#I just really liked that end line so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

giggly-argent · 2 months

Text

Late Lunch

lmao this Technically isn't finished but I gave up at the end so! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (loosely based it off tht one pic of Ori that I'll put below the cut ♡)

Word Count: 3184

The employee lounges in Aster's castle were just as decorated as the rest of the palace, with the spaces for the highest ranking officials being the most lavish. Massive windows overlook the well-manicured courtyard garden, bathing the room in soft, golden light. Rich tapestries line the walls, adorned with intricate designs and vibrant colors. The centerpiece of the room is a massive oak coffee table, surrounded by plush sofas and armchairs, perfect for weary officials after a hard day's work. This particular break room was reserved for the (mostly) admirable young captains of the West Wing, but two far less admirable freeloaders had found themselves lounging there instead.

Orion was sprawled out on one of the plush couches, his ruby eyes half-lidded as he watched his fellow nuisance Homare make his ninth or tenth dizzying lap around the room. The silent demon seemed to be in a daze, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black jeans and his head tilted up at the ceiling. As nice as it was to not have the younger menace causing a fuss, his atypical dawdling was starting to bother Ori.

“Dude, what're you on? You're looking like a fuckin’ zombie.” Orion snickers aloud, finally pulling Homare from his listless trance. He stops in his tracks and pulls his right hand from his pocket, cupping it to make a simple gesture down his chest: he was hungry.

The ever smug rockstar just waves towards the door, earning a blank stare from his restless friend. "Uh, you know the biggest food court in the kingdom is right out there," he snorts, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "And it's all you can eat, unless you're expecting me to pay for ya'!”

Internally, Homare's thoughts were racing. “This dumbass knows that's not what I mean, right? Or maybe I never told him... no he HAS to know already, it's obvious-” His face scrunches up in frustration as he tries to think of a way to convey his intentions.

"...Well, if money's really that tight, I don't mind covering this time, eheh..." Orion's playful smirk grew more tense as he switched his tone. While Homare was lost in thought, his piercing emerald stare was practically boring through Orion's head. Homare snapped from his trance again, shaking his head and slouching over in exaggerated defeat.

"I-N-C-U-B-U-S," his fingers spelled out, his antsy gaze now aimed at the floor to avoid eye contact. He idly rocks on his heels, almost as if he were embarrassed by his predicament. "I need to feed." He signs feebly, and Ori could hear a quiet, unintelligible grumble from under the man's cloth mask.

"Oooh wait, I get it!" Homare rolls his eyes as the lightbulb goes off above Orion's head.

"Shit, I got a roommate just like you. We help him out all the time- his dumbass always forgets to feed when we're out touring-" The star rambles on, tugging at the collar of his jacket and brushing his hair back to reveal a few telling hickeys around his neck and shoulders.

Homare's pale face goes beet red and he straightens up fast. Why did those marks look so… fresh? Before he could let his mind get carried away for a third time, the exasperated demon tried clear the air as fast as possible. “Not that way!" Now both of hands were out, and more irritable murmurs accompanied his dramatic signing.

Orion tilted his head and stood up from the couch, strolling right over to the blushing man. "Riiiiight... So how do you do it then?" With his hands on his hips, the taller demon's casually flirty look only twisted Homare's thoughts even more.

Homare blinks up at him, appearing starstruck for a moment before his lips curl into a faint smile under his mask. The oddball doesn't give a clear response yet. He quietly snickers to himself, only leaving Orion more curious than before.

"C'mon, spit it out~" Orion lets out a playful whine, nudging the incubus with his elbow. "You're killin' me here, dude!" Much to his annoyance, Homare just crosses his arms and gives a nonchalant shrug, playing more coy than usual.

"Hah, don't lie to me, you bra-HAHT!!" All at once, every last drop of smugness vanished Orion's voice once he felt something soft brush against the shell of his ear. He frantically scans the room, not noticing a faint purple glow from Homare's hands. Two glittering, enchanted purple feathers soon revealed themselves from behind Ori's wild mane before fluttering over his pointed ears.

"B-Broho, the fuck are you doing?!" The startled man sputters, snatching one of the plumes out of the air while clumsily stumbling back to dodge the other. "That... Doesn't work on me!”

"Not ticklish?" Orion didn't expect to shiver just from seeing the word signed out, and that hungry, almost predatory look on Homare's face wasn't doing him any favors either. Nevertheless, he tried to keep cool, hoping he could shake the troublemaker off before he learned too much.

"Neh-Nuh uh, it just, uh... It felt weird!" Foolishly, Orion thought he could laugh it off for the time being, until a gentle push to his chest pressed him back against the wall. That little weirdo really had him cornered… But that aura of yearning in his often unreadable eyes made the rockstar's heart pound in his chest.

"We'll do it your way, then." Homare briefly leaned back just to let Orion see him signing. He then slowly tugged at the other's jacket, but he barely had a chance to feel it before Ori eagerly ripped it off himself. His own hands wrapped around Homare's hips and yanked him closer, erasing the gap between the two.

"Aww! Look at you, tryna be all dominant-" Ori chuckles, his goofy, boyish charm still slipping through his seductive front. Homare only hummed and tilted his head, too close to sign a response. Instead, he did the next best thing.

Slender gloved hands trailed down Ori's arms, only stopping to graze the bare skin of his waist. Even through his hunger, Homare was still one step ahead of his target, distracting him with the unfamiliar, yet extremely welcomed advances all while he worked his other magic more subtly.

Ori's racing heart nearly leapt from his body when his wrists were grasped tight, and it didn't take long for him to spot the familiar purple magic forcing his arms up behind his head. Before he could protest, the taller punk's toned waist was stretched taut, leaving him vulnerable in front of the famished incubus. He knew he was seeing traces of a grin under that dark mask now…

“H-Hold on!" Ori's eyes widened when Homare turned away from him. He ignored the man’s preemptive begging, summoning a small portal to sift through his storage. "I was just jokin', babes! Doesn't matter who tops, I'm not that pick- what the fuck are those-"

When he spun back around, Homare was holding several wooden sticks in one hand, and he waved the portal shut with the other. The tools almost looked like ear picks, but the size and sturdiness of the plumes at the end let him know they weren't meant for an average grooming.

Homare didn't grace him with a spoken or signed answer, deciding to give him a more hands on introduction instead. Holding the other four tools in one hand, he traced the feathery tip of the last one over Orion's bare stomach. If the punk wasn't actually ticklish like he claimed to be, he might've noticed Homare was just signing his own name. Instead, his eyes were squeezed shut, fangs clamping down on his lip to hold his giggles in.

"Shihit-!" Ori pressed against the wall, trying not to squirm too much that would give away his ticklishness after all. The round plumes looked pillowy soft, but held just enough firmness to make him jolt and whimper with every stroke.

Homare, being a jerk as usual, stealthily conjured up a small magic hand by his captive's side: those purple fingers then briefly drilled near Ori's back where it met the wall. The punk nearly screamed in surprise and arched his back, giving Homare the opportunity to press the fluffy tool right into his navel and give it a spin.

"GAHAH-?! Oh fffuhuhck you!" It all happened so fast; Orion couldn't stop the quick bark of laughter that forced its way out. He tried to glare at the bratty incubus, but that stupidly cute, cocky look in his eye made Ori give up instantly- or maybe it was that twirling tool in his navel. "D-Don't look at me like thaHAHAT!!"

As if he hadn't had enough surprises, he felt another plume dancing along his skin. The spare magic hand kept the other three tools nearby, while Homare dragged two of them over Ori's waistline. More strained snickers slipped from the punk's lips, just feeding into Homare's urges even more.

How did these stupid things tickle so bad? Even Homare was surprised by how effective they were. His regular victims usually required a lot more effort to crack, but Orion, as tough as he pretended to be, seemed to crumble at the softest touches. With a longing sigh, Homare slowly started to drag the plumes upwards, drawing more panicked prattling from the bound man.

"Nnonohoho don't you fucking dahahare- Ahaha wahahAIIT!!" The incubus paused surprisigly enough, holding the tools right below Orion's underarms.

He'd noticed Ori reaching a new level of struggling once he got a liiiitle too close to his armpits- definitely a weak spot. As much as he would've loved to keep slowly teasing the punk over and over, gradually breaking him down with those soft, calculated strokes… He'd have to save that for a day when he didn't feel like he was withering away from hunger.

Orion felt a wave of relief wash over him when Homare stepped back, tossing the two sticks in the air, but that feeling was painfully short-lived. The hand holding the remaining tools split into three separate wisps of magic at the dull snap of Homare's fingers, and two similar wisps caught the others that he tossed. Now all five of the fluffy plumes were poised directly over Ori's bare body, just waiting on the cue to strike.

"Ahh..." Homare noticed his captive breaking a sweat, and clasped his hands together. That nervousness was so cute- it always made his meals more flavorful! On the other end, Orion managed to break his focus from the (non)threatening picks hovering around him, putting on a wide, antsy grin. "Homareeee… Are you trying to kill me?"

Homare shook his head at the pretty-boy's whining, which drew the next question from him. "Are... you mad at me?" Yet another nonverbal ‘no’, and the oblivious man took that as a sign to relax. "...So that means you'll let me go now, right?"

The third answer sent a shiver down Orion's spine. Maybe it was his anxiety over getting the living hell tickled out of him, but he could've sworn he heard Homare actually whisper "no" that time. Before he had the chance to throw out another distraction, all five plumes made their move.

The first began at his waist, drawing a large circle around his stomach that grew smaller with each loop, just threatening to dive right back into his navel. Two more flew up to his pointed ears to mimic the annoying feathers from earlier, but this time there was nothing he could do to slap them away.

The last two dove straight into Ori's taut underarms, dragging up and down in an erratic pattern to keep him on his toes. Some strokes were long and slow, dragging up his arms and down to his chest. The others were faster and never strayed too far from his pits.

Poor Orion was beside himself with laughter. He couldn't even try to hold back the shriek that ripped from his lips as soon as the tools touched down.

"NOHOHOHOHOO!! " The sudden ticklish onslaught broke his nerves immediately, and his initial fit of thrashing against his bonds melted into useless tugging and worming around. After just a few more seconds of reckless squirming, the sensitive punk slumped against the wall, tossing his head back and letting his cackling flow free.

"YOHOHOU'RE THE WOHOHOHOOORST!!" he whined at his captor, who was practically drinking up the panicked, helpless laughter. He couldn't hear Homare's amused giggle in response, but he could tell the sadistic brat was too pleased with himself seeing how the tickling just didn't seem to stop.

But Homare's mean streak didn't end there. Orion’s tickle-addled brain didn't process the sound of Homare snapping again, but he definitely felt the plumes moving faster than before.

The one at his stomach stopped circling around, dipping into his navel again and prodding around incessantly. At his underarms, the tools became more focused on drawing the loudest squeals from their pretty ticklish ‘toy’, twirling right over the smooth skin with a bit more pressure than before.

While he wasn't near the point of silent laughter (damned musical breath training), the pitifully sensitive rockstar couldn't get a single word out once the harsher tickling took over. His already uncontrollable giggling went up almost a full octave, and his body went rigid for a split second before slumping back down. He weakly shook his head, trying anything his instincts could work up to keep the fluffy tools away from his ears.

Homare gave it another minute or two, then slowed down the tickling with another soft sigh of delight. Now that he had the chance, Orion took this opportunity to finally spit out his defeat.

"AHA-ALRIGHT!! It tihihickles!!" Homare's ears perked up, and he couldn't help but giggle in awe. He had only sped up the tickling just to satiate his hunger faster, but Ori's whiny concession was an added bonus.

"Huh?" Just to be a dick, the incubus stepped closer and cupped his ear, snapping at Orion to get his attention. Ori's eyes were blurry with tears, but he could still see the eccentric demon taunting him.

"Oh fuck yohohou- WAITWAHAHIT!!" He only had a moment to regret his poor choice of words: it almost looked like Ori would break free with how hard he jerked under Homare’s fingertips. The incubus listlessly poked around his ribs, getting dangerously close to under joining those plumes at his underarms. "IT TICKLES, IT TIIHIHICKLES!!!”

After what felt like hours to the ticklish drama king, Homare pulled both his hands and all of the fluffy tools away, though they still hovered nearby in just case Ori was dumb enough to to spare any more sass.

Though it felt like he'd just started, Homare's energy had flooded back faster than he was used to. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but this quick, strong rejuvenation wasn't entirely foreign to him. He'd once had an encounter with a nymph queen whose mirthful squeals of laughter replenished his power almost too fast- Maybe Ori's own magic was on par with hers?

…No, not a chance. Now that it was on his mind, he could recall similar experiences nearly every time he (begrudgingly) had his precious, eager to please Inori help him feed as well, and he knew her magic was always on the weaker side. He tried to think of anything his best friend had in common with the punk in front of him or a powerful queen, but he just couldn't draw any parallels...

Ori was still pressed against the wall, breathlessly giggling long after the tickling had stopped. Once he blinked away his tears, he could see Homare having a stretch and getting lost in his own mind as usual. The sight of the tools lingering nearby kept him on edge, but he couldn't help but notice a stark change: the magic holding them seemed more vivid in color. "Huh..." Ori huffed softly, his teary eyes shifting from the tools to the seemingly energized troublemaker in front of him.

"What's up? You full already?" He piped up, startling Homare mid-stretch. The incubus furrowed his brows, noticing the familiar shit-eating grin that Orion had the nerve to bear. "Heheh, and here I was thinking you were starving! Can't believe you'd use me as a quick snack."

While Ori was just teasing the other man, he didn't know he was poking a sleeping… No, a freshly energized, very alert bear. Homare stared the punk down, his visible eye now just as vibrant as his magic. He didn't bother to snap this time, cutting out the theatrics in favor of dishing out his favorite punishment.

The bondage around Orion's arms suddenly shifted, and the taller demon dropped to his knees with a startled gasp. He thought his bonds were completely loosened, but the incubus had the rope catch his wrists on the way down, fully stretching his arms above his head. Taking full advantage of his captive's stunned state, Homare dropped down as well, seating himself straight onto Ori's lap.

“Hghn-!? What-???” Orion was already convinced he fit the bill of an ‘inexperienced, flustered idiot’ by now, but the moment he tried to save face one last time, he was immediately countered by Homare slowly tugging down his own mask. It felt like he could never get used to seeing the lower half of the younger demon's pretty face, but what really shook him was the impish, telltale smirk on his lips. Ori shivered, feeling Homare's gloved hands gingerly rubbing up and down his sides. It might've been relaxing if he didn't know what it was leading up to. "D-Damnit! Wait, can't you take a joke?? Ya’ don't really HAVE to keep going-"

"Yes, I do." A lovely, melodic, and oh-so unfamiliar whisper seemed to shatter any of Orion's objections- that, and the feeling of soft lips grazing his cheek afterward. Ori's mind went blank, save for one thought: the incubus known for being an unpredictable, dangerous threat was currently planting the most tender kisses along his jawline.

