#if i can sit my ass down and not spend too much time researching i should be fine

[kaustic]

GOOD LUCK ON YOUR ESSAY I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT 💫💫

tyyyy im doing my best <- took a way longer break than I meant to and also forgot about a quiz I had to take

[jupiter-letters]

Dating Clark Kent would include:

Fem!Reader or GN!Reader TW: None

A/N: Felt like writing for clark lately, I'm down horrifically for this man. This can be for any incarnation of Superman but I based it off the comics and my adventures with superman

It all started with a random encounter at the library while he was researching an old historical site in Metropolis(aka busy work for the new guy). He saw you with a couple of books in your hand, eyes browsing the shelves. 

He worked up the nerve to start a conversation with you and actually managed to get your number. He left the library with butterflies in his stomach and an angry call from Perry asking his whereabouts. 

A good starter date for him was obviously coffee. He spends hours deciding where to meet up with you, trying to find reasonably priced coffee with a good atmosphere. He tries to come up with a bunch of different outfit combinations, making the attempt to look nice but not too dressed up. This proved difficult since his wardrobe is 90% dress shirts and slacks, he’s still gotta look casual. Clark is such an overthinker, he just wants things to go well ; v; 

Of course the date goes well cause he’s so perfectly himself and he charms you so naturally. He’s surprised when you ask to see him again, the whole time he was sweating bullets praying you didn’t notice. After that the second, third, and fourth date all are perfect. Well not perfect but the time spent together makes up for the hiccups. 

Now let’s get into the nitty-gritty: early days of dating Clark still tries to be perfect, he hasn’t become totally comfortable with you, yet ;)  I think for him he wants to wow his partner in the early stages, he feels like trying to get a city slicker like you he has to bring his A-game. 

When he sees you he tries to bring you little trinkets and flowers, he likes to spoil you every now and again. 

Touching! He likes to be touching you when you’re near, a hand on your waist, brushing his pinky against your hand, pressing his knee next to yours when you’re sitting together. His love language is acts of service, words of affirmation and physical touch. He loves doing things for the people close to him. This includes: Taking out your trash, watering your plants, making your bed, putting a pot of coffee on in the morning, and fixing any holes in your clothes. 

Now when you're really in it with him he tells you about the Superman stuff, he feels like he can trust you but there’s still the risk of you knowing that’ll get you hurt. He doesn’t underestimate your autonomy but there are very powerful forces out there that want him gone, and you are very precious to him. 

Once you can convince him that you are willing to accept the risks and tell him how much you care about him, the last of the walls come down. You’re stuck with him forever now and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

When it’s a quiet summer afternoon he’ll take you flying just before sunset, he’ll go right above the clouds so you can see what he gets to see. However if you’re afraid of heights he won’t force you lol. He’ll make sure you’re properly dressed when he takes you to visit the fortress of solitude(He tries is the key phrase). You always underestimate how cold it’ll be and he has to go all the way back to metropolis to get your favorite jacket while you sit by a heater.

 Looking after him when he gets kryptonite poisoning from fighting bitch ass Lex Luthor, seeing him sweat for the first time with dark circles under his eyes. It’s more painful than what he’s feeling at that moment, and he still tries to tell you it’s not that bad. Once he’s feeling better he has to talk you down from murdering Luthor.

“Honey don’t-” “Nuh-uh call Bruce, I want a bazooka.” “You don’t need a bazooka sweetheart, I'm fine.” “No way I’m coming for his bald ass.” “Baby I’m fine, please calm down.”

Of course you’re not serious but you still want to protect him. Nobody messes with Clark and gets away with it. You and his friends will see to that, yes sir!

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Angel | I.N 

-> Pairing: Nephilim!Yang Jeongin x Reader

-> Request: No

-> Synopsis: Y/N's suspicions about her boyfriend being more than just human are confirmed.

-> Warnings: Fallen Angel/human hybrid stuff. Mention of the bible. Poorly written near death experience.

-> Word Count: 671

-> Requests: Open.

I.N Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy, modify and/or repost anywhere.

Y/N walks along the bench seat that’s placed beside the ledge of her apartment buildings roof, her arms stretched out from her sides to help her balance.   

Her boyfriend, Jeongin, watches her nervously. It isn’t like her to be so reckless. He’s moved closer to her, getting himself ready to catch her if her clumsy ass somehow falls. “Can you please get down and come back over to me?”  

“Scared I’m going to fall?” She teases. Y/N has her suspicions about her boyfriend not being fully human.   

Since they met a year ago and started dating not long after, strange things she finds hard to explain have happened. She had small cuts and bruises heal when he touched her. When she’s sick, his hugs cured whatever illness she has. He does things as if he is reading her mind and would disappear at the most random times. Not to mention the feathers that she would find on her balcony. After spending hours researching bird feathers and finding none matching the ones she found, she ends up searching a different species known to have feathery wings. She can’t remember why she started looking up angels but that’s where her search ended up. Everything she learned lead to more suspicions.   

“Yes!” he replies. “Your clumsier than a toddler.”   

She quickly turns to face him but proves his point when she stumbles and falls backwards over the ledge. She screams loudly as she starts to fall the 8 storeys. She closes her eyes tightly, bracing herself for the impact that would surely kill her.   

The impact never comes as a loud whooshing sound surrounds her. She feels the impact of someone catching her and lifting her back onto the roof but she’s too scared to open her eyes. Clinging to the body that’s holding her, she feels the familiar contours of her boyfriend’s body.   

Not knowing what she’s about to see, she hesitantly opens her eyes and the sight before her leaves her breathless. Standing, holding her Jeongin, looking ethereal, a yellow glow surrounds him, large black feathery wings that are almost double his size protrude from his back. His look of panic quickly turns to one of anger.   

“Never do that again,” his voice is thunderous and commanding as he stands her on the roof. All she can do is nod to let him know it’ll never happen again even if the falling part wasn’t intentional. He pulls her in for a tight hug. “I guess I have some explaining to do.”  

“You guess?” she asks pulling away enough to look up at him.  

“Let’s go back to your apartment and I will tell you everything you want to know,” he suggests.  

They make their way back down to her apartment, his wings disappearing as they walk through the door to go back inside.   

“What do you want to know?” he asks as they walk into her apartment.  

Y/N goes straight to the fridge to grab a couple bottles of water. “What are you?” she replies and hands him one of the bottles. “An angel.”  

They both sit down on the couch.   

“In a way,” he replies. “Have you heard of Nephilim?”   

“Like the ones in the bible?” she asks, remembering back the stories she learnt in Sunday School. “They’re said to be the offspring of fallen angels and humans.”  

“My mother was a guardian angel until she met my father,” he tells her. “She gave up being an angel for him.”  

“She must really love him,” Y/N says as she thinks about Jeongin’s parents and how they always seem to be so in love.  

Jeongin nods. “And he really loves her.”  

“So, you’re half angel?” she smiles. “That explains so much.”  

“How so?”  

She smiles lovingly at him. “Why you look so beautifully angelic and ethereal. It’s because you literally are.”  

“You can thank my mom for that.”  

She leans forward and places a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you, angel.”  

He rolls his eyes, smiling. “I love you, too.” 

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[thekissofaphrodite]

Hi mi amor! could you do a luke x reader based off of Light Year by Gregory Alan Isakov

I ADORE THIS!! TYSM FOR REQUESTING!

Light Year

Luke Castellan x Daughter of Athena!Reader

Summary: Toxic relationship with Luke Castellan.

Warnings: Cursing, Toxic relationship, Luke being an Ass, Mentions of a S*x tape. (+ FEMALE RAGE)

Author's note: This was requested, i did a research abt Gregory Alan Isakov's song 'Light year' and it FITS Luke's character as a boyfriend!! (Since it's about a toxic relationship)

__

I woke you up with poetry and stones The ragged and the bones Strewn around the room.

Flashback

"What the actual fuck" You mumbled angrily as you scanned your once organized cabin, now looking like a monster just rummaged through it. Luke was passed out on your bed, his shirt riding up a little bit, His face with unfamiliar kiss marks. Bottles of empty liquor and empty beer cans thrashed around the floor.

After leaving a week or two to visit your mortal father in new york, Instead of being greeted by a clean cabin to sleep in after hours of traveling, You were now kicking every empty beer cans in your way, You adjusted you tote bag that sat on your shoulders heavily, Your hair in a clip, Your eyes with dark circles.

Taking care of your mentally deranged father and his children with another woman wasn't exactly the kind of weekend you wanna spend, But you have no choice after all, It's either your step siblings starve and die or take care of them, and now here you are, With Luke Castellan, A grown teenager treated like a damn baby.

"Luke wake up!" You hissed as you shook the your drunken boyfriend awake, He groaned and mumbled a string of curses before sitting up the headboard. The sunlight passing through your self made daisy patterned curtains.

He looked around and sighed "I thought you'll be back in another week, sorry baby" Luke whispered before leaning in to give you a kiss, But you stepped away, That made the boy roll his eyes, clearly annoyed. He knew what was gonna happen.

"Come here baby, you know i hate that fucking attitude" You scoffed, a silent one before slapping him, Fast and sharp, a red mark appearing on his cheeks.

"You're telling me first which slut you brought here" You gripped his collar, showing himself the kiss marks made by someone, But Luke just chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Just Quincy from Aphrodite, She's a good kisser unlike you, too bad she left early-"

You shut him up with another slap in his cheeks, This time there were tears streaming down your cheeks.

"YOU HAD THE FUCKING AUDACITY TO THROW A PARTY WHILE IM GONE IN MY OWN CABIN WHILE HOOKING UP WITH A GIRL, LUKE, I WORKED YESTERDAY 13 HOURS STRAIGHT WHILE CHANGING MY SIBLING'S DIAPERS! HOW DO YOU THINK I'LL FEEL?! ALL I WANT IS TO REST AFTER AN EXHAUSTING DAY" You screamed, Uncontrollable rage filling you inside.

"It's not that big of a deal, You're being dramatic" Luke said calmly, as if you were a joke to him.

You were shaking in fury, You love him, you really do.

But sometimes..His attitude is insufferable.

"Fine. Where's my paycheck then? I sent it to you yesterday" You asked him, Yet again, The dark haired boy shrugged.

"Spent it all on beers and sodas"

You felt weak, You don't why, but this is just too much.

So you cried.

"All of it? MY 150$ PAYCHECK THAT I WORKED FOR?" Your voice raised higher, but Luke towered over you, underestimating your small frame.

"Yes, You've got a problem? Don't you ever give me that attitude, I'm the one who got you enrolled in that fancy university that you can't stop talking for months baby, Once i sent them that one video tape of you, You're done" He blackmailed you, Luke smirked as he watched your expression changed.

Of course, Your video tape with him..that video was from three years ago when you two were young and naive and decided it's best to film your first time with luke. Not knowing he'll use it against you.

Over and over again.

You cowered a little bit, mentally rolling your eyes before leaving your cabin, slamming the door shut.

__

I recall another hazy May Take a round in the ring Gone hungry for the win

Flashback

"Do you think we'll be soulmates in every other universe?" You whispered, Luke's muscular arms wrapped around your body as he pulled you close making you giggle softly.

"We could have been" He replied, fidgeting the hem of your yellow summer dress with daisy patterns all over. You two just officially became a couple, He couldn't get enough of you, kissing you everytime and holding your hands proudly. You felt loved and safe.

But you didn't answer, instead, You kissed him, pure of love expressing your undying loyalty to him, He found himself kissing back, gripping your waist, holding you closely.

"I love you so much" He whispered.

And you found yourself melting into his touch.

But then your relationship lost all its sparks.

