing back in. “You sure you’re ok? You feel tight.”
You don’t respond for a moment, hoping the burn will go away, willing yourself to relax because you want this, you know you do. But your body doesn’t listen. “It hurts a little,” you admit. Boba pulls out of you slowly, drawing back to look you in the eye. “I’m sorry.”
“Why should you be sorry?” he questions. He’s clearly frustrated with himself. “It’s on me, mesh’la, I got ahead of myself.”
You look into his eyes, they’re still twinkling, they’re still kind. “I’m a selfish man, mesh’la,” he says, bringing his lips to your ear. “But not with you. You deserve better than that, girl. You’re smart, you know that.” The phrase used to go you deserve better than me, but you’d gotten him to break that habit.
Without missing a beat, he kisses down your neck, over your tits, over stomach, hands groping at the meat of your body as he goes. When he reaches your cunt, his eyes widen. He’s right, he’s never selfish with you, though he enjoys eating you out after he’s come inside you the most.
“Should’ve told me I didn’t do enough,” he scolds lightly, tongue delving into your pussy, bringing your wetness to your clit, lapping at your juices. “You’re smart,” he says between licks “you remember what Fennec told you that night? Never let a man fuck you until he’s earned it,” he tells you. He’s still in the habit of repeating Fennec’s advice while you fuck, as if he hasn’t completely ruined you, as if you would ever fuck another man without him.
After that, Boba’s quiet except for the lewd sounds coming from his tongue on your fat cunt. The way he sucks at your clit, the way he gropes at your tits and squeezes your hips, he’s working for it. Maybe the advice was for him.
“Need you to come on my face, mesh’la,” he groans, vibrations shooting up through your body. Your hips wriggle, but Boba is unrelenting, his hot tongue following you wherever you squirm. “Come on, atta girl,” he moans as your legs start to close around his head. His hands squeeze at the fat of your thighs, encouraging your thrusting into his mouth.
You lose yourself in his touch, lost in your orgasm, legs shaking and aching, chest heaving, eyes clamped shut and head thrown back. Boba loses himself, too, hips rutting against the mattress while his tongue fucks you into overstimulation, his moans growing loud while he guides your body through aftershocks.
When the room quiets again, when your legs relax to sitting on his shoulders, when his tongue moves lazily along your thighs, you whisper, “you earned it.”
He chuckles his low, gravely chuckle. “A bit late.” He sits up, you see his cock glistening in his cum, the hair on his stomach caught in the mess and the sheets with their wet spot. Boba’s grinning.
“That’s so kriffing hot,” you breathe.
He chuckles again, grabbing your panties to clean himself off. “Sorry I can’t fuck you,” he says, knowing tonight he doesn’t have the energy to come again, knowing that you understand but he still feels like he has to apologize.
“Why should you be sorry?” you say, repeating his words from earlier.
“Smart girl,” he laughs, laying beside you. “But usually I fuck you until you can’t think straight.” He presses a kiss between your breasts, “What else do you want tonight, mesh’la? My mouth again? Fingers? I’m sure fennec would be happy to strap in,” he jokes.
The idea of Fennec’s silicone cock inside you while Boba tweaks your nipples and whispers praises in your ear sounded great, but your blinks were growing longer. “Can I just hold you?”
Boba nods, settling into your side with a groan, his warm hand settling onto your breast like it always does. His body is like a furnace in the cold air of the underground palace, lulling you to sleep with ease.
besties be expecting a part ii with miss fennec bc the gears are already turning
Jess, I have another headcanon if you're still doing them. If not, feel free to ignore. Din Djarin absolutely loses it when he finds out you like getting your ass spanked.
Ahhh - TESS, YES! I have been thinking about this all day, what an incredible HC. 💖 This honestly deserves its own fic. Thank you so much, my friend.