When it seemed like Homare's lips would finally meet Orion's, that teasing brat only gave him a quick peck instead of what he truly wanted. Homare leaned back and let out an airy laugh, one that Orion would've folded over without a drop of shame if he wasn't so riled up.

Homare didn't give him the chance to whine over it too much. Soon, the hands at Ori's waist dug in, squeezing at his hips without warning. Orion bucked and yelped, almost jerking himself up off the floor, but Homare kept him in his place, kneading that sweet spot with light, hellish precision.

"OH MY GOHOHOD I HATE YOU!!"

“I know…♡ " Homare kept his voice low, leaning in to carry on with the soft kisses, this time right along Ori's ear. The combined merciless squeezing and loving, tickly kissing was maddening. He so desperately wanted to break out of the ropes and give Homare a taste of his own medicine, but a part of him didn't seem to mind the position he was in…

#tickling #tickle fic #my ocs #//orion #//homare #wuughhhjgh i write like english is my 9th language but itll be alright ♡

65 notes · View notes

mootheloon · 10 months

Text

Hozier, 11x17, all colored pencil, time spent: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ a few months?

Story time! A bit lengthy but bear with me. Picture it…Sacramento, 2015… Hozier was just starting to take off…I was excited to snag tickets to see him at a smaller capacity. I drew 2 portraits…one for him to sign for me, one as a gift, both in graphite. I met some lovely people in line and after the show (which was awesome btw) they waited with me at the end of the line hoping he’d come out. When it was my turn I was incredibly nervous…his mom is an actual artist and designed his album cover. I…didn’t really know what I was doing. So I babbled and stumbled over my words saying as much, that I hoped they were ok, that I was no artist, never having taken an art class,etc. He waited patiently for me to finish and then I handed both drawings to him. He looked, eyes widened, and really LOOKED at them. Seemed like forever and I remember it was long enough for me to look over at my linemates. Then he said words that have stayed with me ever since.

“Don’t you ever say you are not an artist because you absolutely are. These are beautiful.”

His tone was serious which further drove the point home. It’s been a few years but I still hear these words. And while it’s taken a while and still feels a little weird, when I show someone my page and they say “Oh you’re an artist!?” I say “Yes, I am.”

Thank you, Hozier❤️

#hozier #fan art #colored pencil #portrait #wasteland baby #unreal unearth #drawing #art

255 notes · View notes

androids-insides · 10 months

Text

Another thing I’d like to explain! What can I say, I like explaining things ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Todays explanation is on my theories (I guess?) on, you guessed it:

The Stanley Parable!

(I like other things, I swear! I’m just very irrationally afraid that everyone who follows me won’t like the other things, so I usually don’t post about it :,] )

A summary, so I don’t lose your attention, is that I like to think that most theories are correct! Now, allow me to explain! (Yes there will be pictures)

Put in different terms, all endings are “cannon,” in what they imply. For example,

This is a helpful and much needed picture of Stanley and The Narrator.

From here, the story could go anywhere! From following directions, to jumping out a window, anything and everything is on the metaphorical table.

This is the Confusion Ending. Here, The Narrator had a story and a point to it all, but has lost his control to a yellow line^tm and self-contradicting revelations.

One of the few examples where The Narrator has no control. The story, the parable and the outcomes are all at someone, or something, else’s command. This is currently cannon.

This, however, is the Countdown Ending. Here, everything had gone exactly to plan, aside from Stanley’s last decision. The Narrator, seemingly on a whim, rewrites the ending in a moment, and has the omnipotence to detonate the entire facility.

At this point, The Narrator is in control of everything. Nothing stands in his way from destroying both Stanley and the story’s outcome. There is no question of who or what has altered the story, as it is most certainly The Narrator himself. This is currently cannon.

If that understands it, then let it be. In some endings, The Narrator is the only one who controls the story, in others, control is left to someone/thing else. In some Stanley has a wife and a kid, and in others he’s just a boring no-body (or, no legs at least). In some The Narrator works the boring office job and created Stanley to entertain himself, in others Stanley miraculously became part of a dark and twisted game that both gave his life meaning and took it away.

On a cosmic scale of “what is the parable and where did it come from,” I honestly think there is no real answer. It’s lazy, I know, but hear me out:

Think of it as Past, Present, Future. We, as spectators or consumers, know very clearly where the story currently is. As well as that, we know several of the ways that it ends. We know it started at some point, is currently existing, and will stop existing after that loading screen, right?

Each ending answers the burning question of “what about before this?” However because of the inconsistent variation, there can’t really be a solid answer. We arrived at the middle of the story, where Stanley works in a big office building and decides to try and figure out where his coworkers went. We don’t know how long Stanley and The Narrator have been in this loop, as it is, you can play The Stanley Parable as many times over as you want. Therefore, the beginning can really only be where we know the story picks up, which is at a time where there is no definitive answer of What came first, The Narrator or The Stanley. A question that no one can truly answer.

It’s sort of like the concept of Gender Fluidity, in a way. Where however the person feels that day is their decided gender, is as to however The Parable ends is how it begins. In conclusion, The Stanley Parable plot is a close second Gender Fluid icon, right behind Nimona.

Joking put briefly aside, I think The Parable is just a huge concept. Did/can/could Stanley talk at some point? Maybe. Isn’t The Narrator supposed to be the “physical” representation of divorce? Probably. Is The Narrator a figment of Stanley’s imagination, or the other way around? Who knows. All I can guarantee, is that the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never

#I forgot to add tags somehow???#the stanley parable #the stanley parable art #the stanley parable fanart #tsp art #tsp fanart #tsp fandom #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #tspud #iknowitsagooddaywhenConnorEatsTrousersthreatenstoeatmyart #whatdoyourhinkittasteslike?

196 notes · View notes

littledigits · 5 months

Text

thoughts on the cut episodes and ppls reactions 'n stuff

Since it was confirmed that a few more episodes of Hilda were written but cut, I do think the reaction of people finding this out is really interesting and not just because its fairly common in the industry and isint a sign of anything bad necessarily. I mean heck, in a weird way being behind the scenes and then seeing how people interpret things, what they take as important, what they think is a thread…all of that is interesting. When your job is basically trying to get people to pick up what you're putting down storywise its kind of a neat topic, because everyone communicates in their own way.

BTW before I keep going this is not a post to say dont crit/vent/complain/whatever about whatever the heck you want in hilda or any media, you do you. I think peoples honest takes are fascinating (said in victoria van gale voice) and even just people speaking their mind shows that they are interested and they care so that matters. Also not one singular post triggered this, its just been on my mind as I surface level read things so no stressies.

When It comes to the cut episodes, I'm seeing some people assume that whatever was cut would have fixed some of the crits they may have had about the season..and who knows, maybe yes? But I'd say ultimately probably not. Not because they dont include things that people want to see, or may have some topics people want expanded on ..but because thats just impossible in the grand scheme of things.

I mean this applies to shows in general, not just hilda. Every person who watches a show has their own idea of what the show represents to them. For some of its more of the surface events or characters where as others connect it with a deeper emotion. A lot of people respond to different tones of the episodes, which there are many. Some people prefer the one off adventures that stand alone as their own stories and others want to see more of a stronger through line. Some may see a new character and expect a new arc and thread, while others wonder why we couldn't've used a previously introduced character. Some may read between the lines more and others may take what is presented as very straight forward and literal …and no one is WRONG, because our big wrinkly brain meats all have their own tastes and ways of imputing information.

Television animation is rife with factors that actually futz with the quality and ability of the team to make a beautiful, amazing product like EVERY DAY. The script process and what goes into production is just one. The team is made up of many creatives all with their own varied experiences and voices just like the audience. In order for people to have their own voices and say, you are going to end up with some things that hit better then others, especially if the team is allowed to grow and experiment and play a little. Hilda has always been a show where we've been able to have a lot of creative say, and i think that sincerity comes through ! but with the sincerity and that humanity, it also means that there are going to be things that arnt going to make sense in the grand scheme of things lol. Even the writers and creators and producers have differing opinions on what to explore and dive into, probably more so then fandoms haha. Having more episodes may scratch some itches but not all, HECK, those episodes being cut could have re-allocated resources to other areas that helped elevate your fav ep of the season ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ who knows! Schrodinger's episodes! (also ngl I was having cold sweats over the scope of some of them as cool as they were. The season may have been shorter but it was intense..it takes a long time to do stuff that looks that clean and crisp)

Imperfect art is very human! Do the best you can at the time with the factors you have. I was given so much trust and freedom on my episodes, and I was just happy to do something fun that allowed me and my team to grow and learn. I was fucking STOKED to get a one off story because it was way less pressure for me to take my next step directing cuz just doing the thing is a feat. Any sincerity you feel cant come through if that means we're afraid that we cant make mistakes, or do a story choice ppl wont vibe with. All you can do is do the best you can, see if people are picking up what you're putting down, and grow from it for next time.

Anyway, just a thought ramble. Its not to say do or dont do this or think this way blah blah. I just love that storytelling is messy and complex and everyones gonna take it a lil differently, especially if you have a team where you allow lots of voices to have input. It is all just a big experiment to see if people leave with a particular experience by putting your resources into the things you have that matter, and try you best to distract from burnt edges or patched up holes that happened throughout the process of making the dang thing lol.

#me as marge simpson holding up a potato of communication #I just think they're NEAT #it is cool to see who vibes with what episodes and why #lil rambley bits #I personally strive for a good 7/10 #maybe a 7.5 if im feeling spicy #everything else is luck

66 notes · View notes

senblades · 2 months

Note

Tell us about the planning doc!!!

thank you very much for indulging me HAHA

So I started writing the planning doc like. When I really shouldn't have LMAO- I wasn't busy right then, but I was absolutely about to be. Oh well! What's done is done.

The planning doc is, essentially, a full outline of all the plot of fftsr, told exclusively in dumb jokes and memes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Or, well, more accurately, a dumping ground for all my ideas in chronological order, marked with dates and some (emphasis on SOME lmao) of the confidant rank ups for Akechi and Ren.

I'll share some of the outline already written in chapters to get my point across: (UH MAJOR AND MINOR SPOILORS FOR FAITH FOR THE SECOND RUN- earlier chapters, mostly)

As you can see, not everything from the doc makes the cut. Sometimes things just don't work anymore, or I can't quite find a place to shoehorn it. I'm pretty sure a line showing how Sumire was struggling without a team never made it into the chapter- or, if it did, it was so negligible that it doesn't even matter.

Plus, I definitely hadn't figured out all the scene-by-scene POV's by that point. The "April 18" bullet point implies that scene might have taken place from Sumire's POV, but the final chapter actually has it as Ren's.

I also put all my Metaverse powerpoint slide intermittently as they become relavent. I'm not actually sure if this explanation ever made it into a chapter... I think Akechi might have implied it? But I don't think it was ever spelled out, since I couldn't find a smooth way to do it. Oh well! Here it is now!

There's also outlines of character conversations and motivations, as expected. The level of detail within the planning doc is VERY uh. Well, it's dependant on a lot of things. There are some major beats that I just hadn't thought of until writing the actual chapters, but some of the character-related convos that are more centred to the plot got written down pre-writing chapter 1

From memory, I think the above scene also changed slightly in the final fic. Sometimes what I write as character motivations in the planning doc ends up being VERY DIFFERENT by the time I get to the actual chapter. And, sometimes, the characters just run away with a scene HAHA

Speaking of character convos, some of my jokes in the planning doc made it, almost word for word, into the fic's chapters. Akechi hysterically wondering if Rank 3 is the "deepest darkest secrets" Rank Up is something that I wanted to immortalise lmao

As you can also see, though, not all of the confidant rank-ups were planned- Magician rank 2 is implied, but I didn't actually know what it was going to be at the time.

And then there's the confidants I didn't have planned at ALL:

(UH SPOILERS UP UNTIL CHAPTER 46)

The Tower and the Aeon are the worst offenders of this: I retroactivaly added the Aeon into the planning doc- an easy feat, since it coincides with the Justice, but just know that it absolutely wasn't there originally lmao. The Aeon came about in two stages, if I'm remembering correctly- I wrote the dream sequence where Ren didn't remember shit, but some vision of Crow was there and did remember, pretty much on a whim, and then thought "okay what if that kept happening though"

I think that descision was one of the best things I could have done lmao- it made October third MUCH more exciting to write (and, I assume, to read)... (originally Metatron was not a factor in the boys remembering- just some annoying headaches and visions. Shadow Maruki was also a last-second addition! While Ren was off galivanting with Crow, I wanted to give Goro something interesting to do as well. So! Impromptu therapy session)

Now the Tower... I did have some. uh. Plans, for cognitive Akechi right from the start; I can't remember my exact thought process for when I started cooking for this confidant, but I think I saw a comment on Throw Away Your Mask explaining why the Tower was particularly apt for the character it's used for in that fic, and thought "wait I can cook with this". or something HAHA I can't quite remember. (I was also VERY MUCH inspired by Marigolds and A Tale of Two Tricksters for all of that... (love those fics you should read them if you haven't))

All of the PT's rank ups are missing from the planning doc, too. I knew I wanted to have all of them as confidants, but I had no idea what their arcana was going to be, or when those confidants would start or rank up.

I unfortuantly can't share some of my best jokes from the planning doc, since I'm joking about MAJOR SPOILERS from future chapters HA

ty very much for letting me gush lmao <3 <3 <3

#ask #fftsr #I was a little afraid someone would ask me this question and I'd forget every thought I've ever had about my fic #but word vomit has been achieved!

33 notes · View notes

ciearcab · 2 months

Note

I've been curious for a while now how you draw poses. How do you use references? Everything you make looks so natural but still lively it's so gorgeous

ghghfghn thankyou! i definitely feel like the worst person to ask for advice on this from, but i'll try and explain some of my thought process when working with character-focused art (and posing them!)

(rambling below the cut)

i think that understanding human form in general is probably the best way to feel confident in posing even if that sounds like what everyone says. when you feel familiar with the shapes of a body it's far easier to understand the rules in which they will move/interact with, and then composition in general tends to come a little easier.

When i start a pose (or just. character art in general) i like to try and work with the most bare-bones type sketch possible. I dont visualize things in my head very clearly, so when i do try and copy a reference or detailed sketch 1 to 1, it usually ends up incredibly stiff and boring because i get stuck following all the details. the way i break down shapes is a little off as well, i think in very angular and long lines, so i like to use the chest, knees, and shoulders as my "anchor points" for my figures - they're what i personally consider the most prominent points to focus on visually and i usually will build my pose around their placements. i think it’s good to come up with something like this to help ground your pose early on.

when i draw multiple characters interacting or in the same scene, i like to try and think of poses that feel in-character or natural to them. these two in my recent piece started out kinda cutesy but they argue a lot, so you can see the change as i readjusted the posing to make it feel more aggressive as i went along.

redoing a portion of a character midway through for whatever reason is pretty standard in my process, so i dont stress if i cant quite figure out a limb or perspective at first (this is when i will look for reference if i dont have one or take my own photos).