No more kissing each other every morning or holding hands while striding at camp, It was more like arguing every day over little things.

"Stop it! What is wrong with you?!" You screamed as tears poured down your cheeks, You watched Luke smash another vase, the loud sound clattering.

"You are my girlfriend! you will do as you are told! if i saw you with that boy again i swear to the gods- " He yelled, you cried harder, you covered your ears as he begin yelling again, but then, you felt a sharp pain engulfing you, Luke grabbed your hair, almost pulling it out of your scalp, He dragged you outside your cabin before hurling you down your cabin stairs, you fell and you fell onto the fence, your ribcage caught the most of it.

Not even a day later, you sat in the infirmary, with yellow-ish purple bruises all over your body.

"Are you okay, baby?" Luke's sickly sweet voice asked as he caressed your tear stained cheeks, as if tho he wasn't the one who brutality beaten you.

" 'm fine" You mumbled, fidgeting your skirt, Luke then gave you flowers, Fresh daisies from the gardens of demeter's children.

You smelt the fragrance of the flowers, before feeling another tear roll down your eyes.

__

Heres the part I just lose everything I cracked a spark just to hear you sing Sing

Flashback

"Surprise! Happy Anniversary, Baby!" Luke said as he untied the blindfold, You were greeted by a small, romantic picnic near the lake, Luke gripped your shoulder's from behind before pressing a kiss on your neck.

"Don't you like it?" He asked, Caressing your long hair at the process, But no, You didn't liked it. Even tho he had put so much effort in this simple picnic, you never felt sparkes like before.

Swallowing your distaste, You nodded before being dragged on the picnic blanket by luke, your sandal crunching on the fallen leaves and rocks.

__

I took it out The papers and the trash Old among the cans This golden love gone bad

Flashback

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry..." Luke whispered, You didn't listen.

Instead, you continued packing your things, shoving clothes after clothes inside you bag, not caring if your freshly ironed clothes came crumpled.

As he tried to touch you, you pulled away angrily.

"You wanna know something? I would rather prefer my dangerous freedom over this peaceful slavery you had done to me" Your eyes met his, but then, You saw him smirk, and pulled out a digital camera, Your loud, wonton moans echoing as he turned the volume louder.

"Freedom over shame? I thought you knew better, baby" He said, you felt your breathing ragged, your hands trembling as you threw you bag on the floor.

You looked around before snatching the camera and breaking it, But it seems like Luke wasn't bothered.

He clearly did something with your tape.

Sensing that you've known, He smirked and started laughing manically. His dark laughter echoing through the cabin walls.

You lost hope now.

Feeling defeat, you slumped your shoulders and fell, You knelt at his feet gripping it tightly, your fresh hot tears dripping on his feet.

"Please" You whispered, Luke just looked down at you, his gaze seemingly judging you. You sobbed harder, pressing your nose against his feet.

"Luke, not this again, Luke, Please, Please"

"Promises are Promises, Baby" The dark eyes boy said, before leaving you.

__

Shined it up Aiming at the sun Just a light year from us Hop a cab ride and we're off

And all the ravens came along to play The simple notes you sang just went astray

Flashback

"I'll be going"

"Okay"

You stopped.

"Just 'Okay' ?" Luke sighed and slammed the book he was reading just, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Yes, Do you expect me to kiss you? Fucking hell you're just going to visit your family, it's not like you're going abroad for fifteen years" He mumbled and leaned against the headboard of his bed.

You just nodded, tears stinging your eyes, threatening to slip.

"Do you want me to buy you anything? Snacks? or mayb-" He slammed his fist into his bedside table, the sound of his lampshade and coffee mug clattering made you flinch.

"Can you just- please shut your damn mouth?"

"Fine." You stormed away, leaving Luke again.

You two weren't always like this, As you stepped outside the camp barrier, You got a glimpse of the Hermes Cabin once more before leaving.

__

Everything was up, its coming down Everything was up, its coming down Coming down

Flashback

You ran around, Dodging attacks and trying not to trip over dead bodies on your way, You couldn't even believe that Luke did all this, The rise of Kronos. The lightning theif.

When you saw him in the distance, Holding a scythe in hand.

"Luke" You called him, with your sweet melodic voice, He turned around, The first thing you saw was his scowl, Then you felt a sharp pierce on the side of your belly.

You barely saw it, But a Chimera had sting you. you gasped, the pain barely registering before you fell down on the cold ground, The blood had dripped, making a scarlet pool right beside you, as you laid down the cold ground, Luke appeared in front of you, Wearing the same evil smirk.

Your hair was scattered in all directions, You truly looked like an angel, With one last kiss on your forehead, Your eyes went still, and before darkness had engulfed your vision, You heard luke say;

"Sleep well, My dear Y/n"

A/N: I researched about the song Lightwork and did the best i can to match the lyrics and story! But i do hope you guys like this!!!

[eldritch-spouse]

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/745594646225354752/if-i-ran-a-business-in-sloth-id-make-a-type-of?source=share

Hey same anon. so I finally had some time to write this, it's short and it's sfw though so forgive if you wanted something spicy. I tried to make this reader friendly too.

"M-m-madame- Forgive me for bothering you since you're resting right now, but its urgent!" The nervous greed demon stood in front of you looked like he was about to fall apart any second. It's not like him, he's usually calm and collected.

"What is it now, Martin?" I asked with monotone voice. Sitting at my desk, I set aside my drink to save for later. This better be good.

"We have a special guest at the inn, ma'am. A really important guest. And they wish to speak to you."

"Who is it? Tell them my shift is ov-"

"It's the icon of Sloth!" Martin interrupted.

Silence. My eyes widen from what I heard. A royal guest. Here at this small inn of all places. I stood up from my desk and calmy went over to put on my favorite robe. Without saying anything I left my room. Martin followed behind me.

Luckily, it's not busy at this hour at the inn. Some sloth demons with humans they rented passed by. Sometimes other types visit here too. A large buff wrath demon holding a small demon by the scruff of their neck walked towards us.

"Boss, this one tried to kill one of the humans. What do you want me to do with them?" The Wrath demon spoke.

"Your choice, just get rid of them, permanently, Uthin." I just waved my hand and continued walking.

We entered the lobby. I shoo 'ed Martin to return to the front desk. I immediately noticed a huge demon lying down in the waiting area. The air around us smelled sweet, and fragrant. Very strong and soothing. It feels as if you could sleep instantly in one blink. I can feel my energy draining really fast. Any longer my muscles might betray me, and I'll collapse on the floor. That must be the Icon of Sloth.

I approached the Icon. I put on a tired smile as I made a low bow.

"Greetings, your majesty. A thousand pardons for making you wait. Welcome to the Sleep-Inn. How can I help you this evening?"

There was a long silence from the Icon. I can't tell if he's even looking at me with the veil covering his face. My heart was pounding in my chest. Did I say or do something wrong? Maybe if-

"I want to rent you for the night." The icon rumbled in a soft voice.

I just wanted to finish my drink.

------

Notes:

The names I gave to the demons I just pulled out of my ass. Same with the Inn's name.

Hope I didn't make Zizz too ooc. I kinda guess what it'd feel like if you get too close to Zizz.

It's up to others on what happens next. I just wanted to get this short of my chest.

[No, I think you did a fine job with Zizz! 👌 Also, "Sleep-Inn", sleepin'?? Anon your brain is massive.]

Zizz has heard of your little establishment for a decent while before visiting it, most likely. He did his research, and he decided it was worth his time.

Really, you should be flattered for several reasons here- It's rare for King Zizz to personally visit a location instead of ordering people to come to him, so the fact that he showed up in person is already a serious indicator of interest. The fact that he chose you immediately without even sparing the others any mind is also cause for great flattery needless to say.

For all intents and purposes, Zizz is as courteous as an exemplary customer, although he would prefer to bring you to his mansion than remain in your establishment. The King promises you gentle, soothing dreams, his hold of you loving and careful as he sighs his contentment. His veil is lifted, and in the darkness, Zizz places mellowing kisses along your skin. His touch is always slow and prolonged, and while he's very much hard against you, you can deny him sex.

But know that this will repeat itself every single time he rents you. There will come a time where you spend more nights with him than you do with your workers.

Zizz can keep you if he wants. You know this. He knows you do. There'd be nothing and no one to oppose him.

So really, tell him no all you want when his claws flirt with your mons, shift away when his cock presses against the small of your back and turn your lips away from his kisses- You know you'll just end back here again the next night, and your will isn't infinite.

It's certainly not enough to rival Zizz's.

[siblingskissing]

Ronance headcanons?

Ronance Headcanons

I have had the BIGGEST brain rot about these two, you guys don't even know, so please excuse my rambling session in this post. As always- feel free to share your headcanons, opinions, thoughts ideas, just be kind <3

-Robin is the biggest simp to ever exist. Nancy mentions liking a color? Guess who's suddenly adding it all over their wardrobe! A favourite food? She's already learned how to cook it. Allergic to something? Robin will destroy it with her bare hands and make it go extinct to protect her girl.

-Likewise, Nancy would and will kill for Robin (come on Robin tell her to kill for you she wants to)

-Their favourite dates include them sitting in one of their rooms, a movie or music playing as they discuss conspiracy theories or whatever story Nancy is working on

"There's been a ton of missing items from farms in the areas. Animals, tools, bales of hay-"

"could it be aliens?"

"Alie- Robin it's not aliens!"

"What? Interdimensional monsters are real but aliens aren't?"

-Many people assume Nancy would get annoyed by Robins carefree joke centered attitude but actually she calms down whenever Robin tries making jokes.

-She doesn't like when people don't take things seriously, but she knows Robin is taking it serious, but using humour to make sure they don't spiral with the problem

-their relationship definitely started off rocky but with some time, understanding and surprisingly really deep conversations they learn to appreciate the little things about one another.

-Robin loves Nancy's drive and her leadership skills. She makes sure that everyone takes her seriously and if the kids complain about Nancy being a hard ass she brings them back to listen.

"Nancy's not our boss!"

"No, but she's the one keeping you dipshits safe- she knows what she's doing so listen up and quit complaining"

-They kids listen to Robin more and so when she follows Nancy with no complaints, the kids unconsciously follow suit.

-When Nancy gets stressed/aggravated Robin will be there to lend her a shoulder. They're very much leader/Right Hand man coded to me.

-Nancy doesn't know much about queer culture so when she does eventually come out Robin is happy to talk to her about it and share what she knows.

"So we use Blue violets because Sappho used to describe women wearing garlands of them,"

"Sappho?"

"... Do you have a spar 3 hours so I can explain Sappho and Greek poetry to you?"

-They take all kinds of cute little Polaroids that they keep at Robins place

(examples of said Polaroids)

-Robins family is more supportive so often Nancy goes over there to spend the night

-when college comes up in discussions Robin mentions that she enjoyed investigating with Nancy, the research was fun when they didn't have death looming over them.

"Yeah, learning Russian to break the code was awesome- the torture kind of ruined it though-"

"The WHAT?"

-Nancy asks Robin 1000X if Robin is sure she wants to go to the same college/same field and Robin promises her that she isn't only going because of her.

"I'd follow you anywhere, but this is also for me- if I have to do one more customer service job I might kill someone."

-They love movie nights, curled up under a blanket watching whatever film they can find. Robin always finds the oddest ones and sometimes some really deep indie films. Nancy also enjoys the foreign films she can find and let's her choose.

-on nights Nancy chooses- she likes care free fun films. Nothing too heavy because she likes the simplicity

-Theyre a gross matching couple- but in a new fun way.

-Mat hing colors in their respective styles, using each other's clothes and making it go with their personal choices, matching patterns/designs.