(Send me a NSFW headcanon and I’ll write a 5 sentence ficlet about it)
Din Djarin x F!Reader
Tags: Spanking, PiV
There isn’t a thought behind the harsh slap on your ass, just a slight miscalculation of distance on Din’s part as his hand moves to angle your shoulders down as he pounds into you.
His apology fizzles out on his tongue as he registers the low, needy groan coming from your lips, the sharp tightening of your pussy as it clenches down around him.
“Fuck, pretty girl. Did you like that?” His voice teeters on incredulous, and his hips seem to react unconsciously, rutting against you, pressing harder and deeper.
“Please, again,” You want to feel the sweet burn so badly that you can hardly form words as you push back against him, meeting his thrusts, your mouth open and panting against the sheets.
His answering growl is low, a rumble through his vocoder, his hand cracking down against your skin with intent this time, “Knew you were fucking perfect. Can’t wait to paint your pretty ass red.”

Bred
Din Djarin x F!Reader
Rating: E | 6.1k words
“Don’t push me.” His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard it, practically a growl.
“Or what?” You taunt, your self-preservation disappearing faster than credits at a sabacc table, “You’ll fuck a baby into me?”
The silence that fills the room is absolutely deafening.
—-
Or - Mando realizes he has a Breeding Kink
Tags/Warnings: Breeding Kink, No Pregnancy (but talks of it), Praise Kink, light sub/dom-ish, did I mention praise kink?
[Also posted to A03 here!]
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What About Now

Rating: M | This is smut, no one under 18! Minors, DNI!
Summary: Sex pollen with Whiskey | Agent Whiskey is a thorn in your side, a name you’d prefer be kept out of your ear. But he blows into town with a mission sent from HQ and you have no choice but to deal with your complicated past.
Warnings: Technically dubcon (it’s sex pollen but they’re very willing), fuck or die kinda, unprotected p in v, some exhibitionism, feelings, one use of ‘daddy’ (blink and you’ll miss it). I think that’s it?
Pairing: Agent Whiskey x fem!Reader
Word Count: 34.1k (yes, that’s 34,143 words; no, I don’t have anything to say for myself)
MASTERLIST
“Well, now, sugar. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
Though you’d heard the door to your office open and the tap of boots against the hardwood floor, you hadn’t paid it any mind. Statesman’s New Orleans Headquarters was always bustling with activity and people were always stepping into your space for one reason or another when your door was cracked. You’d assumed - wrongly - that it was your assistant bringing another file that needed your signature, or maybe your second-in-command arriving early for the daily briefing.
However, none of the scenarios you imagined could’ve prepared you for the reality you were faced with.
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Chance

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!
Summary: Dieter Bravo has propositioned you before, asked if you wanted to sleep with him - offered himself up for your pleasure. Now, when he asks if you want to go back to his hotel room, you decide to take a chance.
Warnings: Recreational drug use, drinking, protected p in v, yearning, little bit of tummy worship, reader has pierced nipples, Dieter is a menace. (If there’s anything else, please let me know and I’ll tag it!)
Pairing: Dieter Bravo x fem!Reader (co-star!Reader)
Word Count: 10k (WHY! This was supposed to be a drabble!)
General Masterlist | General Taglist
The pounding bass of some godawful influencer’s DJ set, heavy and pounding and lacking any sort of rhythm, reverberates through your chest as you linger near a group of costars. The VIP section of the club, though normally less crowded, is packed, overwhelmingly full of people - executives, celebrities you’ve only met in passing who are here to be photographed, influences who circle you like flies, friends you’ve already shared too many drinks with - and you can feel the weight of it all settling heavy on your chest.
There is no space to breathe, no fresh air to be found - it all smells like this designer perfume or that one, sprayed on by the gallon in an effort to keep high end sponsorships - and despite the vodka loosening the knot in your chest, the tingling sensation remains in the tips of your fingers. Each breath is shallow, not quite enough to satisfy the ache in your lungs, but enough to keep you standing as the crowd continues to surge.
Though actors have earned a reputation for being narcissists who feed off crowds of adulating fans - a well-deserved reputation, in the case of many you’ve worked with over the course of your career - the idea of spending the rest of the night trapped in this club, hidden away in a VIP section for people to gawk at makes your stomach churn. There are too many people, none of whom you actually want to spend your night with, but this is the final cast event your rep convinced you to sign on for so you swallow the remainder of your drink - straight vodka, at this point; enough to make your body warm and ease a touch of the annoyance you feel - as the crowd surges.
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