I dont really enjoy drawing characters just standing around, so doing something that feels more like a "scene" or moment of interaction like this (being scolded at for an injury, chatting, reading a book, catching a falling object, etc etc) is a nice way to try and come up with something at least a little more compelling to draw, and a way to work some body language into the poses too. legs and arms can make great space-fillers while still adding to the mood!

i dont really know how to wrap this up but as a general rule of thumb i try to think of poses that will fill the space of the canvas/image im drawing on, just like any other composition, while still considering the feeling or moment i want to convey. if i’m unhappy with the final full piece, i usually will just crop for a closer image (posting on other platforms usually makes me do this anyways, so i consider it part of the process at this point ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

#ciear answers

35 notes · View notes

roodllle · 9 months

Text

Baldur's Gate 3 Act 3 spoilers under the cut

I have not seen anyone talk about these notes you find about Gortash so I'm going to post them!

So if you go to the Flymm store you'll meet Enver's parents and you can learn by using the tadpole that they sold him to a warlock. But it seems that as he got older he went into the smuggling business and was already showing how controlling he will become. Looks like someone tried to warn other smugglers, but clearly that failed horribly.

You find this note under Franc Peartree's house and I'm going to read way too deeply in this note lol

"Weapon distribution continues like a parent saving their drowning child: swimmingly"

Ugh ok when I read this I thought 'does he just think constantly about how his parents threw him to the wolves. is it a subconscious thing??' I wouldn't be surprised if he was the type to think that he wound up better off without his parents and that he may have actually choose this life anyway. But in the back of his head he may also wonder what life would've been like if he had loving parents ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ who knows

Then one of my fav lines:

"You are a treasure, and I should like to hold you in my arms and whisk you about! How you would laugh, Franc! Of course, people would say we're in love. And I do. I do love you, Franc. I love any man willing to birth a little more slithering, wet malice into the world. By sending out my weapons, putting them in groping, willing fingers, you've done just that."

Ok there are 3 things that came to my mind.

1. Queer Gortash? Is he being facetious?

2. Maybe Gortash is being chummy and him and Franc have known each other for awhile?

3. This is what really made me think though was that Gortash for all his tyranny has never been the type to revel in malice. Like ye he knows he's a tyrant but he wants slaves, he doesn't want more bloodshed in the streets nor does he usually talk so......poetically.

You know who does though? Orin. Especially since Franc ends up being a part of one of her assassinations. Get the guy to make more weapons then silence him?

Maybe? Maybe I've pegged Enver all wrong but who knows. I'm probably going to go back to Franc's house to see if my hypothesis is right.

And this last note I have has been my absolute fav that you can find when freeing Florrick. It's in one of the jail cells with a skeleton.

It was a very nice to initially refer to Enver as, Enver Flymm.

I don't know who Vance Farnol is but he seemed to know a crap ton about Gortash.

Farnol doesn't seem to know that at one point Enver was sold into warlock/demon slavery so maybe his POV is that he saw Enver as an urchin boy with his shitty parents.

Doesn't see him for awhile. Then sees him as a smuggler in the streets.

Enver joins a gang and that's when he changes his last name. Was it recommend as being a new member of the gang? Did people automatically think of the shoe shop when hearing Flymm? Was it more for Enver to distance himself from them?

He eventually becomes the Kingpin and seems to call himself an independent entrepreneur

Rivals? All my rivals are dead. I have not gotten to Gortash's boss fight yet but no one has to tell me this man can't actually fight. Is he probably good with a dagger and a fist fight? Possibly, but it's more likely he's good at weaseling out of situations and getting other people to do the dirty work.

Zhent's Days is Past, I missed that part in Act 1 where there's a sidequest to help those guys? So maybe I missed something in their hideout which would give their POV to this situation.

Then it seems he strikes a contract/deal with the god Bane and then strikes an Oath with Orin

"Not Even Everything is Enough" Someone never told Gortash that acquiring the world is never going to fill that empty black hole of a heart he has

And then we have him working with Kethric, getting the Gondians to serve him and then his most hammy line

Call me LORD Gortash

I love how there's so much depth to this character, makes me sad there aren't actually a lot more scenes with him. I know romancing him would be almost impossible but just having more scenes would be wonderful.

Anyways thanks for reading and share your thoughts!!

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #enver gortash #long post #roodle speaks #roodle talks bg3

75 notes · View notes

queenimmadolla · 2 years

Text

𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗘𝗡𝗜𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗔’s Masterlist

─────────about me. . .hi, i’m Vivi. I’m black/mixed. Just gonna throw that out there immediately because I don’t want to get blocked for interacting with black!reader content. That being said, my reader is black; however, I try to keep descriptions to a minimum unless I’m describing a fit. I’m in my 20s, asexual, and hyper-fixate a lot. also, my REQUESTS are CLOSED! i’ll be opening them as soon as i catch up, HOWEVER, should you submit a good headcanon or a little good lil thought, i just might have to write about it :) will not write for Hopper, Billy, or the kids (for romance). Oh, and Eden is almost always going to be in reader's best friend trio. I'm too lazy to think of anyone other than my oc and also Eden is so fucking cool and I'm gonna have all the characters in the same town including the Byers fam and Argyle. I'm not tryna map that out, lol. Note about interacting with me, do not come at me with hate of any kind and/or hold me up to high standards because I will always never be the bigger person. I don’t care, lol. I will say something so out of pocket you’ll end up deleting the app even if you sent it as an anon. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ─────────

note: most of my works are over 2k word count wise; however, I am unable to utilize the ‘keep reading’ option because tumblr—for some bizarre reason— will remove paragraphs and repeat lines/paragraphs on anything under the ‘keep reading’ line, so sorry that you’ll have to scroll past them all when going through my tumblr, really wish I could use it.

𝑴 𝑨 𝑺 𝑻 𝑬 𝑹 𝑳 𝑰 𝑺 𝑻 ! 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘁. 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . . 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗨𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗦𝗢𝗢𝗡:

EDDIE MUNSON:

𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑬 (𝑪𝒀𝑴) . . . you are content watching Eddie Munson from afar, ignoring the giant “what-if” that looms over you. It’s safer that way. But after a shitty party, some weed, and a lot of heart ache, it becomes clear you two share more than a class. If only the rest of the world didn’t just think you were two stupid kids with their hearts on fire for each other. (series ─ ongoing) 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 **Tag list for this fic and its updates can be found here. 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑰'𝑽𝑬 𝑩𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝑴𝑬𝑨𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑶 𝑺𝑨𝒀 . . . tired of waiting around for something that’s never gonna happen, you head to the last rager of your high school career to get back together with your ex-boyfriend before graduation. Eddie heads to that very same party to stop you. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader, series ─ ongoing) 𝑺𝑯𝑬'𝑺 𝑯𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑨 𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀 . . . After taking a pregnancy test for funsies, you find out that you're actually pregnant. The scariest part isn't even the unexpected pregnancy, it's telling Eddie. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse) request. 𝑷𝑬𝑵𝑵𝒀 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑺. . . in which you can't nap because your daughter likes to poke your eye out and Eddie likes to sit back and observe. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, (Penny Verse, the verse that comes directly after CYM events - Can be read as a standalone.) 𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑲. . . Eddie helps you out when you're struggling to feed your baby. It quickly leads to fucking. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse) ─ smut. 𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑲 𝑾𝑯𝑶'𝑺 𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 . . . in which Eddie takes his three year old shopping. Obviously, cuteness ensues. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse) 𝑪𝑶𝑶𝑲𝑰𝑬𝑺 '𝑵 𝑪𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑵 . . . if anyone had told you you’d be having this type of conversation with a four year old while making cookies, you definitely wouldn’t have believed them. and eddie still can’t say no to your daughter. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse) 𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀'𝑺 𝑮𝑶𝑻 𝑩𝑰𝑻𝑬 . . . just a couple of hours after dropping your four year old off for her first day of preschool, you and Eddie are called back to pick her up. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse)

𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑬 𝑴𝑬𝑵 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑨 𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀 . . . you leave eddie to watch your newborn with some ‘help’ (they don’t really do anything) from jonathan and argyle. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse) 𝑪𝑨𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝑷𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑺 𝑫𝑶𝑾𝑵 . . . Eddie catches you pantsing your 7 month old baby. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse)

𝑺𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒂 . . . Jonathan's taking your family photos and struggling to get your baby to smile. ─ (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse) prompt.

𝑴𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 . . . you decide it’s high time Eddie finally meets your parents. Your boyfriend isn’t so sure. prompt.

𝑶𝑼𝑻 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑶𝑼𝑪𝑯 𝑰𝑵 𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑴𝑶𝑵𝒀 . . . in which Eddie and his arch-nemesis smoke a couple of joints and talk about how much they (don't) hate each other. (𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝) 𝑺𝑨𝑽𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 . . . in which your nightmares are no match for your boyfriend. request. 𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑰𝑬𝑪𝑬𝑺 (angst. series ─ ongoing) request.

𝑪𝑹𝑼𝑬𝑳 𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑹 - '𝟖𝟓 . . . the year Eddie Munson doesn’t give a fuck about not having graduated when he’s gotta save the girl so he can get the girl. (in which Eddie is in ST3 and reader is basically Heather Holloway, Eddie Munson x Flayed!Reader) 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 **ongoing** 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑶𝑭 𝑮𝑳𝑨𝑺𝑺 . . . eddie finds you relieving some stress in the middle of the woods. request. 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑲𝑬 . . . 𝑫𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑴𝒀𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑭 . . .

𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑲 𝑶𝑼𝑻 ! . . .

𝑼𝑷𝑻𝑶𝑾𝑵 𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 . . .

STEVE HARRINGTON

𝑇𝐸𝑀𝑃𝑇𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 ─ smut.

ROBIN BUCKLEY

𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑵 . . .

JONATHAN BYERS

ARGYLE

#eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #stranger things #eddie munson #joe quinn #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #stranger things fics #masterlist #pennyverse

1K notes · View notes

uhgood-girl · 7 months

Text

i haven't had a chance to fully form this thought yet so bear with me while i explore my own brain but my immediate response to this is i think two things can be true at the same time.

this is me playing devil's advocate with both you and myself, tbh. if you do not enjoy borderline pedantic over thinking, i recommend you turn back now.

i watched the entirety of standing next to you with my jaw on the floor. beyond seeing jk in what i would consider to be the epitome of his element, the arrival of all that experience and hard work and raw talent finely honed, culminating in the absolute pop perfection that is both that song and performance... well, i've made a joke on here before about my brains inability at this stage to not insert jikook into things. i could maybe help it if i wanted to (i can stop at anytime, says the alcoholic 🥴) but i don't want to because i'm having fun and i've made friends with the brain worms. they're my brain worms, who are you take them from me.

i have also mentioned jikook being it's own form of pattern recognition drug for mine, obviously, and probably other's more neuro-spicy tendencies. once you have seen and unlocked the code, it's really hard to turn the goggles off.

so let's talk about patterns. what is a pattern? a pattern is lmao no, i'm kidding, i don't think i need to define this for you but i guess when i say pattern here i'm referring to what a lot of people often call coincidences. (have i lost you already bc of this word? i know people throw it around often here, but again, bear with me) coincidences can become patterns if they repeat enough. how many coincidences does it take to form a pattern? three, i believe, is the universally accepted number but that feels so small when i type it out, much less think about it, tbh. but i suppose in the discourse of coincidences, something that reoccurs without apparent connection, (traveling strangers who keep ending up in the same cities together, you and your friend always texting each other at the exact same time, two people in a band who keep mysteriously referencing things that connect them in a particular sort of light) bc of the unlikelieness of their serendipitous nature, it makes more sense. and because i want to discuss this in a more tangible form and i believe humans to be meddling by nature, i think coincidences become patterns, beyond the number three, when intent enters the equation.

was that a very long way to say that despite the fact that jk didn't write any of the lyrics himself and is quoted in the article above as telling people to not take things too literally that i'm still going to intuit some autobiographical meaning from them? well, yes. i guess so. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

because ✨context✨(glass closet and comp het in particular). a context that i fully admit i am abscribing to the situation myself but if you're reading this i assume you're already in this boat with me, it's your context too, at least tangentially (GUILTY, your honor) by association. the entirety of any jikook argument has to exist in this space and to have gotten here at all required taking some liberties, a certain reading between the lines that is a tightrope of wanting to respect what someone says outloud and at face value while being aware few things are ever black and white (minus the infamous couple in question bah bum tiss 🥁).

if it feels different to you bc it's something he explicity expressed, that's totally fair. i've been back and forth about it a few times myself and maybe i'll feel differently tomorrow. but rn, this is where i'm at and this is all just spitballing at the end of the day, no?

in an attempt to not be accused of only picking and choosing the lyrics that suit my (gay) agenda, it feels worth pointing out that the lines i find applicable to jikook are not literal. as in while i fully believe jk could probably do anything he set his big, beautiful heart out to do, leaving someone's body golden like the sun and moon is unlikely. ( the jikook relevance is in it's choice, why that particular metaphor) and despite being more in the realm of possibility, i don't really believe he's fucking seven days a week either. his agreeance to the use of female pronouns in some songs and even the women in his music videos are a. the comp het standard for this worldwide pop boy takeover (inarguably) and b. don't automatically negate any potential underlying queerness of the artist himself. so when he sings she (is there even anything in the lyrics beyond the pronoun itself that could only refer to a cis woman? hell, does "she" only have to refer to a cis woman in this day and age? jimin is v in touch with his anima these days, don't kink shame :P) I'm taking that as an artistic liberty the same way I'm taking something like it's deeper than the rain. and the latter rain line only stands out to me because, again, broader context.

he didn't write any of the song lyrics but he was there for every step of the production and still approved what actually made it on to the album. he didn't write there for you, the song in gcf tokyo either but i dare you to go find a jikook argument about that video that doesn't list that song and its lyrics as evidence. he didn't write them but it's definitely something he cares about and is very aware of. i doubt anything was chosen without some degree of thought. which brings us full circle back to coincidences vs patterns and intent.

do i think the lyrics a lot of us collectively recognized as jikook coded, even if you respectfully don't want to read that far into it, were a coincidence this late in the game? ain't no way lmao. our jikook roads are paved with these sort of "coincidences." you think they weren't apart of the appeal? helped boost it right to main track status? maybe if it had just been the lyrics, without any of the imagery in the video (i would love to know how much creative direction he had here too, i hope we find out) to back it up, but between that not straight red line of fate, the black swan like wings, the dancing in front of the sun painting, the two households, both alike in dignity, in fair verona where we lay our scene aka the forbidden love vibes, etc. - it's too much for this sad little hyper-fixated romantic queer, personally lol.

so, i think two things can be true at the same time! i'm sure a lot of the songs and their implications have no autobiographical meaning to them beyond a universally relatable conversation and narrative about love, i do believe him. i think based on all the responses and feedback his first releases got, making a statement such as the one in the article was a good? pr move if nothing else too and definitely in line with what we have come to expect around an industry that bts is both sort of moving away from but still restricted by at this stage. if you've read any of my other ramblings so far on this site, you'll know i operate from a place of the more smoke screen around all this (this being a potential romantic relationship between jikook) the better, bc at the end of the day i want all of bts more than anything safe, happy, and free to pursue whatever creative fancy they can dream. them building a level of plausible deniability into this sort of stuff protects them. i will remain a broken record on that point.

but bc of the larger context of jikook as a whole and my belief that jk is both clever and also a romantic at heart, i'm going to take these crumbs and go. 🚗💨 i'm not in any sort of who can be the more superior, rational delulu competition, we're all in our own little clown cars no matter your chosen dressings until proven otherwise. that's the nature of this whole shebang, bby. 🤠👉👉

def feel free to come respectfully argue with me though, i'm never here to convince anyone but i enjoy these conversations and i love other people's perspective. are you ignoring the standing next to you jikook bait?