-They also shared shoes sometimes

-On the 90s Nancy gets a more "Rachel from friends" style like this

-Robin eats it up like no one is watching and often has to hold back from just kissing her 24/7

(also I badly wanna do a look book of the characters so Please someone ask for that because I love fashion)

I definitely probably have more but here you are!!

[kxlitz]

HIII can you please do bill with a ice hockey player s/o it can be smut if you want p.s: I LOVE YOUR WORK😍❤️❤️

That’s sweet! While I am canadian I don’t know too much about Ice Hockey so I’m basing myself off players in my entourage and research. I’m sincerely sorry if I got something inaccurate in there !!

I’m sorry if this was short by the way!!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

❅ Bill Kaulitz & Ice hockey player ❅

Setting the record straight, Bill is not an athletic person. The most you will get from him are walks and the occasional at home workout. He would rather die than run a mile so he finds it so fascinating that you found passion in a sport.

He sometimes wishes he had the skills to play with you or to simply enjoy sports in general. He likes watching soccer so there’s a chance for him to enjoy other sports for sure!

Is willing to make the effort and learn the rules to understand what goes on better.

He will show up to every match and he means it. If you were to live in a different country he would ask your match schedule and squeeze any important championship into his own busy schedule.

Bill will literally ask you if he can bring the band with him and sing your national anthem.

If he can’t well, he will still stand up and proudly sing your anthem because it’s yours and symbolizes your victory and he loves everything about you.

Will bring his mom to your games too <3

Screams the LOUDEST.

Your number one cheerleader, really.

(2023 Bill would be willing to wear a cheerleader fit even.)

Once the match is over Bill will run down and wait for you besides your coach, with a towel and water bottle at hand.

He will sit around the rink during your practice and make funny faces when you pass by to make you laugh.

It made you bumb against your teammates a couple of times, he’s sorry. But will continue doing it.

Your coach has definitely kicked him out before lmao.

He will always offer you massages if you’re sore after training :)

For some reason he really seems to be someone that gives an amazing back massage.

Oh this man is CRAZY about your muscles.

He melts when he sees your back flexing.

Will come behind you and trail kisses down your spine.

Hand on your thigh. ALL.THE.TIME.

Oh you will definitely catch him staring at your ass.

Likes to be the little spoon so he can be all wrapped up in your strong arms and, especially, your legs :)

₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡ ₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡ ₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡ ₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡ ₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡

••••••••••••••••NSFW AHEAD••••••••••••••••••

It’s a fantasy of his to fuck you in a closet after or during a match.

You just look so cute and flustered. Once your helmet’s off and your hair is all ruffled he can’t help but imagine all the things he’d do to you.

Or that he wants you to do to him.

The second you’re off the rink. Something about how you look all sweaty and tired is such a turn-on.

Would love to fuck you in your gear but it’s kind of unpractical unfortunately :(

The same way that he wants to innocently be wrapped around your arms and legs, he wants you to wrap those thighs around his head as he eats you out. Don’t be afraid to squeeze, he loves it.

He could spend hours on end between your legs, doesn’t care if you’ll be late to practice.

He will be there until you quiver.

Speaking of practice, you bet you’re on for lazy morning sex before practice. Your alarm woke him up at 4:30 in the morning now you have to make it up to him.

Oral fixated Bill is my fav.

PULL. HIS. HAIR.

You will be left with handprints on your hips from how hard he grips you when you ride him.

He is so sensitive.

Runs his hand up your thigh, soft like a feather.

He loves feeling your muscles flex.

I genuinely don’t know how to continue this, his sex habits don’t really change depending on what you do in life. It’s mostly little bonuses that come with your sport <3

[runa-falls]

Ok so I've been playing with Mel's Mafia Jake AI and it got me thinking about what Miguel would be like for some reason??? Dude's half Irish so like, maybe he's a boss in the Irish mob. Maybe he took over for his dad and he kind of hates it (has always hated it) but there's really nothing else for him so what can be do? So he goes about his life, about his business, runs his side of things well. He's lonely at the top but he ignores it, doesn't think anyone else would understand the pressure that's on him...

Until he meets you.

It's some celebration (maybe St. Patrick's Day or something idk) and he sees you across the room/bar/whatever and you lock eyes and have A Moment™️ and he decides he has to talk to you. So he does and you hit it off from the get go. You're smart, witty, funny, sexy...just the whole package. He's basically in love, okay?

Then a boss (maybe a rival heheee 👀) from another city or section (or whatever idk how they divide the city up tbh lmao maybe I should've done more research 😭) comes up and he finds out: you're his wife/girlfriend and it's just like a punch in the gut for him. He's devastated. He's never ever wanted anything anyone else had that he couldn't take...until you. Youre kinda bummed too, you really enjoyed the time you spent with Miguel, and you (honestly) aren't a huge fan of your husband/boyfriend (maybe he's an idiot or just a dick idk).

But you guys keep running into each other, and the feelings between you keep growing, until the tension breaks and you hook up with him at another get together (he takes you against a wall, fast and hard, his hand over your mouth because you're moaning as he pushes inside, the stretch of him divine and he buries his face in your neck, his cock spearing in and out of your wet heat in sloppy, hard thrusts. You're both coming in minutes, his spend dripping out of you and down your legs. The sight is almost enough to make him take you again).

After, you both say it was a mistake, that you can't do this again, it won't end well. But neither of you can help it, sneaking off to meet up in random places so no one catches you (except that one time it happened in your bed 🫢). And and and.... yeah. 🫣

I'M SO. SORRY SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED TODAY

OK FIRST, EVERYONE CHECK OUT THIS FAN ART BY @darkfoxkirin -- the mafia!mig of MY DREAMS

PLS WHITNEY:

Maybe he took over for his dad and he kind of hates it (has always hated it) but there's really nothing else for him so what can be do? -> i could literally imagine him sitting on a throne, bored as fuck like 😒 damn this SUCKS lolll

He's lonely at the top -> PLEASE THIS IS GIVING THE MAN WHO HAS EVERYTHING BUT IT'S STILL NOT ENOUGH -- I NEED HIM AHH

you lock eyes and have A Moment™️ and he decides he has to talk to you. -> the moment™️ KILLS ME LOLL, but YES a love or lust at first sight (spoiler, its both). not only does he need to talk to you, he needs you.

But you guys keep running into each other...-> HEY THIS WHOLE PARAGRAPPH, YOU DIDN'T NEED TO DO ME LIKE THAT 0-0, IM MELTING BRUV -- AND THEY KEEP MEETING 🫠

---

ok so imagine that he's getting pressured to marry someone because as the boss, he's expected to have an heir to keep the business in the family.

he agrees to meet up with some aristocratic women just to get his advisors off his ass. it's not like he's taking them home or anything, he's merely meeting them at one of the clubs he owns or getting some dinner.

of course, during one of these 'dates' he bumps into you and your husband.

looks like he's not the only one trying to keep a low profile during the affair.

even though your two gangs are rivals, your husband politely greets miguel (though anyone within a 5 mile radius can hear the venom that simmers below his words).

"Mr. O'Hara, what a surprise to see you here..." you roll your eyes at the dick measuring contest. men can be so --

"Likewise."

miguel doesn't even look at him, barely even acknowledges his existence with his murmured reply. he's too busy looking at you in your pretty dress and the necklace that sits against your chest. he gave you it a few weeks ago, the last time he could get you alone.

he tries to catch your eye but you're not looking back at him, you're looking at the girl who clings to his arm.

both of you barely register that your husband is still talking, eyes devouring the woman who's clearly confused by the tension in the restaurant.

"...and who is this lovely thing?"

"this? oh, this is m..." damn, he forgot. SHIT, he literally just read her file in the car before picking her up. this may not be a real date, but he's not a dick!

she saves him the embarrassment, "I'm Melissa, nice to meet you." she offers a hand, expecting a handshake, but your husband takes it for a kiss. gross. even melissa look weirded out.

"So you're finally out in the field again?"

miguel looks at you warily, but you've been avoiding his eyes during this whole interaction.

"You could say that."

"Good for you." your husband reaches out and holds your hands in his from across the small round table, "It's about time us bachelors settle down."

miguel's jaw clenches, watching how uncomfortable you are being touched by him. "Sure. Look it was great catching up, but me and Melinda have a table waiting."

[daimyosprincess]

PART V: PREFACE

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

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

—SUMMARY: You make sure Professor Fett knows just how much he means to you.

—WORD COUNT: 8.6k

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, alternate universe, professor!Boba, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is mid-twenties and Boba is late forties), reader described as having enough hair to grab, Dom/sub power dynamics (Dom!Boba and sub!reader), BDSM elements, use of restraints (reader's hands are bound), creampie, lots of pet names, praise kink, dirty talk, choking, use of a vibrator, pussy spanking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, tiniest bit of breeding kink, Daddy kink 🤭, lil bit of angst when Boba has some bad dreams

We've got some new chapter warnings this time, so be sure to mind them. As always, let me know if I missed anything that needs to be tagged! Mando'a translations are at the end.

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: We're back baybee and better than ever! Part V will conclude Volume I of Ex Libris, but fear not: your fav professor/librarian duo will be back for more sexy escapades (and fEeLiNgS) in the future in Volume 2 💚🖤

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

Read on AO3 — Series Masterlist — Taglist

<Part IV — Interlude>

Boba Fett is a man of exquisite extremes: a simple man when it comes to himself, his personal effects minimal but well made, but quite the opposite when it comes to you. After he had a taste of spoiling you rotten on your date to the poppy fields, he couldn’t get enough, no matter how many times you told him he didn’t have to spend any money on you. You so much as glanced at something for too long and you’d find it tucked away somewhere for you to find, wrapped in a ribbon. You didn’t mind, not one bit, but you don’t want him to think that he had to keep doing it to keep you happy—just him by himself is enough to last you till the end of your days.

“Boba, you don’t have to keep doing this, really, I-”

“Princess, what’s the point of all my money sitting in the bank if I can’t spend it how I like?”

“But… I love you without all that.”

“I know you do, cyar’ika, I know. Now that we’ve got that established, let me spoil you like I want to, like you deserve.”

You gave in willingly after that conversation, allowing him to buy you all the little trinkets and sparkly jewelry your heart desired. One of his favorite things to do, you’d found, was to tuck his black credit card in your purse and send you to the mall with Selena, placing a kiss on your forehead and a slap on the ass as you went out the door. In return, you’d put on a little fashion show for him when you returned, ending with you in whatever risque lingerie you purchased for him to rip off and devour you whole. 

You currently have on one of the sets he hadn’t gotten the chance to tear off your body, a blush rose pair of elegant satin and lace that’s delightfully comfortable and smooth against your skin. As you consider your dress choices for the evening ahead, you can feel the way Boba is admiring you from across his bedroom while he’s buttoning up his cream-colored shirt. “Which one do you think,” you ask, turning and holding up the two choices, “the green or the blue one?”

Adjusting his collar down flat with practiced skill, he smirks. “Which one will be easier to get into later tonight?”

Even after all the filth that’s come out of his mouth, his flirting can still make you flush like a schoolgirl. “Boba!”

“What?” he shrugs with a rakish smile, “I’m asking for… research purposes.”

You can’t help but laugh, the man did have a sense of humor when he wanted to. “Well if you bend me over and pull them up, they should be about the same,” you respond, biting your lip and wiggling your eyebrows. You picked these dresses precisely because they provided easy access: what Boba doesn’t yet know is that you have a little surprise that has nothing to do with your dress, and everything to do with him. 

He crosses the room in a few strides and stops in front of you, letting his gaze travel down your body with lush attention before flicking between the two options you held. “Hmm, the green one, I think. Green looks good on you,” he hums, leaning in to press a slow kiss to your lips.