#jikook #kookmin #she's back at it again folks #got a taste of being loud and now doesn't know how to shut up #in this essay i

42 notes · View notes

shmaptainwrites · 5 months

Text

Pay It Forward [Richard Castle]

Pairings: Richard Castle x GN!Reader

Characters: Richard Castle, (mentions of) Kevin Ryan, Javier Esposito, Kate Beckett, Martha Rodgers, Alexis Castle

Summary: Reader jumps in between Castle and a suspect before a fight and ends up spending the night confronting her feelings for the bestselling author

Warnings: descriptions of injury (non-graphic), insecurity, hospital mention

Note: And yet another Castle fic, again honestly most of this was written a few consecutive late nights in a row so I don't really know if the progression makes much sense, but I like it so who cares ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ this has been in my drafts for months wtf is wrong w me

Getting hurt in the line of duty was something in the back of the mind of every law enforcement officer. Even author Richard Castle suspected there would be an occasion or two where he’d bite the bullet (figuratively and literally).

What he didn’t expect however was when following a lead an officer would jump between him and a suspect right before an altercation began.

To be honest, you didn’t expect to do it either, but there was something about reflexes that you just didn’t have any control over.

Castle tried to get in and give you a hand, but you yelled at him to stay back even though you knew you were in over your head. Your body was hopped up on so much adrenaline that it took you a moment to register when you were down.

It wasn’t the worst you had been hurt, but you knew each of the small injuries added to one another would mean you’d be benched for the foreseeable future.

“Shit!” you cursed as the suspect managed to get away. “Castle, call Ryan and Esposito I’m in no shape to go after this guy, make sure-ow,” you gripped onto your side as you sat up. “Make sure they have uniforms canvassing all the spots he might have gone to.”

Castle nodded and quickly made the call for you before hanging up and putting his phone back in his pocket.

“Hey, you don’t look too good,” he bent down next to you, noticing your split lip and a few other cuts you had around your face. Not to mention what looked like it could be a sprained ankle and a few bruised ribs.

“Been through worse, Castle,” you tried to push yourself up without much success.

“I should take you to a hospital.”

“No hospital,” you shook your head adamantly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Like hell you will be,” he placed a hand around your back and helped you up, confirming his suspicions of a sprained ankle when you winced at the pressure you placed on your right foot. “If you won’t let me take you to a hospital, at least let me patch you up. I must have some things lying around at home we can make use of.”

“Castle-,”

“Don’t even try arguing with me on this,” he gave you a stern look. “I signed my papers, you didn’t have to jump in like that.”

You sighed, “I know, it just sort of happened.”

“It’s okay,” he assured you. “Just let me pay it forward.”

You nodded your head and Castle supported you as you limped to the car.

During the ride to Castle’s place, Ryan and Esposito called to inform you that just as you had suspected your perp had gone to one of his usual hideouts and had been intercepted by uniformed officers. Not without a fight, of course.

“Glad that’s over,�� you let out a breath and massaged your wrist. You had used it to break your fall when he had knocked you down, but you figured it was nothing that some ice and a tensor bandage couldn’t fix.

Castle agreed with you as he pulled into the parking of his building and got out to give you a hand. You knew it was better not to fight him right now so you let him. You sent out a silent thank you to whoever invented elevators knowing your trip up would have been much more uncomfortable without it.

As you entered Castle’s apartment, you noticed it was quieter than usual. You sat down on the couch and looked around,

“Where’s Alexis?”

“She’s staying at a friend’s house tonight,” Castle said while bringing the first aid kit and two ice packs to the couch.

You stayed quiet as Castle examined the cut on your forehead, his fingers carefully brushing the skin next to it.

He then grabbed an alcohol wipe and gave you the time old warning about it stinging. You scrunched your nose as the wipe made contact with the wound, but as soon as it started it was over and he placed two steri-strip bandages to keep the wound closed.

“You seem like you’ve had a bit of practice with this,” you said.

“Nope,” he shook his head. “First time.”

You chuckled a little to yourself, “Happy I could be your first something, Castle.”

That made him break his concerned face with a small smile before turning his attention to your wrist that was already on ice.

Similar to your own thinking he used a tensor bandage to wrap it,

“Are you gonna tell me why you didn’t want to go to a hospital?” he asked.

You shrugged, “I’ve been ignored in one enough times to know when I can try my luck outside.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said while wrapping up your wrist. “I think by this time you know my door is open if you ever need anything.”

“Yeah, I do,” you smiled. “Thanks, Castle, really.”

He lifted your hand up to examine his work with a smile at a job well done before pressing a small gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

“So it can get better, of course,” he winked and you shook your head with a light laugh at his antics. “Your ribs,” he pointed to your chest. “He hit you pretty hard there, do you mind if I take a look?”

“Castle, I thought you were a writer not an MD,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Okay, you’re right I’m not a doctor, but I’ve hurt myself before. Many, many times. At least maybe I can tell you if it’s worth seeing someone about it. Hey, I mean Lanie went to med school you could probably just go to her if you need to.”

“And deal with Perlmutter if she’s not in? That’s my nightmare,” you shuddered.

“Come on, just give me a look. I promise no funny business,” he assured you and crossed his heart.

You sighed deeply and winced a little, only prompting Castle to send you a pointed look which you acknowledged.

“Fine, but not a word of this to Beckett, Esposito, or Ryan. They’ll chew my ear off if they hear I took my shirt off in front of you.”

“Mum’s the word,” he nodded and with Castle’s help you slipped your shirt off. When you finally caught a glimpse of Castle he wasn’t even looking at your ribs, but instead right at you.

“Castle, come on you said no funny business,” you whined.

“No, no,” he shook his head. “I wasn’t-,”

“Then what were you thinking about?” you raised your brows.

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “Not important.”

He then turned his attention to your newly formed bruise and tilted his head a little, curiously examining it.

“I think you should get this one looked at. Doesn’t have to be tonight, but that’s a nasty hit if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Whatever you say Dr. Castle,” you sighed and laid back on the couch.

You looked straight ahead for a while before turning back to look at him, only to see he was staring at you again.

“Castle, you’re really bad at pretending not to stare,” you chuckled humourlessly. “Honestly, right now I don’t think I could care less.”

“You make it kind of hard not to stare,” he retorted.

“Oh yeah, how so?”

“I just can’t seem to wrap my head around how someone who just got their ass kicked can still look so beautiful.”

You snorted, “Really, you’re a writer, Castle. I expected more from you.”

“I’m not lying,” he handed you your shirt back. “Shirt on or off, ass kicked or not.”

“Tell me why I don’t believe you then?” you took a moment to slip your shirt back on with a little bit of difficulty, but you managed it nonetheless.

“Maybe I haven’t given you much reason to,” he shrugged. “Can’t blame you there. Or maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“You can’t see it yourself.”

“Can’t see it-Castle, what are you talking about?” you frowned.

“I’ve been working with you guys for over two years, it’s kind of my job to notice things,” he started.

“And what did you notice about me?” you ventured asking.

“You have the capacity to do your job and excel at it like no one I’ve ever seen,” he said. “But not once do you believe maybe your hunch is right. It’s always, no, let's do Beckett’s idea that seems better, you even indulge me more than you indulge yourself.”

You chewed on the inside of your lip, he wasn’t wrong.

“I just hope that mentality doesn’t find its way into the rest of your life too.”

You nodded your head, lips pressed tightly together, what he had said struck a chord with you. Resonated deep inside your heart where you knew he was right.

“And why do you care so much about me, Castle?” you dared to ask him. “Why did I jump in front of you to just get my ass kicked by our suspect? Do you have an answer to that too?”

“I might, but I don’t think you’re gonna like it,” he chuckled lightly.

“Maybe we should save it for another time then,” you whispered. “I think I um…I need to get back home.”

You pushed yourself up off the couch, but Castle blocked you before you could leave.

“Just stay here,” he said. “It’s late, you’re hurt. I-I don’t wanna leave you alone.”

“Castle, I know your mom’s living with you again. I don’t wanna impose-,”

“It’s not,” he shook his head and put his hands on your arms. “I swear it. You take my bed, I’ll sleep in Alexis’ room tonight.”

You had almost already had one foot out the door, you were so ready to get the hell out of there, run away from your feelings, but before your mind could catch up your hearts words made it to your mouth and you said,

“Okay…I’ll stay.”

Castle smiled and nodded his head a few times, like he was taking in the fact that you had just agreed with him, to be honest, so were you.

“Just give me a sec, I’ll grab you some stuff to take up with you,” he said before walking off to the linen closet to grab you a towel, a pillow, and an extra blanket. He came around to the stairs and motioned for you to follow him which you did

The door at the end of the hallway upstairs was the one that he led you to, pushing it open and allowing you to enter the room while he placed the things he had grabbed for you on the bed.

“Um washroom is over there,” he pointed, “Alexis’s room is the one by the stairs. D-Do you need something to wear?”

“Uh, no I think I can manage in these,” you looked down at the t-shirt and joggers you were wearing, thankful you had changed into your civvies before going out of the precinct. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, no worries,” he nodded, walking back from his bed and coming past you. “If you need anything, I’m just down the hall.”

You nodded your head.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he pulled a package out of his pocket. “Toothbrush.”

You smiled as he handed it to you. clearly having thought of everything.

“You sleep well,” he placed a hand on your shoulder and leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek. As he began to pull away, his eyes met with yours and before you could control your actions you could feel yourself reaching out to him. An arm wrapped around his neck, toothbrush still in hand, one hand holding his face, and before you knew it you had pulled him fully into you, your lips pressed gently against his own.

At that moment, you didn’t care anymore, you didn’t care about fighting your feelings, about whether or not this would end terribly and whether it was a good idea in the first place. All that mattered is that you knew what you wanted, and you were going for it.

Castle pulled away after a moment, looking again into your eyes almost asking permission. Giving you a chance to back out in case this was all some mistake.

But when you leaned in again, he took his cue and met you in the middle.

His hands were wrapped so gently around your waist, careful not to squeeze or press too hard, avoiding your sore spots.

The second time you pulled apart it was for air, your foreheads resting against each other, the only sound in the room was your breathing.

“Would you…would you stay with me?” you asked.

He pressed another kiss to your lips and nodded.

“Anything you want,” he whispered, and he meant it.

You unwrapped your arm from his neck, looking down at the toothbrush in your hand with a small smile.

“I’m gonna go…” you looked to the washroom and he nodded saying something about getting changed.

After you finished brushing your teeth, you came back into the room just as Castle was about to slip on a t-shirt.

“Now we’re even,” he said. “And not a word to Beckett, Esposito, and Ryan,” he teased you.

“Come on, we both know you would love it if they knew,” you rolled your eyes and made your way closer to his bed.

“Nah,” he shook his head and slipped on his shirt. “I think I’m okay keeping this one to myself.”

When you sat on the edge of the bed, Castle stayed where he was, that same knowing look in his eyes.

“What are you staring at?” you asked, pulling your legs up and sitting cross-legged.

He just shrugged and came to the other side of the bed, it was odd how you’d never noticed that look. Had he always looked at you that way?

“Rick,” you said quietly and he nodded, showing you had his attention. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He chuckled a little, “I-Well I always thought you kind of hated me.”

“I kind of hate everybody,” you leaned back against the headboard. “I hate you a little less.”

He laughed and you did too, until you felt the ache in your ribs, prompting you to stop.

“I’ll take it,” he reached out to hold your hand and you took it, pulling him closer until this time he took the lead and cradled your face, kissing you again.

“You know,” you mumbled in between kisses. “You don’t have to not say things on my account, ever.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he assured you. “And you know you’ll always have a place here.”

“I could get used to that,” you nodded, holding his face in your hands and pulling him in even closer, until there was barely any space left between you.

He used the proximity to wrap one of his arms around the side of your waist that wasn’t bruised and pull you over more towards him, having you practically lean into his chest, until you both sunk down into the plush mattress.

“I don’t think I’m doing your lip much good,” he murmured while brushing his thumb across where you had split your bottom lip.

“It’ll heal,” you kissed his thumb which was still resting against your mouth.

“And so will you, but not if we stay up all night.”

You let out a small chuckle, “Alright, Doctor Castle, I’ll rest,” you conceded, letting your head rest against his chest, just high enough that he could bend his neck and press one last kiss to your forehead.

Closing your eyes, it felt nice to know that someone would be there to hold you when you woke up.

#richard castle #richard castle x reader #rick castle #rick castle x reader #castle abc #castle #richard castle fanfiction #richard castle fanfic #rick castle fanfiction #rick castle fanfic #castle fanfiction #castle fanfic

34 notes · View notes

jessilynallendilla · 4 months

Text

So I just read Danny Phantom: A Glitch in Time and...it was ok

Had this come out when I was a kid and just watched Ultimate Enemy I would have gone absolutely feral over it

this show came out in 2004 so not quite sure how to feel about the updated technology IMO it would have been cool to have a time capsule of the show than the common floating timeline you see in comics

unlike with DC graphic novels you can tell the person that wrote this is actually a fan of the show and not a rando corporate pick the plot is plausible and the characters stay in character

A loyal tribute that brings in new lore and character growth

it also retcons the hated movie Phantom Planet

And it leaves enough to be curious for the sequel

People either seem to love it saying it's a good continuation the more serious take they wanted or hate it saying they're tired of villains being complex and redeemable and not pure evil anymore and the plot seems too much like tumblr fanfiction

I made notes as a read it so spoilers under the cut

Dash Kwan Paulina and Star are ghost hunters

Tucker has instagram/twitter “Spectregram” fans

The Fentons supply the town’s ghost hunting tech unasked

Tucker’s wiki “click-a-pedia" has him listed as married to Ember

Danny and Jazz just accept their father is such a bungler he can’t even kill a guy by abandoning him in space

Dan was strong enough to dent the only thing that can contain him and just it being knocked off a shelf was enough for him to break out (why Clockwork the Master of Time never foresaw this happening moved it from a table to a more secure location ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

So uh... Dan just absorbed “ate” Clockwork

Ecto energy can reach atomic bomb levels so dimension ending threat there

Since the Disasteroid his powers have been fading their theories match their personalities Tucker-science Sam-government Jazz-trauma

“Do you have any childhood trauma you wanna talk about?” (like Jazz as if you weren’t there)

Vlad found a primordial source of ecto energy and just kept that information to himself for a rainy day

Jazz has a magical girl transformation for her ghost fighting suit

Vlad is just “ignore those clones” (there in clothes so did Vlad just buy multiple copies of Danny’s favorite outfit how did he know his size)

Vlad is such an old man who doesn’t know how to use modern computers

“not a place of honor” ah the nuclear waste warning (we don’t really get much more exploration of this or the seven ancients)

Sam is a horse girl

Valerie still holding that grudge huh

In Pariah’s Keep Danny is suffers from bad memories and holds Sam’s hand to comfort himself

The Keep is Fright Knight’s domain

Danny just forgets humans are the ghosts in the Ghost Zone (in line with how often he forgets what powers he has)

Fright Knight calls Pariah his master

Vlad is such a loser he keeps getting his shit kicked

Maddie “That’s not my Danny.”