“Looks good on you, too,” you mumble, deepening the kiss. Boba had shown you his father’s armor, now his, that he carefully unpacked and mounted on a stand in his study. The reverence with which he handled each piece was a poignant reminder of the grief buried deep within his ribs and the pride he took in being his father’s son. You felt honored that he trusted you to share that part of himself; even in the short time you’ve known him, it’s readily apparent that he is a private person when it comes to his past. 

When his roughened hands slide down to grab your ass, you reluctantly break the kiss. “We’re gonna be late if you keep that up…”

“Oh, I can make it quick, princess. Promise.” He trails kisses down the thin skin of your throat and kneads the plushness of your ass. “You know I’m a man of my word.”

Stepping back out of his reach, you give him a scolding smile. “I know you are. Now, help me with this thing.” Boba huffs, more as a show rather than actual annoyance, and does as you request, dutifully lacing up the ties of the sage green garment across your back. Once done, he sits in the armchair to put on his shoes while you slip on your jewelry—including the piece you’re going to surprise him with.

As you secure the anklet around your leg, you admire how the interlinking chain twinkles in the light. The jewelry soaks up the heat of your body quickly, sitting heavier and warmer as you imagine what the professor’s reaction will be; you know he has that protective streak in him, that desire to care for and nurture you in a way you suspect he never received himself. That, combined with the claim he so enjoys laying on you, filling you full of him and marking your skin with his mouth, hands, and hips, leaves no doubt in your mind that your little surprise will drive him wonderfully and perfectly insane.

Now that the time has come to set your plot in motion, it takes everything in you to school your giddy expression. Sinking onto the end of the bed, you lean back on your hands and lift your leg to wiggle your foot in his direction so he gets a look up your dress—which he takes, of course. “Can you help me with my shoes, handsome?” you simper, batting your lashes for extra effect.

Boba rolls his eyes, muttering how you’re spoiled rotten as he scoops up your heels and slides on the first one, balancing the ball of your foot on his abdomen. He fastens the straps with deft fingers, then takes the opportunity to press slow kisses up your calf, keeping his deep eyes locked on yours. It’s surprisingly sensual, warmth feathering out from your core and fluttering in your stomach. You bite your lip, enjoying his slow touches and he winks. Fuck, he’s so kriffing hot.

He sets your leg down and braces the other against him, this time trailing his lips down from your thigh to just above the straps of your shoe. Securing the straps, nods at your anklet. “Mmm, what have we here?” 

The gold piece looks even daintier against his thick fingers as he runs them across it.

You tilt your chin up just a bit as you watch his expression through heavy-lidded eyes. “Just a little something that reminded me of you. Thought I would wear it tonight.” Boba adjusts the jewelry around your ankle so he can examine the stylized letters adorning it. The anticipation of him seeing “Daddy’s Girl” dangling off you for anyone to see has restless energy lighting up your nerves.

A second later, Boba gasps, sucking in a sharp, sudden breath and his face snaps up to look at you; you’re as licentious and dusky as an old Hollywood star as you peer back at him. His grip becomes almost unbearably tight, but it feels so good that you hope it leaves a bruise to remember it by. His lips part but no sound comes out, every muscle in his body rigid. Something has come over him, something so visceral it strikes him to the core of his being. 

This you know you’ll remember for the rest of your days, until the end of time even—you know you will. The time you made Boba Fett, the strongest, most unshakeable man you’ve ever met, break. Not crease or fold. Not snap. Break. 

“Say it.” The words fall from his lip hoarse and cracked. A wild energy crackles and grows behind his glossy eyes.

You drag your hands closer to your body to push yourself up higher, and your heart rate picks up. You almost want to make this last forever. “Say… what?” you drawl, blinking at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

One of his hands drops to your thigh, his fingers digging into the pillowy flesh there. A sizzle of air rushes from behind his teeth. “Say it. Say it right now.” 

Heat is radiating off him so hot you can feel it, like a star burning itself into creation. The primal rawness of his desire, its baseness, permeates into your skin and makes his feverish desire become your own. You can’t deny him, not when it feels like his scalding becoming will remake you anew, too.

Blistering heat fills you from the inside out as his eyes bore into you. You lick your lips, savoring the last of the moment before this man shatters your whole world from the inside out in a glorious passion. “I’m… I’m Daddy’s girl.”

Tossing your adorned leg over his shoulder, Boba crashes into you, his lips searing a kiss onto your mouth that’s so hot your mind leaves your body for a few breathless seconds. You’re effectively folded in half by his crushing weight and it makes your muscles scream in the most delicious way. Boba curses into your open mouth as his hips grind what has to be a painfully hard erection into your ass.

“Fuck, ner cyare, tell me that’s what you want, tell me you want me to be-”

“I want you, want you to be my Daddy, Boba, please.” Hands balled in his shirt behind his neck, you gasp your answer with the breath from his lungs. 

A string of coarse curses pour from his mouth. “Gedet’ye, sweet girl, let me have you. Let me show you just how good Daddy can make his babygirl feel.”

He’s a paradox of pleasure, impossibly dominant yet unbearably vulnerable in his need for you in this moment. He can see all of you and you can see all of him; it’s the most intimate thing you’ve ever experienced, a culmination of the trust the two of you had been building between your hearts and in his bed. Hearing him say those words in that voice has you breaking into a million needy pieces, ready for him to put you back together again.

Fuck, how could I say no to that?

Looking directly into his blown out eyes, you give him the permission he needs. “Fuck me.”

You want to sear the sound that he makes at your confirmation into your brain forever. He shifts back, lowering your leg off him to quickly work himself out of his pants. Propped up on your elbows now, you can see how his thick cock is weeping and dripping with need, the velvety skin of his shaft so red it’s almost purple. You curse under your breath, your mouth and your pussy filling with moisture at the sight of him. He pumps himself a few times, a snarl tearing from his chest when you moan from watching.

Grabbing both your ankles, he yanks you down the bed, pushing the hem of your dress over your stomach and hitching your legs over his hips. “Shit, you’ve soaked right through those pretty little panties,” he groans, curling his fingers around the satin material and ripping it clean off your body, the stretch and snap of the fabric making you hiss. A deep moan escapes him at the vision of your glistening womanhood now on full display, and Boba pushes your thighs up to get an even better view.

You feel like you’re in the middle of a supernova, melting into his star; your every thought runs into the next and sensations bleed into one another—you’re totally lost to the pleasure of the moment. Boba bends to lick up a taste of your arousal when the words come rushing out of your mouth. “Fuck me, don’t wait, just fuck me. Split me open on your cock, Daddy, please.” You want to feel the size of him, so much of him that it’s all you can comprehend.

He stiffens, closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths. “Princess,” he grits out, his restraint taking visible effort for the first time, “d-don’t say things like that, not when… you know I have to prep you.”

You don’t care—you want him in you now, forcing himself through your tight walls and making you feel every kriffing inch of his cock. Slotting your hands under your knees, you spread yourself even wider in an open invitation to take what’s rightfully his and only his. “Pleaseeeee, please, sir, it’s all yours, please fuck me, give me your co-”

Boba’s hand slaps across your pussy, tearing a sharp moan from your chest and making you gush. “Enough!” he barks, “You know the rules. Or do you need to be reminded across my knee?”

The lasting sting radiating out from your clit and his imperious tone has your mind scrambling to right itself; you’re so kriffing turned on you can barely think. Apparently you take too long, because Boba’s left hand shoots around your neck and squeezes the thoughts right out of your head. “With behavior like this, I think you do need to be reminded of Daddy’s rules, little brat.” 

Your eyes widen, his absolute authority has you trembling in anticipation. You hang on his every word even as your brain struggles to form a complete thought. 

Boba lightens the pressure around your throat to allow you to speak. “Tell me the rules, and keep those legs open. Number one,” he commands, smacking your pussy, making you yelp.

“Honesty!”

He gives you another slap across your clit. This time you moan, the stinging sensation quickly turning into pleasure. “Number two.”

“Respect!”

After the third strike, he leaves his hand sitting on top of your searing lips. “Number three.” You answer correctly and he rubs his fingers over your clit, sending sparks shooting up your spine. “Four, last rule.” 

Boba fingers begin to rub faster over your slick, swollen clit and you drag your mind to the answer, gasping, “No coming… without… permission!” 

A pleased look settles on his handsome face and he releases your throat to caress your cheek with his knuckles. “That’s my good girl, so smart, did so well for me,” he praises in a tone sweeter than golden honey, “Daddy rewards his princess when she’s good, even more now that she’s his little girl. How do you like that, sweetheart? Come on, talk to me.” His fingers slow to a halt between your open thighs and he eases your legs back down on the bed.

You feel at an immediate loss without his touch, like everything is suddenly too much.

Rule number two, make sure your needs are met. “Can you hold me while we talk? Need to feel you, please.”

Boba’s eyes widen, concern flickering over his features as he scans for any additional discomfort. “Of course, babygirl. Wanna get undressed, too?” he asks, his hands rubbing your thighs to give you a point of contact as you consider his question.

Your unease stops rising enough for you to crack a smile. “We’re really not going to that play, are we?”

Chuckling, he smiles down at you. “No, princess, we are absolutely not.” 

That established, Boba helps undo all the work of getting you into your evening attire—spending extra time kissing down your legs to remove your heels, his fingers playing with the anklet that led to the evening’s fun—and gets out of his. Tucking you into his side, skin to glorious skin, he pulls the covers over the both of you and begins rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. “That better now?”

“Mmm hmm, so much better,” you confirm, burying your face into his warm chest. The rising tension in your own abates and your heartbeat slows back to normal.

“You want to keep going, princess? We can call it a night if you want to.”

You start kissing up his neck in answer, yours hand roaming up the inside of his thigh. “Yes, Daddy, I want to keep going. I wanna keep going until you’re coming dry,” you tease, biting down on his shoulder.

He gives your ass a swat. “Behave.”

“Yes, sir,” you giggle, resting your head back down on him and reigning in your wandering hands.

Boba strokes his thumb over your hip bone and you can tell he’s trying to find the words to say whatever he’s thinking about. After a couple moments, he asks in a low voice, “So you… really want that from me?”

You trace over the tattoos swirling over his pectoral with your fingertip. “Want what?”

“Your anklet… do you really want to be my girl?”

“I am your girl.” You smile to yourself at his sudden sheepishness; you know what he’s trying to ask but you want to hear him say it in that luscious voice of his. Is it selfish? Maybe, but you think you’re entitled to a little fun at his expense every now and again, especially when you’re about to let him fuck you into oblivion.

Boba grumbles at your insistence on being difficult, exhaling a long breath. “I mean, you want me to be… Daddy?”

As cute as it is to see your big bad dominant boyfriend have any doubt about your wish when you’re literally wearing jewelry that says so, the coals of your desire are starting to glow hot and ready in your belly. And he makes it sound even better than it already is with that voice. “Yes, Boba. I want you to be my Daddy,” you smile up at him with a peck to his jaw. The professor is a deeply caring man under the thick armor of his exterior. He craves an outlet for the tenderness the universe never allowed him just as you long for the safety the world so rarely afforded you.   

“Oh babygirl,” he groans, pulling you into lap so you’re straddling him. He cups the back of your head, slotting your lips against his in a passionate kiss. “I’m… you’re… what made you want this?” he gasps into your mouth, his lips never leaving yours.

His growing desperation and the hard length of his cock twitching against your thigh has your hips rocking over his. “Well… when I first saw the anklet… I thought it would be a funny way… to rile you up. So I bought it… with your money of course.”

He chuckles, peppering kisses down your jaw to your neck. “I would hope so, princess.”

You pull him farther into you with a hand on the back of his head. “But the more I thought about it… the more I liked the idea-fuck, just like that.” Boba has taken your pebbled nipples between his fingers and is rolling them just perfectly. “I read some stuff about those kinds of relationships online and it just seemed right. You take such good care of me and I trust you with every bone in my body. And you’re just so… you. Knew it was what I wanted ahh-” He had pinched your nipples, making you keel into him with your back arched. 

He grabs two handfuls of your hips and presses you flush against him, his lips seeking yours once more. When you’re sufficiently breathless, Boba pulls back with a soft smile. “Thank you, princess,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “That kind of trust you have in me, it… it means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you hug him close, breathing in his scent feeling the beat of his heart against your own. Who knew love could be like this? Powerful and sweet; intense, yet soft. Unplanned but perfectly balanced.  

“Now what do you want for your reward, pretty girl?”

It had seemed like a wonderful idea to ask Boba to tie you up and use the new vibrator you’d bought before he fucked you into next week, but now that you’re strung out and openly sobbing after your third orgasm of the night, you’re not sure so sure. Every nerve in your body is raw and burning, and you’re consumed by even the slightest physical sensation, down to Boba’s breath on your damp skin.

“Aww, look at you taking it so well, sweetheart,” he coos proudly, slowly dragging the toy up and down your folds, “You look so good like this, you know that, my pretty girl? I wish I could see you like this all the time. You’re so beautiful.”

All his sugary words only add to the thick haze of overstimulation shrouding your mind; you can’t do anything but whimper and moan as you convulse at the incessant vibrations buzzing on your clit. Even though he’s lowered the power several notches, you’re so kriffing sensitive that you’re crying from the overwhelming sensation of your unabating pleasure. 

“Little princesses should be taken care of, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” he promises, “Gotta make sure you’re nice and sensitive so you can feel every single inch of Daddy’s cock when he’s fucking you.”

His words cause the frayed string of your remaining sanity to snap. You wail at the thought of having him inside and out, rocking through your sopping cunt. “Oh, fuck, oh ffffuuuuck! I’m gonna-I’m-” you choke, desperately trying to get the words to form on your tongue that feels too big for your mouth, “P-please can I come? Wanna-wanna be good but it’s too f-fucking much, please!”

“That’s my good girl, go ahead, go ahead and come for Daddy,” he permits, “I wanna hear you scream.” He pushes the vibrator more firmly against you so no matter how much you shake and squirm you can’t escape its boundless energy.

Too much, too much, feels so good, too much, FUCK! You explode with ragged pleasure, your nerves raked to shreds, the overbearing sensation ripping through your wound-up insides like some sort of demon of desire. 

When Boba removes the toy from your clit it almost makes you scream again, the sudden loss of contact shocking your senses like you’d been dunked in ice-cold water. “Shh shh shh,” he soothes, the tender pride in his voice caressing over your harsh angles, “I’ve got you, that’s a good girl, there you go.” He continues to coo over you, rubbing your overwrought muscles loose from their tensed state. He doesn’t untie you though.

“You did so good for me, little one, I’m so proud of you,” he praises, ”coming four times for me. That’s a new record, isn’t it, sweetheart?” Parting your lower lips, he brushes his fingers through the unbelievable amount of wetness there. You shudder and whimper as you press your thighs together in an attempt to stop the agonizing friction of his fingers against your aching clit. Boba tsks, slapping his free hand down on the meat of your thigh, making you squeal and jump at the stinging strike. “Ah ah ah, you don’t decide when you’re done, princess, you don’t get that choice. Only I decide when you’ve had enough.”

“B-but it’s s-so m-much,” you sniffle, fresh tears sliding down your cheeks as you pull against the restraints that have your hands fastened to the headboard—the only thing tethering you to this universe.

He rubs his large, warm hands up and down your ribcage in slow strokes. “Aww, I know, pretty baby, but you want to be good for Daddy, don’t you?” Dipping down, Boba plants soft kisses up the valley of your breasts and neck and over your chin, finally landing on your quivering lips. You bob your head, a broken hum from your throat confirming your sentiment. “That’s my girl, my sweet little angel. Now open up those legs nice and wide for me, let me see that pretty pussy.”

With another sniffle, you crack your legs apart against your body’s instincts, feeling so exposed yet totally safe with him. You know down to the depths of your soul that he would only ever care for you. That in his bed, you’re perfect, adored, and safe, you’re the center of his universe. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you if you asked and no amount of pleasure he wouldn’t bring you.

Humming in enjoyment of what his work wrought, Boba shifts down the bed to layer wet kisses over the expanse of your slicked thighs and puffy folds. He stops to lick and suck your arousal up with his tongue while he mumbles about how delicious you taste just for him. The fog of your orgasms clears just enough for desire to start to spark again between your thighs at his wet tongue and salacious praise.

You want him inside you, no, need him inside you, painting your insides with his mark and sweating curses into your skin. You crave the way he’s stripped bare by your body and the pleasure it brings him, those precious few moments where he can shed the weight of his pain and be lost in you. “Daddy, please, want you inside me, want you to fuck me,” you whine, arching up with an offer of your body, “Wanna make you feel good, too.”

Boba groans at your request, his dark eyes fluttering shut as he bites down into your thigh. “You’re so good to me, cyare, so, so good to me…” He rests his forehead on your soft belly for a moment, looping his arms around you and holding you close for a handful of heartbeats. He then slides up your body to release you from your bindings. “Let Daddy hear you beg for his cock one more time, pretty baby. Let me hear it one more time and give you just what you want, just what you need.”

You do as you’re told, pleading and simpering while you watch how Boba begins to crack under his desire, his arousal glowing through his fissures like magma beneath a volcano. Maker, how you want to feel the tectonic power of him, the unforgiving slate of his hips and the obsidian points of his lust-blown eyes, to drown in his primordial pleasure. Digging your nails into his back you tell him so, panting your desires into his ear until he finally erupts. 

Snarling, he tosses your legs over his shoulders and buries himself into you in one smooth, frictionless motion. He sets a harried pace that has your anklet swinging right next to his face with every thrust of his powerful hips. And true to his word, you can feel every single goddamn inch of him pounding into you; you swear you can see the brink of ecstasy’s insanity on the horizon, brought closer by every ridge and vein of his thick cock sliding in and out of you.

Boba’s fucking you straight through the mattress, pinning you underneath his massive bulk and forcing the air from your lungs with every stroke—it’s almost violent and you fucking love it. Seeing him lose control, burn through his restraint, has you clenching around his length as it pumps inside of you.

 “Fuck, princess, baby, I’m not going to last long,” he growls, pressing his lips into you calf, “You’re so karking hot and wet and tight. I’ll never get tired of-shit-of fucking this perfect cunt.” His fierce pace of his snapping hips begins to falter and you know he’s close, your swollen walls sucking him into your velvet heat over and over as your own mind begins to dissolve. 

You feel too hot for your own skin in the best possible way. Boba’s a wreck and it’s making you insane. “D-don’t,” you plead, ragged and fucked out, “j-just come in me, please.” The wet sound of skin slapping and his dick shucking into your soaked pussy is all you can hear.

“N-no, want you to… fuck, I want you to come too, you’re so perfect… so fucking good to me, I want you t-to come with me-”

“Daddy, please,” you whimper, what’s left of your mind knowing it would shatter the remainder of his restraint, “Oh, please, Daddy! Daddy please come inside me, I want you so bad. Want to ache and feel you dripping out me all fucking night!”

Boba makes a primal sound that has to be both a curse and prayer, his face contorting in the shape of pure pleasure as his muscles ripple and lock, his hot release pumping into your insides with a sweet heat. He bites into your ankle, just below where your jewelry hangs and his fingers carve bruises into your soft flesh. 

You’re marked with him in every conceivable way—the thought of truly being his inside and out has another orgasm slamming into your chest, knocking the breath from your lungs as you cry out in unexpected ecstasy. You can feel his spend spilling out around his cock as he continues fucking into you. It ratchets you even higher, making your pleasure feel like an epoch of its own, unending and rapturous as it burns you alive. “F-fuck, Boba, I can’t stop-I can’t stop coming!”

“D-don’t you dare stop, don’t you fucking dare… ner mesh’la cyare you feel so karking good I’m going to lose my fucking mind…” Boba’s rough rasp is utterly wrecked and only prolongs your pleasure; so long you’re afraid you won’t be able to make your mind fit back in your body it’s so full of him.

His hips don’t stop rutting into you as his head drops to your shoulder, moving on their own accord. You shiver and moan into one another as the pulsing waves of overstimulation wash though you. “C-can’t s-stop, babygirl, can’t stop. You feel s-so good,” he pants in a thin, strained voice, his hands running over every piece of you that they can.

In your blissed out existence, your only marker for the passage of time is the feeling of his length beginning to swell and harden inside you, the erotic sensation making your fluttering hole clench tight around him. He groans and starts rubbing your clit with shaking fingers and you contort with the overwhelming pleasure, pulling his hardened cock even deeper into your ruined cunt. Boba begins to push deeper and faster inside you, the very idea of him fucking you again making you throb around him. You know you’re too far gone to come again, but you want nothing more in the whole galaxy than to feel him fill you up when he’s already dripping out of your pussy.

Weakly moving your hips to match his thrusts, you mewl into his ear, intent on giving him all the pretty sounds you can to push him over the edge. You could break him like this, but all you want to do is heal him in whatever way you can, to give him everything he has given you. So when you get your next idea, you don't think twice about it: slinging your arm around his neck, you beg him to fuck you like he’s gonna be a real daddy, beg him to fuck his load so deep that it takes. 

A groan rips out of his chest like his spirit is tearing free and he snaps his hips so far into you he might have ended up in your guts if he hadn’t knocked into your cervix first. The sharp pain doesn’t even matter, intense and harsh as it is, because Boba is fucking coming. Inside. You. Again. The wet sound of him pounding a second load of his seed into you to the point of overstimulation for both of you is sin itself, nearly drowning out the sound of his ragged curses, your broken moans, and both your haggard breathing.  

When he finally collapses on top of you heaving and sweat-slicked, you’re smiling, your face soaked with the tears running down your cheeks and temples from the intensity of the night’s pleasure. Eventually, he pulls you on top of him, careful to slot your legs between his own instead of straddling his hips so you’re comfortable. He kisses the tears from your lashes and whispers how kriffing naughty and dirty you are for begging him to knock you up; you just giggle and praise the Maker for birth control.

After a quick shower that’s more or less the two of you wrapped in one another under the hot water, you’re curled into him under crisp sheets with him just as the sun finishes setting, painting the walls in carmine light. You’re both out before the moon even rises.

The next day you’re sore, incredibly sore, as in every-damn-step-you-take sore. You don’t mind, not really, not when the previous night’s pleasure and its reminder make you dizzy to think about. You do, however, milk it for all it’s worth, insisting that your handsome professor baby and coddle you to the point of ridiculousness. Your plans for a day out quickly turn into a day in, snuggled under blankets with him and take-out food. 

Boba himself is utterly infatuated by you and the entire situation, the pride of fucking you so deep and good that you nest the next day—in addition to setting his own personal record in recovery time—mixed with the almost bashful remorse of causing you a lasting discomfort. You don’t think there’s been a second where he wasn’t massaging or rubbing out some muscle in your body the entire day. Maybe heaven really is a place on earth.