The Ghost Zone and human world were split in half an unnatural divide

Danny is still a C student (io don't think he's going to be an astronaut)

Ghosts are manifestations of human emotions not separate entities (take that Fartman)

Eventually they start to lose their human identity it’s why some are less human

Vlad has his own “Where’s the rest of it?” meme

They figured out all ghosts run on some emotional drive or purpose

Danny realizes his purpose is protection but now there’s no longer the monster of the week threat or his parents he never asked himself what he wanted

Now instead of constant fighting he’ll help the ghost achieve their desires they just want to keep doing in death what they did in life and heal the rift

Fight for control Clockwork

Vlad finally grew as a person realizing it was his action and drive for power that drew everyone away and has making amends as his new purpose

Dan just doesn’t want to be alone (makes sense the “no more painful human emotions” +Vlad’s anger and abandonment issues so he’s all the emotions and pain)

Dan is destabilizing flashing back to his pre Dark child form because he’s a being outside his destroyed timeline

Danny is the GOAT

Clockwork needs to fix what he can of the time streams and Danny has two choices Post Disasteroid+no powers or Pre Disasteroid+powers

Danny gives up being accepted so he can fix the realms “I’m Danny Phantom, proctor of humans and ghosts!”

They are back to being invisible losers and Sam is just happy goths aren’t popular anymore

The city doesn’t know how they avoided the Disasteroid but the Mayor declares ghosts are responsible for everything the city will now have a branch of ghost hunters and Danny Phantom is again public enemy #1

Clockwork transfers Dan from Vlad into one of the empty clones he’s Vlad’s responsibility now he’ll be too busy to help again

Clockwork’s powers are finite (so he isn’t omnipotent and all powerful) but he still feels something wrong in the stitches he feels weaker now

And Valerie has a Time Medallion and is pissed (but there was a Valerie in the crowd at the Mayor’s speech so the two Valeries might meet up in the sequel)

Jazz is ecstatic she was right about ghosts being emotions based

#danny phantom #a glitch in time #agit #what I'm reading

26 notes · View notes

vaultlinkvt · 4 months

Text

This is the first proper thing I've drawn in ages (and first are I think I've posted in over 5 years?) I just needed to draw the opening to Act 5 and my reaction to it.

Nothing has gripped me in such a way and forced me to finish an art piece like this in so fucking long. I see far too much of myself in him. I just want them to be ok after this is all over. STARS, this is just Asriel all over again isn't it. But WORSE!/pos

…I guess that could make this vent adjacent? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I also made a shitpost edit that I posted separately here.

There are so many things covered by each other and I just need to share and talk about them. Bonus details and rambles under the cut.

Siffrin's expression was like the first thing I drew and if it didn't turn out as good as it did I probably wouldn't have spent almost 10 days slowly adding to this and I just need to show it because his hands/arms end up covering most of their face.

Nothing much else to say about him, I'm just super happy with how everything about him turned out (I did have to go back and redraw some of his hair towards the end because the line thickness wasn't consistent with everything I drew after.

Next is ME yippeeeee. I have no idea why I spent so long adding details even tho I knew alot of it would get covered by Sif 'cause of how I was posing this.

I even designed a little button based on the Change Ornament + Star (the Change Belief and Lost Belief in The Universe really spoke to me in so many ways)

The gloves are an Archery Glove on the right hand and a Drawing/Writing Glove on the left.

The cloak is based on the style of cloak my mom made for my family for SCA events when I was young. It's just a simple hooded cloak but it has a slit in each side so you can stick your hands threw without needing to open up the cloak. I imagine it being stylized like, the opening doesn't exist until you stick your hands threw and then it can just freely glide around the face of the cloak to wherever it's needed, stopping at the elbow only letting threw the forearm, below the slit beginning to hang off the elbow with gravity while the part above begins to move with the upper arm.

I didn't even try to draw the outfit under the cloak because dealing with the folds of a thick wool cloak was enough for me (you can see how I gave up at the knees because I KNEW Sif was gonna cover them up). What I imagine the outfit being is this big baggy tunic and pants that are tied down at the forearms/calves to keep from getting in the way, it's also supposed to have a big baggy turtleneck thing that can be pulled up as a(nother) hood (iirc, this sorta thing was used so someone could wear a chainmail hood without it grabbing your hair(there ware also like stand alone cloth hoods that did the same thing too but eh, my memory is bad I might just be misremembering this)) but I couldn't figure out the folds and ended up just doing a simple button up thing (which then got covered by Sif's big head anyway.)

I spent soooo long trying to draw my eyes, trying to figure out the shape, and ended up just doing a bunch of small tests to the side before finding one that actually looked right. Drag it over the face and see that it fit EXACTLY, didn't even need to redraw it or anything.... unless you're talking about the other eye in which case I just duplicated it, flipped, and did some perspective warping until it looked ok because I could NOT draw that again especially at a different perspective (can I just say I have no idea how I drew that creepy eye but I love it, it was the first eye I drew and I just threw 4 lines down what the fuck how. Also the Mira-ish one looks cute too but didn't fit the expression.) I also needed to figure out what the hell was wrong with the expression I had before so you get 2 faces from me figuring that out (turns out I had the eyebrows facing the wrong way.)

I ALMOST FUCKING FORGOT MY FRECKLES TOO AAAAAAAAA (they're actually missing from the version I posted in the official ISaT server.) It was super weird trying to add them at the obscenely low resolution I was drawing at and they're probably gonna get compressed to hell and back but I think they're cute.

final thing.

Why is my hair so similar to Sif's but longer? Like, you can see I was sketching over my drawing of him to make sure I'd keep the proportions right when I started working on myself but in the process I realized that I was basically drawing over his hair but longer for mine (drawing I was using as ref here made by @leemak)

Add that to the uncomfortably long list of things I have in common with Siffrin I guess.

#In Stars and Time #ISaT #ISaT Spoilers #ISaT Act 5 Spoilers #Siffrin #ISaT Siffrin #vLink Art #oh hay this is the first time I can finally use the tag I thought up for art of myself yay #technically the fan art tag would be 'fArt' instead but eh

27 notes · View notes

daimyosprincess · 1 year

Text

PART IV: ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

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

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

—SUMMARY: Your new relationship with the Mandalorian studies professor begins to take shape.

—WORD COUNT: 11.2k

—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), alcohol consumption by reader and others, reader described as having enough hair to grab, Dom/sub power dynamics (Dom!Boba and sub!reader), BDSM elements, oral sex (male and fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl), creampie, lots of pet names, praise kink, dirty talk, light degradation (discussed before, use of "slut" and "whore"), choking, hair pulling, one dude being a creep but nothing bad happens

As always, let me know if I missed anything that needs to be tagged! Mando'a translations at the end.

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: Y’all I’m not going to lie to you, this got filthy FAST and idk how this ended up at 11k but I’m not sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ And, yes, I am naming these chapters after different parts of a book because I think I’m clever. We've got some new chapter warnings this go around as well, so be sure to mind those!

A big thank you to @rexxdjarin and @agirlnamejacq for betaing, and thank you my beautiful readers for your all support and feedback 💖

Read on AO3 — Series Masterlist — Taglist

Rain plinks steadily against the thick, wavy glass of the library’s windows, its hypnotic rhythm lulling you into a trance as you watch the gray sky curl and coil outside from your post at the circulation desk. In your relaxed daze, your mind slips back to your date with Boba and the morning after. You think about how you got to fall asleep in his arms, tucked into his chest that was so warm and safe you only needed the sheet on top of you, and how even in his sleep he kept a protective arm slung over your body.

The way he woke you up with kisses on your neck, whispering how happy he was to wake up with you in his bed as his tongue laved over the bite-shaped bruise he left there the night before, and how it felt when you let him kiss down your body until he was once again laying between your thighs. How his hooded brown eyes searched for permission to continue like you would ever deny him any part of you.

“Can I taste you, princess? Can I have that pretty pussy for breakfast?”

“Please, it’s all yours.”

He was in no rush to take you apart, groaning into your wet heat and sucking more bruises into the tender skin of your thighs in between licking and fucking you with his tongue until you finally begged him to push you over the edge. After he let you soak his face, he stole you away to the shower, promising you his fingers and his cock. Afterwards you had returned the favor in the steamy, warm water, not content until he spilled every last drop of his release down your throat, cursing with his fist in your hair that you were going to suck the life out of him.

“No,” you smiled deviouly, licking the last dribble of cum off his cock, “just your soul, old man.”

Flashing you a shark-like grin through the haze of his release, he reached behind you and turned the water to cold before jumping out of the shower. You might not have forgiven him as quickly as you did if he hadn’t made you the best omelet you’d ever had for breakfast.

Since neither of you had been willing to part, you spent the day sprawled across him watching reruns on TV and talking about your lives: what books you liked, your dream vacations, what the best pasta sauce is, first crushes, anything really. The conversation flowed with such ease you might have talked the whole day away if you hadn’t gotten distracted with exploring each other’s bodies. It wasn’t all sex—though there was plenty of that too—it was soft touches mapping out curves and lines to memory, lips tracing over scars and dimples, warm hands on sore muscles. In short, it was pure bliss, like coming home after a long journey.

You had been loath to leave him when the treacherous sun started to set at the end of the day; Boba even threatened to keep you forever if you weren’t careful, as if that was supposed to make you want to leave any more. How could you be expected to sleep in your own bed now that you knew the warmth of his? Go to sleep without his chest rising and falling next to you? You were falling hard, tumbling down into love’s abyss with arms open and heart willing. That should scare you, it had in the past, but how could you be afraid when it was Boba Fett you were getting lost in?

When he finally did take you back to your apartment once the sun dipped below the horizon, you almost convinced him to come inside for “just one drink” before he thought better of your ploy to keep him and sent you through your door with a smack on the ass.

“Nice try, princess. I know what you’re up to.”

“What? I’m just being a hospitable host.”

“I’m pretty sure hospitable hosts don’t try to put their hands down their guests’ pants in the doorway.”

“The good ones do, and only for guests who can fuck like you.”

He laughed with that rich, delicious rumble of his then kissed you until your head spun and your lungs cried for air. Just thinking about it now makes your chest tighten and breath catch in the back of your throat. Gods I wish I could sneak over to his office and kiss him like that again. Run my hands over his broad shoulders and strong chest, feel his heartbeat quicken when I kiss him.

With the advent of classes, you’d hardly seen him outside of the afternoons when he’d walk you to your car at the end of the day. Talking on the phone every night was great, but it couldn’t replace actually being with him, especially when you’d been able to spend almost everyday with him those last two weeks of the summer break. All this time apart served to show just how much you enjoy just being around Boba; you miss the weight of his voice, the serenity of his solid presence, his dark eyes and the bright smile he seemed to reserve for you alone. He fed a part of you that you didn’t know was starving and tended to the soft pieces of yourself that had been trodden down by the unkinder parts of life.

Oh, and he can make me come so hard I forget my own name. Repeatedly.

The sound of someone actually saying your name interrupts your daydreaming. Unhappily snatched back from the rosy past to the dreary present Thursday, you swivel towards the source of the interruption: a smirking Selena leaning against the back office door with her arms crossed, smug. “Thinking about your professor again?”

“No,” you deny rather unconvincingly, rolling out your shoulders to sit up straight with a huff. You’d been caught fair and square but that didn’t mean you're going to admit it.

Your coworker scoffs, rolling her eyes, clearly not fooled by your posturing. “Pfft that’s not what the hearts in your eyes say. I think you even have a couple floating above your head.”

Looking around the spacious room, you throw your hands up. “Does nobody in this library have any work to do besides harass me?” There’s barely a patron in sight, the large oak tables in the atrium sitting empty except for a handful of students hunched under the green bankers lamps lining them.

“On a day like today? Absolutely not.” Selena drops down on the chair next to you with a yawn and a stretch, not bothering with the guise of work at all. “Did you decide what you’re wearing to the baccalaureate reception tomorrow?”

The event in question is the big kickoff to the academic year for faculty and staff at the end of the first week of classes. Held in the space the two of you are currently seated in, the library’s ornate atrium would be cleared of all its furniture and set up for an evening of hors d’oeuvres and drinks on the university’s dime. Despite the ostentatiousness of it all, you enjoyed the reception as it let you catch up with colleagues you rarely got to see during the academic year and mingle with the new professors. You were especially looking forward to this year’s, not in the least because it provided the opportunity to see a certain Mandalorian studies professor dressed to the nines.

“I was thinking of the green velvet dress, the one with the mesh top,” you answer. The outfit in question is one of your favorites; the rich material hugging your curves in all the right ways making you feel effortlessly sexy—you can’t wait to see Boba’s reaction to it. If you're lucky, you hope, he’ll drag you off somewhere and have his way with you before the night is over. And then again when we get back to his house.

Selena squeals and claps her hands excitedly. “Eeee, the one that makes you look snatched?” she wiggles her eyebrows at you “‘Cause if it is, your man doesn’t stand a chance!”

You laugh, curling your hands inward and cocking your head dramatically. “Yes, that one. You still got those black heels I can borrow?”

“Yeah, as long as I can use that clutch you let me use the other week.”

“It’s a deal,” you grin. “Oh, and Boba said we can get ready in his office so we don’t have to go all the way home and come back.”

“Are you sure he meant ‘we,’” she gestures between the pair of you skeptically, “or just you? I’m not trying to cut my contour while you two are going at it on the couch.”

You throw a pad of yellow sticky notes sitting on the computer at her. “He meant we, and besides,” you smirk, “I’ll just suck him off before you get there so you can fix my makeup after.” You both burst into giggles after a poor attempt of stifling them, your laughter earning you a glare from a passing professor, which you ignore.

Balancing her chin on her hand, your friend considers you for a moment. Her big brown eyes are a bit lighter than Boba’s, ringed with dark lashes and expertly applied winged eyeliner. “So you really like this Boba Fett then?”

A sunny smile spreads over your face, the answer easily on your lips. “You know what? I do, I really, really do. He’s strong and kind and funny in his own way, and he makes me feel safer than I have in my whole life. He matches my energy like… like he was made just for me. I don’t think I could ever get tired of looking at him or hearing him talk. He could read the kriffing phone book to me and I would be riveted.”

“Hold on, let me write all this down so I can send it to Hallmark for their next movie,” Selena interrupts, grabbing a pen from the cup on the desk. You roll your eyes and she snickers before softening. “Really though, I’m so happy for you, girl. It’s not every day you find someone who makes you feel like that.”

Her warmth and genuineness make your heart twinge: you are truly grateful to have a friend like her. “Thank you, Sel, that means a lot.”

She leans in and rests her head on your shoulder, and you give her a squeeze. “Now,” she starts, grinning, “do you know if he has any sons around our age for me?” Dissolving into giggles once more, you decide to give up on work for the remainder of the rainy day.

You rest a hand on your hip, taking a swig from your water bottle and admiring the efforts of the last half hour’s labor: the primly decorated circulation desk showcasing all the library’s services and resources for the reception guests to peruse. The attendees would begin arriving any minute and you were eager to present all the library offers for the faculty; you genuinely enjoy your work and you’re proud of the new primary source collection you’d established over the summer. It also meant you finally got to see Boba—you hadn’t gotten to see him when you and Selena went to his office to change, his department meeting having run over.

Try as you might, you can’t help the wanton tingle that sparkles down your spine under your dress, or heat creeping into your cheeks at the racy memories of the pleasure you found on his tongue, cock, and fingers. What you wouldn’t give for a quickie right now, just a little something to take the edge off…

“Excuse me, miss, where can we put the catering carts?”

Right, I’m supposed to be working. Stuffing all the wicked thoughts swirling in your head to the back of your mind, you smile at the event server and direct him down the hall. Hearing the swell of voices from the lobby, you turn and see the first attendees filing into the atrium, dressed in cocktail dresses and suits. Your eyes search for Boba in the crowd but you’re quickly caught up doing your presentation on the library’s collections and resources.

It’s not until your last group before you hand over your representative duties to Selena for the remainder of the evening that you spot Boba leaning against the wall across from the desk, watching you with Fennec at his side. Your practiced spiel jumbles together at the wicked gleam shining in his eyes and he smirks, whispering something to the handsome woman next to him. Taking a sip of water, you recover and roll your shoulders back to stick your tits out just a little more with your chin held high at his challenge.

After the group clears out and you hand things over to your friend, you saunter over to your two favorite professors. Sticking out a hip, you trail your eyes up the oxblood colored shirt stretched across Boba’s chest, taking in the delicious way his sharp onyx suit is tailored to his thick frame. Knowing what all is hidden underneath his clothes only makes the whole ensemble even hotter. “Can I answer any questions about the library for you, professors?” you ask in a syrupy voice, your tone laced with dark sugar.

Gazing at you rather appreciatively, Fennec answers first. “Yeah, are you free later?”

Your brows raise with a suggestive arch, biting your lip and leaning into her game. “Why, what do you have in mind?” you shoot back, letting your gaze linger on her pink lips.

She’s practically purring, running her long, graceful fingers down the length of your arm. “Why don’t you come home with me and find out, kitten?”

“Mmm sorry, no can do, Fenn,” you hum, flicking your eyes over to an amused Boba, “I already made plans with the new Mandalorian studies professor after this.”

“What? That old man?” she scoffs, flicking her intricate braid over her shoulder.

Boba throws an elbow at her, grumbling, “We’re the same karking age, Shand.”

“Well, Fett, I guess some of us just wear it better then.”

“I don’t know, that’s not what she was moaning in my ear last weekend,” Boba replies, as smooth as Corellian whiskey and just as sinful. A jolt of arousal shoots between your thighs, his open possessiveness sending heat straight to your core.

That remark earns a full-bellied laugh from Fennec. “Touché.”

Another faculty member passes by and steals Fennec away, allowing you to slip into her spot next to Boba and press your arm against his. While you don’t intend to hide your more-than-professional relationship with him, you don’t want to draw judgment down on either of you. “Fenn make you a little jealous?” you tease, bumping your elbow against him.

He smirks, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Not when I know you’re coming home with me, princess.” He slips a hidden hand between you and the wall to skim his fingertips down your back to settle his palm just above the swell of your ass, making your skin light up with the sensation of him. “It’s good to see you, babygirl, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it before the reception started,” he adds in a sweet, low voice, pressing a quick kiss into your hair. “And your presentation was excellent.”

You lean into him for just a heartbeat, savoring his affection before breaking away. The heated pulse between your thighs spurs you on. “Oh, you were actually listening? Looked to me like you were peeling this dress off me in your mind.”

“I heard you're supposed to imagine everyone else naked to do public speaking.”

You smack his arm, giggling. “That’s if you’re the speaker!”

“Ah well, it was worth it anyways,” he grins at you. Seeing a group approaching, he regretfully takes his hand off your back.

A few faculty from the biology department come over and greet you, its ever-affable head, Professor Bernard, pressing a glass of champagne in your hand. “The department of biology’s honorary member needs a drink!” he proclaims with a hearty laugh before clapping a hand on Boba’s shoulder, telling him, “Come see this one here if you need anything. She’s found papers and journals I didn’t even know still existed!”

“I’ve heard she has some… special skills,” Boba answers with a quirk of his lips.

Catching the tone gilding his words, you slide your gaze over to him and see that same mischievous twinkle in his eye. Oh, so it’s going to be like that then? Hope he knows what he’s started. The conversation continues as introductions are made on both sides and stories of the first week of classes are shared.

“You didn’t get stateside until a few weeks before the semester? How on earth did you manage to get everything done, old sport?” Bernard questions.

“Oh, that would be thanks to me,” you interject, grinning at the ensuing laughter, “Lucky for Professor Fett here, I was able to work very closely with him to get everything he needed.”

“And for that, I am eternally grateful. It’s not everyday you get someone who's so eager and willing to please,” Boba replies calmly, sipping from his own drink like he’s simply discussing the weather.

You cover your scoff with your glass and drain the rest of it. “And now since he owes me one, I’ve got him at my mercy. Just where I like him.”

“Looks like you’re in for it now, my friend!” the old biology professor guffaws, grasping Boba’s hand in a firm shake. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Fett. Stop by my office for a drink some time.”

The group moves on to the next familiar face in the crowd, leaving you and Boba alone. “Better watch it, princess,” he rumbles, enticing danger coating his words, “Or I won’t show you any mercy later tonight.”

With a cursory glance to confirm that no one is watching, you brush your lips over his ear, just enough to raise chill bumps on his tan skin. “Oh, professor,” you whisper, sordid and low, “that’s what I’m counting on.”

Though he’s never confirmed it in so many words, you know your professor likes to watch you play your little games, talk and flirt and ensnare yourself so deep in your own undoing you have no choice but to beg him for mercy when the night is over. He’s the patient hand of justice to your calculated subversive impulse, the solid weight to balance your scales. He’s the rock you scrape your match against to set your passions ablaze.

You’d learned to build bonfires, great roaring things, on the summer camping trips you’d taken with your cousins as a kid. You were even quite good at it, the framing of the timbers and the flick of the wrist necessary to strike the flint coming naturally to you. Maybe that’s why you were so good at burning through Boba’s patience with slippery innuendos and heated looks.

You know building a fire takes time; seasoned wood must be gathered, tinder procured, a spot cleared for the blaze, all this before the pyre can be built stick by stick. If constructed correctly, the dry litter would catch the struck spark and burn bright and hot, igniting the kindling to crackle and snap, eventually spreading the growing flames to the larger logs for a sustained burn. If the ratio of smaller sticks and thicker pieces was off or the build of the bonfire didn’t allow enough oxygen in to feed the early feeble flames, then the pyre would be nothing more than a smoking pile of cold wood. And that would not bring Boba to a boil, make him spill over hot and scalding in vexed passion.

His restraint and control were truly commendable. To his credit, he’d spent the larger part of the evening calmly watching you work the room during the baccalaureate reception, gifting smiles and glittering laughs to men who didn’t deserve them and to women who wouldn’t actually do anything with them, even if they wanted to. You are in your element and you know it, making you not only powerful but dangerously so.

Taking a sip of the sparkling flute of champagne pressed into your hand by the one of the history department, you let your eyes wander around the vibrant space, taking in the celebratory atmosphere around you as laughter and animated conversation twine together in a lively buzz. You take your time in your survey, knowing that your gaze would eventually land on what it sought. You spot Selena next to one of the exquisite floral arrangements decorating the room laughing with one of the film professors and Fennec leaning against one of the polished marble columns in deep conversation with a pretty woman with sparkling eyes. Looks like I’m not the only one going home with somebody tonight.

Finally, your languid scan of the party falls on its target: a certain Mandalorian studies professor. He looks truly glorious under the glistening chandeliers illuminating the library, they cast a soft, warm glow that makes his bronze skin gleam and scars glint with tantalizing effect. It’s his eyes, however, that make your knees go weak: they shine dark and expressive, the umber of them always on you no matter where you found yourself in the room. If eyes really are the windows to the soul like they say, then Boba Fett has a soul like the ocean, with unknowable depths and enough pressure to break bones, towering waves that doom sailors and hidden currents that whisk the unsuspecting into the abyss.

Gods above, you want to drown in him even if it takes calling down Poseidon's wrath to do so. You’ve built your pyre, now all that’s left is to light it.

Putting on your most dazzling smile, you sidle over to the drinks table to casually “bump” into Professor Lancaster, the admittedly handsome 30-something hot shot bachelor of the university faculty. “Oh, I am so sorry!” you apologize in a breathy rush, immediately grabbing a napkin to dab at the splash of champagne on the young man’s suit jacket. The look of surprise on Lancaster’s face swiftly morphs into opportunistic pleasure when he sees that the person with their hands on him is the young research librarian in a tight dress.

He grins. It’s a scavenger’s smile, hungry for a kill that isn’t his. “No worries, bright eyes. You okay?”

“Better now that I’m with you.” His brows shoot up and, you’re absolutely sure, so does his dick based on the way his pupils dilate. “Sorry,” you giggle, fluttering your lashes, “too much?”

You can feel how his greedy gaze slides over your exposed skin in open interest. “Maybe not enough,” he winks, “Let’s get you another drink.”

You spend the next twenty minutes at the young professor’s side as he slowly inches you towards the side door by circulating from one group to another under the guise of “making introductions”—like you didn’t already work at the university. The entire time you sneak peeks at Boba watching your antics with rapidly decreasing levels of patience. Eventually, you lose sight of him behind a cluster of English professors.

You’re literal feet from the exit when Lancaster slides a hand down to your waist, tugging you against his side by your hip bone. “What do you say, bright eyes? Wanna get out of here?”

The pompous look on his face tells you everything you need to know about this man: he’s used to getting what he wants and he’s not afraid to take advantage of your possible inebriation to get it. He’s disgusting. Suddenly, you’re very conscious of how much you dislike this man and consider slamming your heel down on his overpriced loafer. Before you get the chance, however, a familiar deep voice sounds from behind your back.

“Excuse me, I have some business with this one here.” Boba’s voice leaves no room for disagreement, at least if one was smart enough to know it.

Lancaster, unsurprisingly, is not. “We were just leaving,” he says dismissively with an annoyed expression, reaching to turn you towards the exit, “It’ll have to wait.”

“Don’t think it can,” Boba responds flatly. He grabs your bicep and peels you out of his grasp. Ignoring the younger man’s sputtering as he leads you down one of the hallways branching off from the atrium, going far enough that the noise from the reception starts to fade off. Rounding the corner into the stacks, he abruptly flattens you against the wall, caging you in and pinning you with his hips.

If his slight manhandling of you before had you wet, this has you soaked: his thick forearm rests on the wall next to your head while his other hand remains locked around your upper arm, just tight enough to remind you it could bruise if it got any tighter. His hips, however, are likely to leave their mark on yours—it’s all enough to drive you nearly insane with desire. You’re too hot for your own skin and Boba is radiating enough heat to brand you and melt your brain like wax.

“Not so brave now, are you, little princess?” Boba croons, licking his lips like he can taste your salt on his tongue. “Now that you’ve got nowhere to run and no pretty boys to bat your lashes at.” His muscular thigh pushes its way between your own and he grinds up into your center, forcing a moan up behind your teeth.

“I have… no idea… what… you’re talking… about,” you gasp, writhing on his thigh as your hands fly out to fist his suit jacket in a gnarled grip. You can feel your brain melting down the sides of your skull under his piercing gaze.

“Oh, you don’t?” he mocks, “Well let me enlighten you then, sweetheart. You spent the entire evening driving every man and the women Shand didn’t get to first out of their minds with your pretty little face and flirty little mouth. And all for what, to get my attention?”

You’re burning so hot you can’t even think, much less get your tongue to unstick to form a coherent sound, so all you can answer with is round, shiny eyes and a shiver.

“Well, now you have it, princess,” he continues, a predatory smirk slashing across his dark features that makes your insides twist with his danger. “What are you gonna do with it?”

“I-I was just having fun,” you manage, your voice coming out hoarse and pitchy. Boba’s pressed so far into you that you’re scraping along his thigh as you ride it.

He grunts, shaking his head in disbelief. “She says she was ‘just having fun…’” he mumbles to himself as if the thought is amusing to him. You flash a tentative smile in hopes of sweetening him up, but the lurid flash in his eyes signal that it’s far too late for such mercy. “If that’s what you do for fun, princess,” he hisses out the pet name, “then it looks like I need to keep you on a shorter leash.” Releasing your bicep, Boba’s hand wraps around your throat faster than your muddled perception can register.

The strangled curse that claws up from your chest can’t even escape the confines of your throat to sound. Blood rushes to your head as your entire existence narrows down to the rough hand pressing in on your airways. You’re gushing into your panties, the amount of wetness now coating your thighs utterly obscene. Fuck he’s going to be the death of me and I want him to do it.

Boba’s rumble of pleasure at your response rattles in your own chest as he eases up on the pressure of his fingers to let you suck in desperate air, rubbing the delicate flesh underneath. “Oh, you liked that didn’t you? You like it when I’m rough, dirty girl.” His taunts are pouring fire into your bloodstream and sweat begins to slick your skin. Leering, he drags his tongue over your racing pulse point and your mind goes searingly blank. For a moment, you think you might have actually come with the way blinding pleasure floods your entire body.

“Fuck, Boba!”

A sinful chuckles drips from his plush lips into your damp skin, and he seals it away there with a wet kiss before pulling back to look into your glazed eyes. “Do you know what I do with brats who forget their place?” he asks in a timbre so low you can feel it in your bones.

This you know, you think, this you can push back on and regain some ground. “You punish them with your silly little toys and spank their asses a bit,” you spit out, your derision honed sharp as your initial surprise begins to wear off.