No one calls at 1:27 in the morning unless there’s a problem. Ragged anxiety scratches down your nerves, pricking your skin and pumping awful heat into your blood. Boba’s name stares up at you from your phone screen as it continues to ring, its light too harsh for your sleep-adjusted eyes. Forcing a path through your thorny dread, you yank your phone off its charger and drag your finger across the screen to answer the call. “B-boba? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You don’t mean for your voice to come out as distressed as it does. But no one calls at 1:27 unless there’s a problem.

The familiar deep voice of your professor on the other end attempts to assure you. “Easy, princess. Everything’s alright.” There’s a long pause that keeps your heart from settling back down from your throat to its place in your chest. “I’m sorry to wake you, I just… I needed to hear your voice.”

  The uncharacteristic hesitancy and tightness in his tone makes your stomach churn; things are definitely not alright. Spiked adrenaline starts to flood your system, making sweat bead across your skin as you stumble out of the bed towards your closet to find real clothes. I have to be ready to help him, go to him. “Boba, baby, tell me what’s wrong,” you coax, yanking a hoodie on while you consciously attempt to keep him from clamming up, even as your own anxiety claws up your ribs.

There’s a couple breath’s worth of leaden silence that is far too heavy for the few seconds it lasts. “I-I shouldn’t have bothered you so late, princess, I’m sorry…” He sounds ragged, like he’s still trying to catch his breath after losing it.

“No, no, it’s okay.” You’re doing your best to keep your voice calm despite the fact every alarm bell in your head is screaming at full volume. “Just tell me what’s wrong, Boba, tell me, baby.” You’ve never called him that before—baby—but it feels right, feels soft and comforting in this moment. You might not know what’s wrong, but you do know he needs comfort.

A heavy sigh crackles through your phone speaker; you can almost imagine how Boba’s brows are furrowed together, his handsome face creased in a stormy expression as he searches his depths for the right words to say. You know you have to be patient, give him the time he needs, but you’re so anxious you’re pacing the distance between your bed and closet, chewing your lip.

When he finally speaks again it’s like it’s been ages since you last heard his voice, its sound like a balm on your mind. “The dreams are back, and I don’t always sleep well… you always make it better, I just needed to hear your voice, know that you’re safe.” The torment in his beautiful voice is like a vice around your heart; it makes you ache all the way down to the dust in your bones at the prospect of him suffering so greatly. You know he has his demons, the ghosts of his past that you sometimes catch flashes of like haints in the mirror of his eyes. He hadn’t yet acknowledged them and you haven’t pressed, aware that he needs a wide berth around his inner self. 

But now? He’s reaching out a hand and you’re going to do everything in power to pull him from the rapids roiling inside him. “I’m safe, baby, I’m okay,” you soothe, chucking your phone between your face and shoulder so you can pull on a pair of leggings, “Tell me what you need.”

“I’m fine now, cyar’ika, really. I’m sorry for waking you up, just get some rest for me, babygirl.” Boba’s voice is beginning to steel over and you can tell he’s closing in around himself.

I can’t help him if I don’t know what’s wrong. You have to take a firmer approach.

“Oh, no you don’t!” you declare sternly, planting a hand on your hip even though he can’t see you, “No one calls at 1:30 in the morning if everything’s ‘fine.’ I’m coming over. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” You’re wide awake and your body is itching for action: you can’t rest knowing the man you love is in so much pain he actually allowed it to be seen.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls, “I don’t want you on the roads at this hour.”

You already have your purse in hand. “Then you better start talking, or I’ll be knocking on your door.” You shake your keys loudly so he can hear—sometimes you have to threaten the man for his own good. 

He groans and falls silent and you can tell he’s reached his limit for words—you have to tread very carefully to keep him from shutting down completely. He needs action, touch, something physical to soothe his soul, immaterial words did very little for him. “Hey,” you try gently, your voice softening, “Why don’t you come over here. You always sleep better with me, yeah? And that way you can make sure I stay put.” 

After a moment of consideration, Boba grunts out an affirmative. “I do sleep better with you…”

“Then get over here,” you urge, “the light’s on.”

“I’ve already disturbed you enough, little one, it’s-”

“Boba Fett, since when have I ever passed up the chance to have you in my bed?” you interrupt. The nerve of this man, I swear. 

Your exasperated question garners you a weary chuckle from the professor. “I’ll give you that, princess.” He sighs and you can hear that he runs a hand over his face. “Are you sure it won’t be too much trouble?”

Your heart clenches at the genuine concern in his voice. If only he would care for his own wellbeing as much as he does for mine. “It will be the exact opposite of trouble,” you promise, “I sleep better with you, too.” It’s the truth, his solid warmth next to permitted you a sleep you didn’t even know people could get.

Boba finally acquiesces at your assurances and says he’ll be over as soon as he packs some clothes. Satisfied, you flick on a lamp and wrap yourself in a blanket on your couch to wait for him. Now that relief is starting to cool off your shock, your eyelids begin to droop at the late hour. You’re determined to stay awake until he arrives, however; you open one of the games on your phone and half-play it until a message notification pings with Boba letting you know he’s pulled up. A minute later, there’s a knock on your door and you pick up your blanketed self to let him in.

You’re greeted with the sight of your boyfriend in gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt that fits snug across his broad chest. As good as he looks though, it’s all overshadowed by the slump in his proud shoulders, the darkness shadowed under his deep eyes, and the weariness creased in his face. He manages a tired smile when he sees you. “Hey, princess.”

Relief rolls through you when you see him whole and breathing on your doorstep. Wrapping your arms around his thick frame, you just hold him close for a moment. He sags just the slightest bit under your touch, leaning into you and inhaling in your scent. You would carry the weight of a mountain for him if it meant he could find some solace in your arms. “Let’s get you to bed, professor,” you whisper with a chaste kiss on his lips.

Whether it’s the dark hour of night or the promise of your body beside him, Boba is pliant, allowing you to pull him over the threshold and down the hall into your bedroom. You take his shirt for the next day and hang it up and stow his bag away for the morning. He’s practically carved from stone the way he stiffly stands, his only movement coming from his fists clenching and uncurling at his sides as he watches you with a fraught, lost expression.  

Catching the tumult in his eyes, you reach out and snag his hand, pulling him down to the bed beside you. You can see the tension held in his shoulders and corded in his neck, the amount of vulnerability he’s allowing beginning to take its toll. You don’t overwhelm him with words, you just quietly pull the blankets over his body and him into your chest. For being built like a brick wall, Boba is surprisingly pliable underneath your hands as you guide his head under your chin. His arms wrap around you after a moment, tightly pressing him to you as if you are the only thing keeping his head above the water. 

You find yourself humming some nonsense tune you remember from your childhood as you stroke over the back of his head and neck with gentle fingers. One by one, you feel his muscles start to relax where he’s pressed against the line of your body; his breathing slows and evens and his strong heartbeat thumps easier against your chest. You don’t know how long you stay like this, in the warm and peaceful dark, and it doesn’t matter. This is a turning point, a moment of revelation in your relationship with the Mandalorian professor, that happens in silence. Words are unnecessary when the understanding itself is so palpable. 

You are not alone Boba Fett, you care for me and I care for you. Your strength is commendable, impossible even, but that is not what binds me to you. No, it is your heart, that thing you claim is just a scarred-over place between your ribs. I will hold it close to mine, protect it in my own chest as you clear the past out of the spot where yours belongs. There is no rush, no time too long for me, my love. You are mine and I am yours.

You aren’t sure if Boba is even still awake until you feel his lips move against your collarbone in a hushed tone. “I love you.”

It’s a whisper of a thing, wrapped in the safety of the night between the warmth of your bodies—he hadn’t said those words since that first night you were together. You never needed him to, although it’s music to your ears, when his actions spoke far louder than his words.

“I know,” you sigh, brushing your lips over his scarred skin, “I love you, too. All of you.” 

His admission and your affirmation seem to unhook the last of the pain from his chest and he settles into your body, content to melt back into your shared slumber. Looking at him before you shut your eyes, you wonder if the sun ever gets to appreciate its own light and warmth, or if it’s doomed to the cold vacuum of space without ever knowing the life it gives.

It might have been all a dream were it not for the gentle hand caressing your cheek the next morning, waking you to the world of the living. Haloed by the sun beginning to peek through your windows is the man you held in arms through his storm, radiant and beautiful as ever as he rumbles out your name. “Time to wake up, cyar’ika.”

He truly is a sight he is to behold as the morning sun lights up his brown eyes like warm honey and skates across his bronze skin… Maker, you wouldn’t mind waking up like this everyday. “‘Morning,” you mumble back, smiling sleepily up at him as you rub the haze from your eyes. The aroma of fresh bread and savory cheese wafts golden and delightful under your nose. “What smells so good?”

“Breakfast, of course.” Boba flashes you a smile that might as well be liquid sunlight with the way it beams and he reaches down to retrieve a box loaded with pastries from the Cuban bakery down the street. Squealing with happy surprise, you nearly crush the box between your bodies and you lurch forward to throw your arms around his neck. “Careful, princess,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss onto your cheek, “Got some coffee, too.”

You accept the travel up he presses into your hand and the strong smell of the island roast floods your senses. Savoring the first sip, you make a sound of delight at the rich flavor. “How’d you know how I like my coffee?” you tease.

He smirks at you. “You informed me quite early on exactly how you like your coffee.”

“Yeah,” you giggle, “it’s just how I like my men.” When Boba cocks a brow, you grin with the joke on your lips. “Strong, sweet, and full of cream.”

Boba groans at your words, shaking his head with chagrin written across his face. “What am I going to do with you, my little princess?”

Checking the time on your phone, you pat the spot next to you. “Well, you can come back to bed and eat these with me. We have time.”

He obliges you, slipping back under the covers and letting you snuggle up against him as the pair of you tuck into the delicious pastries. After you both have had your fill of the savory danishes, Boba moves to get out of the bed to start getting ready for the work day ahead.

“Wait,” you call out to him. He stops, turning back to face you and tilting his head as he waits for you to speak. “I need you to promise me something.” 

You know he needs things said plainly. You can’t assume he understands you’ll care for him just as he cares for you, that he’ll acknowledge his feelings and let you be the support he needs when everything comes crashing down.

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “Name it, princess.”

You take his face gently between your palms, pulling him back close. Brushing your thumbs over his lips, you search his deep brown eyes. “I know last night was not a one-time occurance. You don’t have to tell me everything or even anything, really, but I do need you to reach out when you’re hurting. You don’t have to face your pain alone. Not anymore.”

His expression clouds over, his walls threatening to go up. “Sweetheart, it’s fi-”

“If you say ‘it’s fine’ I won’t let you near my pussy until after the school year ends.” Boba groans and clicks his jaw shut. “Imagine if I didn’t let you take care of me when I’m hurting or if I didn’t let you help me when I needed it.” Seeing his displeasure with the thought, you continue, “That’s what it’s like for me when you bottle everything up and pretend it’s all ‘fine.’ I need you to promise you’ll tell me when you need help. We don’t have to talk, you don’t have to explain yourself, just tell me what you need in the moment.”

For the first time in your life since you’ve known him, Boba Fett looks afraid. As painful and wrong as it feels, you’re immeasurably grateful that he’s allowing you in to help. “What if… I don’t know what that is,” he finally croaks, unable to meet your eyes.

It breaks your heart to see him like this, so lost in his own mind that he can’t see a way out. “Then just tell me that, my love, and we’ll figure it out together. You’re not alone, Boba. Not now and not every again,” you murmur, brushing a kiss on his lips. You give your words time to sink down through the depths of him, past all his doubts and uncertainty to settle into his heart. “Can you promise me that?”

The rise and fall of his chest is his only movement as he mulls over your words—shifting one’s universe takes time. Eventually, Boba lays his hand over yours and turns his face to the side to press a kiss into your palm. “For you, ner kar’ta, I will try.”