“Oh no, princess, you’d enjoy that too much.” An acidic laugh pours from his lips, making your blood run painfully cold, and he smiles at you like you’re struggling prey caught in his maw. “What I do,” he growls, “is I don’t let them come.”

Before the words even leave the air between you, Boba releases you and pushes away from the wall where he had you pinned. You stumble forward, your head spinning with the dizzying loss of contact and terrifying revelation. Panic sticks needles into your skin. He wouldn’t… he couldn’t. He couldn’t, right?!

“Aww, is that not what you were expecting, sweetheart?” Boba asks with a crushing amount of false sympathy, chucking up your chin on two fingers. You’re coming apart at the seams and he loves it. “Thought you could pull one over on me?”

Heart pounding against your ribs, you race to figure a way to repair your situation, one that ended up with him fucking you through at least one orgasm. Kark, why did I think this was all a good idea again? Gods I’m so kriffing wet I can’t think. Come on… focus, focus! The second you get the idea you act on it, wasting no time debating its worth.

You drop to your knees right in front of him, yanking him forward by his belt buckle. Boba catches himself against the wall with an outstretched arm and a curse, his smug expression shattered by genuine shock. As he stares down at you with wild eyes, you grin a wicked thing. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was that not what you were expecting?”

Boba stares at you like you’ve remade his entire universe, his broad chest heaving under the straining buttons of his shirt. Sucking in a ragged breath, he hauls you to your feet and slams into you, his hand cupping the back of your skull so it doesn’t hit the wall when his lips crash into yours. You pulse and throb into one another, your every breath melting into his as your hands claw into clothes seeking the heat of the other. He becomes you and you become him as time stops moving—if only for a minute.

“Baby, princess, angel,” Boba moans into your mouth, “I gotta have you, I have to have you right fucking now. Go to your office and start touching yourself. Get yourself nice and ready so I can slide right into that perfect cunt as soon as I get you home. I’m going to pull the car around.”

Your panties don’t even make it into the house: Boba literally tears them off you as soon as he puts the car in park in his driveway, stuffing them into his pants pocket and promising to buy you a hundred more so he can do it again. Stumbling with you up the blessedly short path to his front door with a handful of your ass, Boba jams his key into the lock and you both tumble in the door, lips still connected. “Shit, aren’t you always good for a surprise?” he pants between kisses, fumbling with the door bolt until it locks behind him. “Dropping to your kriffing knees in the library. Kark, couldn’t even punish you after that, my bold little princess. Made me too fucking hard.”

Your lips smile against his as you push his jacket from his shoulders. “You just bring it out of me, sir, I-I can’t help it. Couldn’t stand the thought of not having you.” Boba groans at the epithet and you start pulling open his buttons with shaking hands. “That’s why I do it… can’t help myself, just want you so kriffing bad.” When you reach his pants at the end of his shirt, he snatches your wrists and spins you so your back is shoved against the door.

“You’re so good to me, so fucking good. Even when you’re a brat, you’re my little angel, doing it all for me. Maker, you’re perfect.” Boba snags the hem of your dress and bunches it over your hips, allowing the cool air access to your slick folds and making you shiver. “Good girls get rewarded, don’t they, princess? Yeah, that’s right. I’m going to make you feel so, so good, give you the reward you deserve.”

Your desire-dazed brain can’t decide whether to focus on the stream of filth pouring forth from his mouth or his lips as they kiss over your dress and down to your soft belly as he comes to kneel in front of you. Effortlessly tossing your leg over his shoulder while balancing you against him, Boba steadies your body with his hands on your hips. “Will you let me return the favor, pretty girl? Will you let me lick up this perfect pussy?”

Smiling down at him with lust-blown eyes, you answer in a breathy laugh. “But I didn’t even actually suck you off.”

“Bet you would have, though, princess, if I had let you.”

Fuck, he’s probably right. You weren’t kidding when you said you can’t help yourself. “Yeah, I would have,” you giggle, “Why didn’t you?” The thought of slipping his thick cock in between your lips when all those other people were just a hallway away sends a fresh wave of arousal dripping from your core.

“Mmm because I want to hear every single sound that comes out of your mouth tonight… and none of those fuckers deserve to even think about you, much less hear those sweet noises you make when you’re coming apart.” Boba begins layering sloppy kisses over your thighs and abdomen, circling ever closer to your drenched center. His dark eyes flick you to capture yours in a heated gaze. “Let me hear it, pretty baby, can I eat this sweet cunt?”

Lacing your fingers with his hand on your opposite hip, you lean your head back on the door. “Please, sir, please let me have your tongue.”

The words don’t even finish leaving your lips before he dives into between your legs, groaning like a man starved getting his first meal in months. The sounds of his slurping and sucking have your knees giving out almost immediately, rapturous pleasure consuming your entire being. All that exists is the way his tongue fucks into you, the way his lips wrap around your aching clit and how he pulls moans deep from within your stuttering chest. When his thick, calloused fingers push inside your weeping heat and curl, your hand slaps over your mouth to stifle a ragged scream as explosions of color blur your vision.

Boba claps his palm against your ass and pops off your clit. “Don’t you fucking dare cover that mouth of yours. I want to hear everything, sweetheart, I want you to wake up the whole fucking neighborhood with how good I make you feel.”

The torturous coil in your belly tightens to a delicious pain and you let your pleasure be heard, your jaw falling slack as your head tips back against the heavy wooden door. Boba redoubles his efforts, cursing and praising, sucking and licking, twisting you tighter and tighter around your own desire until it’s almost unbearable. When a third finger slips into you, it feels like the floor drops from beneath your feet and you know you're doomed to your desire. “Please, can I-can I-”

“Fucking come all over me,” he growls straight into your clit, digging so deep into you think you see the Maker.

A wail tears free from your chest, echoing off the walls and vibrating in your skull as you dissolve into pure pleasure, raw and vulnerable against the mountain of his body. To be so ethereal and untouchable in his arms is a new, divine dimension of your ecstasy that heals you even as you fall apart into a soaked, quivering mess.

“Nau’ul be kar’ta,” Boba coos in a voice like crushed velvet, rich and dark, “my beautiful, perfect girl, come here.” You collapse in a trembling heap into his waiting arms, your mind nothing but a plane of warm, fuzzy bliss. You’re lifted and arranged in his lap by impossibly strong hands as you drift through the glowing stars of your high. Boba rocks you gently against his heaving chest, a stream of patient praise streaming from his lips pressed into your hair. “You did so good for me… taste so sweet, makes me want to keep you on my tongue forever… kark, bet the whole street is jealous with how loud you were, such a good girl, letting me hear that sweet voice just like I asked…”

Eventually your senses start to return and you wiggle around to straddle him, placing your molten core directly over top of his straining erection and eliciting a graveled groan from him. “Mmm, that was amazing, professor,” you hum into his throat, “Now let me return the favor.” You tug his shirt off and he lets you drop it to the floor. “I wanna go over every single tattoo on your body with my tongue until it’s all I can remember.”

“Kark, you’re filthy, princess,” he groans, his cock twitching with interest underneath his pants as hauls you up with him off the floor. By the time you stagger to the bedroom, your clothes are gone, littered in a trail from the door to his room. Seizing your opportunity, you shove him back on the mattress and hop on top of him, pushing a grunt from him that makes you giggle. “Easy, little one, I’m not as young as I once was,” he grits out between your kisses.

Grinning into the thick muscle of his pec, you nip at the ink you just traced with your tongue. “Sorry, I forgot I have to be careful with you, old man.” Boba pinches your ass and you squeak, though you remain unrepentant.

“You must want me to be mean to you tonight, sweetheart.”

You continue licking and sucking over the dark swirling patterns on his chest. “Mmm, maybe I do.” While you’d never been much for that sort of thing before, none of those men before had been Boba. If his praise is sweeter than honey you can only imagine how delicious his ire would be, and something hot sparks between your legs. “But I wouldn’t want to wear you out, old timer.”

A dangerous, low chuckle emanates from the ribs under your lips and your insides twist into knots. “You really know how to bring it out of me, don’t you, naughty princess? I think you really do want me to be mean, want me to treat you just like how you’ve been acting all evening.” Snatching you against his chest, he grabs your jaw in a tight grip. “Tell me, little one, is that what you want? You want me to call you names and remind you who you belong to?” He brushes his thumb over your cheek in a small show of affection that reminds you this is all a game, and you can call it off if you want to. It makes your heart sing—and your pussy clench.

“Yes, Boba,” you rasp, molten desire pumping hot and heady under your heated skin, “I want that, please.” You’ve accepted the fact that Boba Fett makes you want things that you never have before, sinful things that make your cheeks burn and heart race. It’s a forbidden fruit that the professor is all too willing to indulge you in, him licking up its sweet juice as it dribbles down your chin.

“Anything you don’t want me to call you? Any limits you want to set?” he questions, his voice taking on that firm, guiding tone he always used when he worked through things with you.

Chewing your lip, you consciously slow your breath like how Boba taught you so you can focus in the moment when you’re all worked up. “Don’t call me ‘bitch’ or anything too serious like that. ‘Whore’ and ‘slut’ are fine though.”

He nods, placing a quick kiss on your forehead. “Remember to stop me if you don’t like something, babygirl, I’ll never be upset if you do. What’s our word?”

“Kamino,” you answer dutifully, wriggling a little in your excitement, desire licking up your thighs—your evening-long machinations were about to come to fruition.

“Good girl,” he praises, “Ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

The dominant, possessive side Boba tucked away during your discussion returns tenfold more wicked now that it’s all decided. He sits up, taking you with him as drops down into the armchair against the wall. “Then get on your knees,” he sneers, “You want to act like a whore, throwing yourself at everyone who shows you any interest in that tight little dress you had on, I’m going to treat you like one. I want you sucking my dick like that’s all you know how to do.”

You drop so fast it makes your head spin, allowing your base desire to freely submit. You undo his belt with hungry fingers, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants to reveal his half-hard girth. Instead of yanking down the last barrier separating him from your tongue, you run your nails up his thighs and drag your open mouth over his growing bulge over his underwear, pulling a hiss from his lips.

“I didn’t say tease me, girl,” he admonishes, though he’s fully hard now, straining against the confines of the fabric still on him. “If you do as you’re told, maybe I’ll think about giving that pussy what I know it needs.”

You moan into him, his cock jumping at the feeling. You tear down his underwear and his beautiful cock springs forth, proud and already leaking. “Fuck,” you exhale as you take him all in, “you’re so big.” Kark, I swear he’s even bigger than last time.

“Aw, don’t be scared, sweetheart, I like it when they choke,” he taunts with a cruel chuckle that goes straight to your sopping cunt. He pumps his tanned length a few times and your mouth waters at the sight of it. “Now open up that pretty mouth.”

Your jaw drops open and you stick your tongue out, wide and ready, your hands folded in your lap. Wiggling in anticipation, you blink big eyes up at him through your lashes.

“Fuck, look at you. You’re fucking filthy for me, aren’t you? On your knees right where you belong, tongue out like the good little slut you are. Go ahead, princess, I know you want it.” He smacks the head of his cock on your waiting tongue and you lunge forward, ravenous for more of him. He groans as you swirl around his frenulum, lapping off the pearls of precum waiting for you. Your hands travel up his thighs and he releases his grasp to let you replace it with your own.

Cupping his balls, you plant wet, sloppy kisses down his length, pleased when you feel the slightest tremble in his thighs. Peeking up at him, you find Boba looking down at you, his eyes pitch black and voracious in their desire. Keeping your gaze fixed on him, you lean in and pepper kisses around his base before flicking your tongue out to drag along the seam of his balls.

“Shit-fuck!” His right hand flies to your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “Kark, you’re dirty,” he rasps, tugging your face back a little to look in your eyes.

You grin up at him, spit already dripping down your chin. “Just for you, sir.” Your voice is breathy, your chest already heaving from exertion.

“Good girl, learning her place already. Now finish this up for me, little princess, I still have to fill that pussy full so everyone knows just who you belong to.” The whimper that falls from your lips would have been embarrassing if you weren’t so turned on you can barely form a thought that isn’t concerned with getting his dick inside you. “Aw, does that make you wet, pretty baby?” he mocks, clearly enjoying your depraved reactions. “You like it when I talk to you like you’re my personal whore, my warm mouth and tight little pussy to take whenever I feel like it?”

You pull at the hand holding you back by your hair, desperate to have him down your throat, desperate to cry and gag at the size of him. Boba chuckles, deep and pleased in his chest and loosens his grip so you can get him back in your eager mouth. Once you have him heavy on your tongue, you hum happily and begin bobbing your head over his velvet length, gradually taking more of him into your mouth. Boba’s hips stutter when you slide your tongue along the pulsing vein on the underside of his cock, triggering your gag reflex.

You try to swallow down the suffocating feeling, but the sheer girth of him makes your throat close up. Choking and coughing, you pull off of him, tears beading in your lashes and spit running down your neck. Boba takes your face in his warm, calloused hands and tilts your face up to him. “Everything okay, little one? Too much?” he asks, concern lining his handsome face.

“No,” you pant, voice already ragged, “‘s perfect, just caught me by surprise.” You smile up at him then turn your head to kiss his palm. He’s so good to you that it makes you ache.

He swipes his thumbs over your cheeks, wiping away the moisture collected on your lashes. “Okay, I want you to tap me anywhere three times if you need to stop. It’s the same as our word if you can’t speak. Can you say that back to me so I know you understand?” You nod, repeating back the information. “That’s my good girl,” he beams, “Now I think there’s something you need to finish.”

You’re on him in an instant, guiding him back into your waiting mouth hungrily. As much as you love licking and sucking up and down his cock, slurping and swirling with abandon, what you really want is to do is take him to the hilt and swallow him down until he loses control. Taking what hasn’t made it past your lips in hand, you start pumping him and twisting your wrist, your fingers sliding easily over his spit-soaked skin.

“Fuuuu- that’s it,” he grunts, “look at you taking me so well. You must really want me to fuck you, my filthy little princess, must really want- shit.” He hisses, his hand shooting out to brace himself against the wall when slide enough of him in your mouth to take your hands off him to rest them on his hips. You look up to see his eyes screwed shut and his jaw clenched, and you hum appreciatively around the thickness stuffing your mouth, “Osik, d-do it, I know you can take it all, sweetheart. Do it for me and-shit-and I’ll fuck you so good I’ll be dripping from your pussy for days.”

You moan, your throat relaxing to take the last inch and you swear you could’ve come just from the sound that ripped free from his chest if it didn’t take all your brainpower to keep him seated in your mouth.

“Kark-fucking-stars above,” Boba chokes out, his free hand coming to guide you up and down his cock at a steady pace, “Look at you taking it all, I’m so proud of you, so p-proud, fuck, pretty girl.” His eyes are locked onto where he’s disappearing over and over again into your open mouth.

Blinking up at him with watery eyes, you swallow around his thick cock and he snarls. He tugs you off him and pulls you up into his arms, kissing you like he needed you to breathe and walking you both back until your thighs hit the bed. It feels like he’s everywhere, his tongue filling your mouth, his hands grabbing every inch of you as his hips pin down your own. “Shit, open up those legs for me, princess, I need to be inside you right fucking now.”

You fall back on the mattress, letting your thighs fall open. “Please, sir,” you gasp when two of his thick fingers slide inside you with no resistance.

Boba groans, the sound so deep it feels like it rattles in your own. “This fucking wet just from sucking my dick. Kark, you’re really a whore for an old man aren’t you, sweetheart?” You can only moan in response, clenching around his rough fingers and keening into him, unable to communicate any more of an answer than that. “Cockdumb already, little princess? Here I thought you were my big girl… maybe I should just go back to fucking your mouth if you’re not going to use it. You certainly were eager to run it earlier though, weren’t you? Talking to all those other men like they could possibly make your sweet little pussy feel like I can.”

His thumb finds your clit and you cry out, arching into him. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me, please give me your cock!” Your head is snatched back by your hair, making a high whine catch in your abused throat at the sudden movement.

“You know better than to say my name,” he threatens, his rasp dangerously low. “Mmm, since you suck cock so good I’ll let it slide this one time, but you had better not forget again, little girl. You hear me?” Boba’s eyes are ablaze with dark fire, the intensity of him burning with the heat of a dying star, sucking you into his inescapable gravity.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” you whimper. His scalding words are going to make you come apart at the seams just as much as his fingers.

“Oh, you will be.” He pulls out you with an obscene squelch, a trail of your arousal connecting him to you. “Look at that, my princess wants it so bad. She wants anything I fucking give her. Isn’t that sweet? No, you know what, don’t answer that. Be a good little slut and clean this up for me.” He pushes his slick coated fingers past your swollen lips and you moan at the tang of your own arousal, your heady taste spreading over your tongue as you suck his fingers clean. He removes his hand from your face, the digits in your mouth coming out with a lewd pop.

Lining himself up with your dripping slit, Boba takes your face gently in his large hand, the caress so much softer than his previous words. “Hey, look at me, babygirl.” You slide your gaze up his broad chest to find his sable eyes. “You good? Everything okay? I know I usually prep you a little more than this.”

“Yeah, s’good. I’m so fucking wet, bet you’ll slide right in,” you giggle, slurred and happy. Truthfully, you hope it’d hurt a little, just enough so that you’d feel it tomorrow—a secret reminder that you were his.

Boba gives you a smile, a real smile bright and shining, not one of his mean ones from your game. “Okay, little one. Remember you can say your word or tap me three times if it gets to be too much. I don’t want my princess hurting.”

Golden affection blooms in your chest even as you give him a sassy little salute. “Yessir.”

“Maker, what am I going to do with you?” he huffs, exasperated. The twinkle in his eye betrays him, however.

“Hopefully, fuck me.”

“As you wish, brat.” Boba slots his lips over yours and slides into your heat, inch by inch as you moan into each other’s mouths, completely enraptured with the feeling of one another. When he pulls back to sink in further, he hisses out a curse. “How’re you always so fucking tight? Shit, you feel so fucking good.”

The way he’s slowly splitting you open makes your eyes roll back in your head, your hands scrabbling across his shoulders for purchase. “Fuck, you’re going to tear me in two… don’t stop,” you whine. The stretch around his cock burns, quickly fizzling into hot pleasure that makes you crave more, deeper, harder. It’s ungluing the edges of your mind, pushing your good sense out of your skull one thick inch at a time. Tears prick your eyes at the delicious strain, your teeth biting down on Boba’s lip as he pushes flush with your hips. You’re not sure if the guttural moan is his or yours or both combined, you’re so full of him.

Boba snaps his hips, jolting you further up the bed and setting a harsh pace that has your legs shaking around his hips. You’re burning, melting, screaming, completely wrecked by his pleasure. He’s leaning over you now, an arm bracing himself next to your head as he drills into you with unwavering force. Tearing his lips from yours, he licks a searing stripe up your neck that makes you clench around his pounding thrusts. “Fuck, you think that boy can fuck you like this? Think he can stretch you out on his cock and make you cry and beg for him? Hmm?”

Hot tears spill down your cheeks. Whimpering, you shake your head. “N-no, s-sir, only you! Onlyyouonlyyou, fuck, only you!”

“Fuck, you’re dirty, aren’t you? Ready to suck my dick with all those people there, riling me up all night so I’d take you back here and fuck you like the slut that you are for me. That’s right, isn’t it? Yeah, I know it is. You’re such a good little slut for me, taking my cock like that’s all you were made for. Kark, I bet you’d let me fuck you in front of all of them wouldn’t you, my filthy little princess?”

You moan, raking your nails down his back and making him curse in pleasure. “I w-would do anything, you feel so good, fuck, I would let you do anything to me! Just don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

“You want it, huh? You want me to fuck you and make you all mine, fill up that tight little cunt and so my cum runs down your legs? You gonna take every drop I give you like the good little girl I know you are?”

“Yes, sir, please,” you sob, overwhelmed by the rough drag of him against your collapsing walls and his skin burning into you with each thrust of his powerful hips.

“Then tell me who this pussy belongs to, I wanna hear you say it so you never karking forget it again.”

“You, you, it belongs to you!”

“Say my name, princess, say my fucking name.”

“Boba! It belongs to you, Boba Fett, I’m all fucking yours, Boba, please!”

He pulls back, grabbing the back of your thighs and shoving them up, folding you in half. Slamming back into you, he slides a hand between your bodies to rub your clit in tight, maddening circles.

“More, please more!” you beg, clawing at his free hand until he lets you have it, and you place it on your throat.

Boba growls, wrapping his fingers around your neck and squeezing so that your world narrows down to just the feeling of him. Finally just him and nothing else.“Osik, you’re so fucking filthy and perfect, never wanna stop fucking this sweet cunt. K’atini ner cyare!”

“I’m gonna… can I… please,” you choke out, barely holding onto the last shreds of your sanity against the onslaught of ecstasy burning through you.

Groaning, Boba covers your mouth with his. “Come for me, soak my cock, give it to me, come on, princess, I know you can do it.”

Everything goes blank, your muscles constricting and your nails digging into his shoulders. Pure, electric energy fires through your veins, overloading your senses to a searing bright pleasure that makes you understand how the universe could start with a bang. You’re rocked with two, three, more pumps that shatter your fledgling universe and then you’re flooded with the sweet heat of his release.

You’re not entirely sure if you’re conscious as you float through the glittering galaxies that flash behind your eyes in dazzling color; you’re not even sure you remember how to breathe but you must be, because your lungs aren’t protesting. The next thing you’re truly aware of is being in Boba’s arms, laying curled into his chest on the bed while his fingers scratch pleasantly against your scalp. Humming in delight, you snuggle deeper into his woody scent.

“Mmm, there she is,” he chuckles, the warm sound buzzing in his chest.

“Nuh uh,” you shake your head, squeezing your eyes back shut—you want to be lost in him forever.

“Gotta come back some time, pretty girl, or I can’t get you in a nice warm bath then tuck you in bed with me,” he entreats, rubbing warmth into your limbs with calloused hands.

You consider this tempting offer; it certainly would be better than sleeping sticky all night, you suppose. “Can you bring me a snack?”

“I can bring you a snack.”

“And I can have a massage?”

Boba lets out an amused huff, giving you a squeeze. “And I will give you a massage,” he confirms.

You make a show of pondering the issue further, chewing your lip and studying the ceiling thoughtfully. “I guess I’ll allow it then, professor.”

Boba laughs again and eases you both up to a sitting position before sliding from underneath you so he can walk around to your side.

Rolling over, your thighs spread a little, and you gasp and slap them back together when you see the mess there. “Boba!” you squeak.

“What, little one?”

“You, it-it,” you stutter, tripping over the words in your shock, “how is there so much?”

He cocks a brow and you let your legs fall all the way open. “Oh, princess,” he breathes out, his voice a strained rasp. The inside of your thighs are slick with both your cum and your folds are coated in his pearly release, the excess dripping down to soak a spot on his sheets. Boba reaches down and spreads your lower lips a little farther apart, sending more of him leaking down your slit. Boba curses and you bite down hard on your bottom lip around the moan flooding up your chest.

“Well,” he grins, smug as the cat who caught the canary, “I did tell you I was going to fill you full, princess.”

Feeling equally refreshed and drowsy from your warm bath, you robotically go through the motions of your nighttime routine. From his bathroom mirror, you catch a glimpse of Boba where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed: he looks forlorn, his eyebrows furrowed over a pensive expression. For such a larger-than-life man, he seems almost… small.

His pain weighs heavy on your soul, prompting a visceral reaction in your gut. The muscles in your chest tighten and your arms yearn to press him close so there would be no room for pain in his body. Flicking off the light, you pad over to him with deliberate ease as not startle him in his revelry; Boba is a hardened man, you know, but you want to nurture that slip of vulnerability he allows himself in your presence, protect it close to your own.

He smiles when he sees you approaching, quickly papering over his melancholy expression with a happier one, but it doesn’t manage to make it to his brown eyes. He spreads his legs a little wider so you can stand between them and pulls you close with his hands on your hips. “All done, princess?”

“Yep,” you answer, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. You let a few silent seconds slip by, making way for him to speak his mind. When he doesn’t acknowledge his latent discontent, you settle back on your heels with a sigh. “You gonna tell me what’s bothering you or am I going to have to threaten you again?”

Boba grumbles a huff that sounds a lot like “too observant” and tips forward to bury his face in your tits, pulling you further into him. You allow him a few moments of respite, stroking the back of his neck with light fingers before easing his face up to look at you.

“It’s nothing, really-” he starts, his expression clouded over with false reassurances.

“Don’t try that crap with me,” you cut him off sternly. Then, more gently, you add, “Please Boba, be honest with me. You help me… let me help you.”

“You know I can’t deny you,” he mumbles after a moment, defeat echoing in the back of his throat. He leans forward, and you let him rest his cheek on your chest while he silently composes his thoughts as your fingers resume their patterns on his neck. “Watching you tonight… you are so bright and young and beautiful, and I’m just an old man with a scar for a heart that never quite worked right. You deserve… so much more than what I can give you. Someone who can make their words come out right because you deserve to know how special you are, cyar’ika. Someone who doesn’t have a past like mine, a person without so many sharp edges and broken parts. I’m missing pieces and you deserve someone who’s more… whole.”

There’s true pain in his voice, the agony and strife of a man who has endured and had to bear the cost of that survival on his own, with wounds that never completely healed alongside scars that run so deep they’re etched into his bone and being. If only he knew how beautiful it made him that he never let that secret soft part of him die, you think. That despite what would have been the logical choice for anyone in his position, he chose to tuck his tenderness away for safekeeping rather than letting it wither in reality’s harsh sun.

“Boba, I want you to listen to me and listen to me good.” You take his beautiful face between your palms and trace your thumbs over his cheekbones, mimicking the affectionate gesture he often used with you. This close you can see the dark lashes around his brown eyes and all the torment held within them; it makes you physically ache to know that this man, this perfect, wonderful man doesn’t think he deserves everything good and pure because he’s roughed up and his soul has some dings in it. That it somehow precluded him from deserving the same love he so willingly gives to you despite your own imperfections.

“I love you, Boba Fett, I love every scar on your body, every bruised muscle and broken bone. I love your dark, hidden parts just as much as the ones which see the light. You know why? Because they made you who you are, they made you into the man who makes me feel safe, makes me feel beautiful and happy. You are a man of action and that’s worth far more to me than any string of pretty words ever could be. You are enough and you are mine, and the sooner you accept that, the better.”

By the way his fingers clutch into the plush of your hips, you can tell he desperately wants to believe you, that he wants to reject the jagged demon of doubt buried in his heart like old shrapnel. But Boba casts his eyes down, still unsure.

“Do you trust that I can make my own decisions?” you ask, soft and firm, patient but unrelenting. He nods with a hum of agreement. Closing the gap between you, you rest your forehead against his creased brow, “Then let me make this one,” you whisper, kissing him until your lungs burn for air, and even then you stay on his lips for a few more lingering seconds.

Boba looks into your eyes, staring like you held all the secrets of the universe within them. After a couple of heartbeats, he loops his arms around your waist and pulls you back on top of him on the bed, making you yelp and giggle. Kissing you, he maneuvers the two of you under the blankets. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” he breathes into you, the peaks and valleys of his father’s tongue rippling in your mind like cool water over rounded river stones. “Thank you for that, babygirl. I will try.”

You hadn’t yet asked him what any of the Mando’a words that slipped out of him meant, permitting him his secrets for now. Shifting your hips over his and deepening the kiss, you lick into his mouth as you lazily start to rut into him. Boba has given you a lot just now and you want to see that he’s rewarded for it.

“Little princess,” he chastens when your pace begins to pick up, “it’s late and I’m old.”

“You're not that old,” you nip at his lip, “and I’ll be on top.” You accent your offer with a grind of your hips that has him groaning at the friction between your bodies.

“You're not a very good listener, are you?” he grunts, “Besides, I need you well rested for tomorrow. I'm taking you out on a date.”

You stop dragging your hips over his, pulling back to stare at him. “A date?! You didn't tell me that, I didn’t bring anything to wear!”

“That’s because first, I’m taking you to get some more of those little sundresses you like to tease me with so much, and then I thought we’d go to that poppy farm you showed me on your phone the other day. They have ice cream there and a lemonade stand.”

You squeal in delight, kissing Boba all over his handsome face while he smiles warmly up at you. “You are too good to me, Boba Fett!” you manage between your flurry of pecks. He puts the sun in your chest and in air in your sails, and on top of all that, he’s apparently a secret romantic.

“Princess, I'm just getting started. You mean so much to me and I'm going to do my best to never let you forget it.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you settle into his side, curling into him. “Now get some sleep, cyar’ika, I’ll be at your side, always.”

—Endnotes: I went to a poppy farm the other weekend and it was so effortlessly romantic I knew I had to write some Boba to go with it. (also don’t look at me like that, y’all KNEW this was gonna be a sugar daddy fic eventually lmao)

I've got some stuff coming up so the next posting will be two weeks out instead of one (I'm sorry 😭) but rest assured that I will be posting some extra snippets to make up for it!

MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS

(ner) cyare - (my) beloved, love

cyar’ika - sweetheart, darling, (a diminutive of cyare)

nau’ul be kar’ta - light of my heart

ni kar’tayl gar darasuum - I love you, (lit. "I hold you in my heart forever")

osik - Mando'a curse akin to "shit"

#i honestly do not know how i survived writing this #i think i passed out several times and my fingers just kept typing because 😮‍💨🥴🥵#professor boba owns my entire ass (and p*ssy)#zwei writes #fanfic #ex libris fic #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 #professor boba fett #professor au #star wars fanfiction

107 notes · View notes