“And that’s all I’ll ever ask of you,” you promise.

The morning eventually carries on, both of you going about your routines in pleasant harmony. Boba takes great joy in picking just what bra and panties you’ll wear for the day when you ask him to, and even greater joy in putting them on you. You yourself quite enjoy buttoning up his crisp blue shirt across his wide chest, especially when he lifts you on your dresser as he kisses the breath from your lungs. You don’t know if it’s the new layer of your relationship or the air of domesticity surrounding the morning, but you swear you���ve never been more in love with Boba than you are right now.

“We’re gonna be late, professor,” you gasp as he kisses down the column of your neck.

“Mmm, they won’t miss us…” he rumbles, grabbing the meat of your ass and pulling you to the edge of the dresser so you can wrap your legs around his torso, “My first class isn’t until ten o’clock.”

Biting down hard on your lip in an attempt to focus your restraint, you shoot back, “Yes, but my first meeting is at 9:30 and I need to answer emails first.”

Grumbling, Boba shakes his head. “Tsk tsk tsk, when did you get so responsible?”

“When you started calling me your good girl,” you answer with a cheeky grin, “Gotta live up to my name.”

“Oh now she wants to be good,” he chuffs, leaning back to look at you with a smile turning up his mouth.

You nip at his plush bottom lip, wiggling in his embrace. “I’m your babygirl, your sweet little angel, remember?”

He snorts. “When you want to be.” Running a hand down your leg, he pulls your knee over his hip so he can feel that your anklet is on. “Still Daddy’s girl?”

Linking your arms around his neck you pull him flush with your chest, you ghost your lips over his. He is yours and you are his, forever.

“Always.”

MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS

(ner) cyare - (my) beloved, love

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

gedet’ye - please

(ner) kar'ta - (my) heart

osik - Mando'a curse akin to "shit"

<Part IV — Interlude>

[fandxmslxt69]

Personally I think Jake Lockley would drive me to and from the mosque at 7am in the morning for Eid prayers in his fancy ass limo simply because "it's a big holiday, carino, you have to show up in style."

I also know he'd take eid shopping VERY VERY SERIOUSLY and get all his research done with a full plan to just spend the day out together, trying on shit tons of clothes, giving "professional" opinions (He has no idea what he's talking about, Marc thinks he's dumb and Steven just says every outfit looks great. Not helpful!!), and just being....cute <333333

ahhhhh constantly thinking about him in my silly parallel world i cant and wont shut up about him

I ALSO personally believe they'd be the kind of cutie pie who'd spend 90% of Ramadan at home with you, because its a Big Deal and also, he enjoys the peacefulness. Marc likes spending the later evening with you, cleaning up dishes and staying up late to just chat and watch TV- he'd also be very strict on making sure to wake you up before sunrise with a decent meal ready. Steven enjoys the tranquillity of the day, it's lazy a lot of the times. You don't go to work- its meant to be a month for yourself, he sits with you when you're going through your prayers or daily reading- HAPPILY walks to the mosque and back with you when you find the time to go pray there. Jake's more there during the meal prep. He's got grocery lists down and done for each day, he'd be damned if he makes you wait too long after sunset to eat. He makes sure the food is always something you'll love but also obviously healthy!! He looooves spending the last few hours of the day with you in the kitchen making iftar and preparing everything!!!

Can. You. Tell. I'm. Not. Normal. About. Them.

This went from Jake to all three but I literally can not stop thinking about it. Even though they literally do not have to, they try to keep their violent nightly activities to a minimum during the month. They absolutely DO NOT have to but the idea of tainting this sacred month by coming home with so much blood on their hands- not something they like the sound of. Also MORE than happy to put off things like alcohol or sex during the month- sex so you can focus on the more important parts of this time, and alcohol because again they dont like the idea of "tainting" the holiday.

i need to be locked away right now.

[fandomsnstuff]

Design - verb - do or plan something with a specific purpose or intention in mind

Just keep that in mind for the big 2-0 k thanks

@taznovembercelebration

Day 20: design

If Taako sentenced himself to going to Lup's hockey games, the least he could do for himself is talk to the hot guy that's there.

Read it on AO3

The unfortunate thing about being the world's best brother, is that whenever his sister pulls out the elongated “pleaaaaaaaaase?” Taako just can't say no. Which is how he found himself sentenced to spending at least an hour every Sunday in a room full of ice for the foreseeable future. Why Lup had to get into hockey of all things, he'll never understand. But she asked him to come, because she wants somebody in the stands, and Barry's schedule changed recently, so now, a month into the season, Taako's gotta do it. At least he's allowed to leave immediately after the game.

He walks into the arena and inhales sharply. “Jesus fucking christ.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. It's illegally cold in here. He knew Lup was full of shit when she said ice rinks “aren't that bad.”

He scans the pathetically sparse stands. Not a ton of people willing to come out to low-tier women's hockey at noon on a Sunday. There is, however, someone who catches his eye.

Sitting in the back row is tall, dark, and handsome personified. He's wearing a black wool trench coat and leather gloves, one of which he's pulled off as he scrolls on his phone. Taako casually beelines for him.

“This seat taken?”

The man of Taako's dreams looks up, surprise on his handsome face. “No!” He says a little too quickly and a little too loudly. He clears his throat. “No, please, it's all yours.”

“Sweet.” He plops down the dumb little cushion Barry gave him and sits. “So,” he crosses his legs and props his head up on his hand, “come here often?”

He puts his phone away and pulls his glove back on. “Every week. I come to watch my mother play.”

Taako quirks an eyebrow. “No offence, but. Why? You're a grown ass man. Don't you have literally anything else you could be doing?”

He laughs awkwardly. “Honestly? No. I pretty much just eat, sleep, and work. This gets me out of the house.” He seems to suddenly remember he's also talking to someone who's voluntarily come here to watch the exact same game. “Why are you here, If you have something better to do?”

He shrugs. “My sister asked me, and I'd be hard pressed to say no.” He straightens up and holds out his hand, “Taako.”

He takes it, “Kravitz.”

“Charmed.” The gloves feel like expensive leather. “So, Kravitz, explain something to me.”

“Sure?”

“What's up with the box on wheels?” He gestures to the ice, where said box on wheels is just driving off the ice.

Kravitz laughs, “the zamboni? It floods the ice, so it's smooth for whoever's coming on next.”

“That thing can fully reset the surface in, what, five minutes?”

“Pretty much, unless there's a pretty nasty gouge in it.”

“Wild.” The teams come out on the ice and start skating in circles around each half, split up by a foot-wide red line down the center. Taako leans over, “which one is yours?”

Kravitz laughs again. “My mom's lucky number 13 on the black team. You?”

“Well hey, Lup's 18 on that team.”

Realisation dawns on his face. “Oh, you're Lup's brother?”

Taako looks at him quizzically. “Took you that long? We have the same face.”

He gets sheepish, “I've maybe only actually seen her a few times, but I usually sit with Barry, so…”

“Well Barold's tied up on Sundays in academic hell for the next little while, so you're stuck with me.”

Kravitz's brow furrows, “I don't remember him saying anything about that?”

“Don't feel bad, I hardly remember a thing he says too.”

“No, it's just– he didn't say why he wasn't coming this week, but he loves talking about his research, so I would assume if it was because of that, he'd say something? He just told me he wasn't coming, and you were, and that–” he cuts himself off and clears his throat. “Yeah, weird, I dunno.”

“No, no. Finish that sentence. What did my dear brother in law say about me?”

“He just said that… he thought we would get along? And I'm self aware enough to know I'm not super socially adept, but he had a tone that I think he was insinuating… something?”

Taako hums, and looks Kravitz up and down. He looks out to the ice and sees number 18 standing with number 13. Lup holds out a gloved hand and does a “thumbs up? Thumbs down?” gesture. Taako ignores her and presses closer to Kravitz. For warmth. “I don't know much about hockey, so you'll have to teach me.”

Kravitz is silent for a moment, processing the sudden change of subject. “I'm sure I can handle that.”

The game starts shortly, and Taako gets far more into it than he expected.

“What the hell was that whistle for?!”

“They were offside,” Kravitz points to the ice, “the puck has to cross the blue line into the other team's end before any of our players can, and vice versa. Then if the puck leaves their end and comes back in, we have to get out past the blue line as fast as possible.”

Taako crosses his arms and slumps back. “That's bullshit.”

“You didn't seem to mind when it helped us out five minutes ago.”

He glares at him, and Kravitz laughs. Play resumes for a good few minutes, then the whistle blows again for apparently no reason. Taako barely has time to inhale before Kravitz says, “it's because they iced the puck.”

“Now you know I don't know what–” he scoffs, incredulous, “why the fuck are they starting in our end?!”

“Because they iced it. Someone from our team shot the puck from our side of the red line, and it went all the way down the ice and passed the goal line at the other end, and no one got close enough to keep the puck in play before it got there. So they bring it back to our end to start again.”

“Maybe the other team should just be faster and stop that then.”

“But they want to be in our end, so an icing helps them out.”

“I don't like this icing. I prefer buttercream.”

Kravitz's laugh practically echoes around the arena.

The game ends. A victory for Lup's team despite all of the, in Taako's eyes, stupid rules. Kravitz is getting up to leave and Taako says, “hey, Krav. Can I borrow your phone?”

“Uh, sure,” he hands it over, “here.”

Taako takes it and adds himself as a contact, then texts himself, “can I take you to dinner?” He turns it off and hands it back to Kravitz. “Thanks. I'll see you later.”

He leaves, and once he's out in the parking lot, he takes his own phone and responds to the text he sent himself, “sure thing, handsome. Mind if I pick?”

He gets in his car and his phone pings with two texts.

One is from Kravitz: “Absolutely you can pick, just let me know when and were. As we've established, my social calendar is wide open.”

The second is from Lup: “You're welcome.”

[dragonsampersanddragons]

One thing I don't really hear people talk about is how having your special interest as the basis of your job changes it.

it's still my sp int. I still love it. i still can spend hours going down a rabbit hole to learn new details about it. but now. now I *have* to do that. my pay depends on how well i can learn about, whether i'll have a stable job with a good salary ten years from now depends on how much I can impress other people with how good i am with it. now it is Work.

some days i have to force myself to sit down and Do Work. the Work in question is researching my sp int. but ive spent the past week working my ass off trying to figure out this concept and i have a deadline coming up and im stressed and i want to relax. but i have to do the Big Scary Task. I sit in bed scrolling tumblr telling myself i need to get up. i need to go do work. i need to go sit down at my desk and pull out my papers and spend several hours engaging with my sp int because i have a big assessment coming up and I need to be *ready*, but instead i sit there in bed, scrolling through tumblr.

and. i still love it. it is my sp int. but its not carefree anymore. it isnt relaxing the way it used to be. i worry if im good enough. i have to be careful not to get burnout - get burnout from doing my special interest.

my other big sp int, dragons, isn't like that. that one is still much the same as it always have been. i can go look at art of dragons, go read stories about dragons, go daydream about possible societal effects dragons the size of small hills that live for a few thousand years. and its fun and relaxing nonsense.

this sp int used to be like that too.

and yet. at the same time. this is *still* my sp int. it's just different now. I still easily fall into a hyperfocus with it, i still get excited, i love it. and ive started engaging with it at a deeper level than i do with dragons. i am always being given little tidbits to explore, and then paid to explore them, to teach about them. I get to teach students about what i love more than anything. i love what i do, i love thinking about where it can take me.

I think about my relationship with this sp int when i was fifteen. at fifteen, it was fun, light, relaxing. at fifteen, i thought it was neat. i played in the shallow water and loved it. but now? its heavy. almost every day, i find out something new or put something together that deepens my understanding. i know it intimately, and will only learn more in years to come, and each thing i learn only makes me love it more.

but even so. sometimes i go weeks or months having to remind myself that yes i do love this. i get so caught up in the grind that i sometimes struggle to love it. i do love, i really do. but not in the same way that I loved it when I was fifteen.

[alltoowelltom]

miss americana & the heartbreak prince [part two]

tom holland x actress!reader

series summary: when you're called in to fake date tom holland for two months to fix his public image, you never expect anything to blossom between the two of you...

+ series masterlist

☆°・ chapter two ・°☆

“Hey”, Tom greets you as soon as you open the door.

“Hi.” you say. 

Tom pauses for a second before gesturing inside. 

“So can I come in, or…?”

“Oh!” you laugh. “Yeah of course I’m so sorry, come on in.” you move to the side to let Tom in and breathe in his subtle cologne as he brushes past you into the hall.

“Do you want something to eat or drink?” you ask, leading him into the kitchen. 

“No thanks, I ate before I came.” says Tom. He spins around in the middle of your open-plan living and dining area, letting out a low whistle in appreciation. “Nice place you got here.”

“Thank you,” you say politely as you sip at a glass of water. “I don’t get to spend as much time here as I’d really like to,” you admit. 

“I know the feeling,” Tom says wistfully. You feel bad as soon as he does. You can’t imagine how he’s feeling right now, his drama with the director being blown out of proportion more and more each day and his family so far away in London. 

“I definitely miss my family when I’m here, and don’t spend as much time in London as I’d really like.” he says while staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the bustling city. The sun is setting, fiery rays poking through the clouds as miniature cars speed through the streets, New Yorkers leaving their offices and rushing to meet dinner plans. 

It’s like he can read your mind. 

“Do they come and visit a lot? Your brothers, maybe?” you ask. 

“Oh, you’ve been doing your research I see.” Tom teases and you flush painfully. He was right, you’d spent the better part of last night Googling Tom and his achievements. You’d told yourself it was all to make the fake relationship process smoother. It was, right?

“My brother Harry spends a lot of time with me, but he went back to the UK after I left the cast of Origin,” he continues and you nod. 

“Do you get lonely here?” you ask. “With all your family being so far away?”

Tom looks a little sad before seeming to shake it off. 

“Nah, I’m not lonely.” he says. 

You nod, assuming he probably doesn’t want to talk about it with a near stranger. 

“I’m not!” he insists, stepping ever so closer. “I have you, haven’t I?”

You blush at his flirty tone and swat at his chest. 

“Right, we’ve got to get started on that.” you say firmly. 

You pick up a notepad off the counter and take a seat at the large empty dining table. Tom slips into the seat across from you, moaning theatrically as he settles in. “Oh God, this is the stuff!” he groans. “The comfort! Not like those ass-breaker chairs at the Summit office, no-”

You snort at his dramatics, flicking a pen across the table at him. 

“Stop having a love affair with my chairs and get helping me on this list!” you giggle. 

Tom sits up more seriously. 

“Right then, let’s get cracking.” he says, rolling his eyes when you dissolve into a fit of giggles. 

“What now?” he whines. 

“You- oh my God- you sound just like Gemma Collins,” you laugh. You clear your throat and do your best attempt at a very Northern British accent. “You’re just like- d’ya know what fuck this, no more bein’ down let's get this show on the road! Right let's crank the tunes up-” you dissolve into another fit of laughter as Tom pouts at you. 

“I do not!” he tries to defend his own accent, unable to hide his laughter when he realises you’re actually not too far off. 

When you’ve calmed yourself down, Tom nods at you from across the table. 

“I’m actually impressed by that accent, love. Had me believing you were a true Brit for a minute there.”

You shrug. 

“I have culture.”

You pick up your own pen. 

“Do you want to write, or should I?” you ask. 

Tom shakes his head. 

“You, absolutely you. I have the world’s worst handwriting.” 

You roll your eyes as you write down your first rule. Sliding the notebook around, you show it to Tom expecting his approval. You’re confused when he gasps. 

“What?” he shrieks. “No, kissing?!”. 

You shrug again. 

“I don’t want you to kiss me.” you state. 

Tom pouts. 

“Ouch, love. I’m not that bad a kisser. I have references if you want them to give you a call-”

You pick up the notebook and lightly smack him with it to shut him up. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you, Tom.” you explain. “I just don’t want you to kiss me, if that makes sense? Like, if someone’s gonna kiss me I want it to be because they want to. Not because some guy named Clay in an office wants them to kiss me.”

Tom sighs but nods in understanding. 

“Okay, I respect that. It’ll hurt my soul, but I respect it.” 

You smile to thank him for respecting your boundaries, and slide the notebook into his hand. 

“Go on then, your turn to come up with a rule.”

“I could wear your scrunchie.” he says finally, gesturing to the midnight blue scrunchie on your wrist. “Isn’t that what people do for their girlfriends?” 

You nod, reluctantly slipping the scrunchie off and handing it to him. 

“You’d better take care of her though. That’s my best scrunchie.”

Tom snaps it onto his wrist, wincing slightly at the snap of the elastic. 

“I’ll guard it with my life.”

Two hours, countless jokes and most of a bottle of wine later you and Tom are left staring at a fresh sheet of notepad on the coffee table. You can’t quite remember when you’d both moved to the couch but it was certainly more comfortable to sit curled up next to each other, sinking into the plush cushions and feeling your hearts pound each time your knee or shoulder brushes against the other person’s. 

“Do you think it’s done?” Tom asks. 

You read over it one more time, smoothing your finger over your signature. 

“I think so.”

“So…what do we do next?”

You shrug, trying to be casual but it’s so hard when you feel like you’re developing a teeny huge crush on the man sitting next to you. 

“I guess we tell everyone…I think Lucy suggested we post something so we don’t get swarmed when we go out in public together.” you say uncertainly. 

Tom nods, running a hand through his chocolate curls. 

“Yeah, that’s probably the next step. Though I have to admit, it’s been kinda nice keeping this secret the past few days,” he admits. “Is it weird to say that I’ve kind of had fun, just you and me?”

You hitch in a breath at his confession. Picking up your phone, you brush it off. 

“It’s probably just a nervous thing. God knows you’re dealing with a lot right now.”

Tom swallows his disappointment. 

“Yeah. That’s probably it.”

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‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

tysm for reading! please consider reblogging, it really helps a writer out <3

series taglist: @scenesofobx @lnmp89 @mayal0pez @alisslahey @nahhcuhh @youcantseem3 @theekyliepage @racavalier @wh0reforbucknasty @moniffazictress11

[bi-bard]

We'd Become the Flowers - Dean Winchester Imagine [Supernatural]

Title: We'd Become the Flowers

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Based On: In a Week

Word Count: 604 words

Warning(s): mention of hunting

Summary: (Y/n) finally convinces Dean to actually relax for a weekend. While on their trip together, the two entertain the idea of never going back to hunting.

Author's Note: Every time I find a cute song, I go "Fuck it! Dean deserves this!"

This is probably more of a drabble than anything.

HOZIER [2014] WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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

After I ended up in the hunting life, I never thought that I would ever find myself on a vacation.

I had always expected to be too busy. I expected one emergency after the other to always be in the way of ever having a truly relaxing day.

But here I was, sitting on a chair on the patio of a cabin tucked away from the world. Not only that, but Dean was in the seat next to me. I had seen many things that I would have considered impossible. But this... this was more shocking than the rest of it.

"What are you looking at," Dean asked, looking over at me.

I blinked a few times, snapping out of my thoughts. "Hmm?"

Dean chuckled. "I asked what you were looking at."

"Oh," I mumbled. "Just... you."

He scoffed. "I could tell-"

"Shut up," I cut him off. "I just... I don't think this has hit me yet. We're on a vacation, Dean. Holy crap!"

"I know, I was part of the decision to go."

"Oh, don't be an ass," I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back in my seat.

"Hey," he said, drawing the word out a bit. I didn't respond. "(Y/n)..."

He reached over and poked at my arm.

"Come on..."

I bit my lip to keep from smiling at him.

"Well, this isn't gonna work."

I heard the wood of the patio creaking as he stood up and walked over to me. He stopped right in front of me, leaning forward on the armrests of the chair.

One of his hands reached out and touched my chin, guiding me to look at him. He grinned at me. I tried to keep myself from grinning at him. He chuckled at me before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine.

I sighed as my eyes closed and I kissed him back.

I could spend forever like this.

I never considered leaving the hunting life before I met Dean. I thought that I would always be stuck in the same cycle of hunts and research and more hunts. But Dean made me feel like I could have so much more than that. He already gave me so much more than that.

He pulled away first.

"We should stay here forever," I mumbled to him. "Right here."

"Just throw out the guns and call it a day?"

"Have late mornings and homecooked dinners every night," I continued. "You could get a good job fixing up cars. I'll do... something. I didn't think that far ahead."

He chuckled at me.

"And we'll have enough peace to kiss each other and hold each other and love each other," I leaned in and pressed a few more kisses to his jawline. "And then, when we're both old and tired, we'll die next to each other. Holding hands."

"And let the house stink."

"Someone'll stumble upon us. And they'll tell our story. And we'll live forever. In more than some strange legacy of violence."

I heard Dean hum before he moved his head to kiss my lips properly again. I hummed back against his lips.

"I like your thinking," he muttered between kisses.

I smiled. He stopped to smile back at me.

"One day," he promised. "I'll get you that cute little place where we can live forever."

I cupped the sides of his face. "We've earned it."

He nodded. "Absolutely."

And as he leaned down to kiss me again, I knew that my forever didn't need to be a place or a life or job or anything like that.

It was just him.

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

Navigation Guide

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[daisychainsandbowties]

8, 17, 68

8. i have answered!

17. what do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

usually if i can’t write it’s because i’ve done the autism neglect thing again. a total lack of interoception means that i will sometimes go for too long without performing body-maintainence. so, when i’m struggling to write i go take a nap or i go outside or go get my ass kicked in karate.

i (for better or worse) have many different ideas on the go at any given time, so if one won’t happen for me i just switch to another, tap out little bits. usually doing that will let me trick myself into working on a story properly.

and of course sometimes i’m just not ready to write a scene. i think i’ve not been ready to write ligaments for a few months just because of what specifically i have to write, and also second-person being both addictive and difficult to transition too, with a totally different structure (in terms of how i have to think about composing sentences) than close third. sometimes a scene is too personal, or i don’t really understand the emotions in it enough to describe them, so i need to spend time dipping my hands in the blood of a scene to figure out what it’s made of.

mostly i do just need a nap

68. what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

oh well my favourite form of inspiration is to just go and do some research. today it’s numismatics, dental science, king louis XIV. but sometimes that doesn’t work, or more often it’s useful when i’ve already got ideas.

i simply cannot plot anything out while i’m sitting still, so for that flavour of inspiration i go out walking in the plains, where you can stare all the way to the horizon or go visit the tower my dad used to abseil down the side of when he was sixteen. there, i’m under no pressure to think about anything at all, save not accidentally chasing sheep out into oncoming traffic (they are so stupid and so scared).

oh but probably the greatest source of inspiration itself comes from my friends and from communities i’m a part of. writing in isolation is something i find quite difficult, though i’ve done it before. it is by and large much more fun to write in a space where you can go on endlessly about your ideas to other people. inspiration from love or something i suppose.

[wiltingdecay]

was bored and couldn't get my pea brain to focus on writing after expending so much energy today so here's some half baked rowan charm "plans" (i use that term very lightly here)

halloween charm rowan

• BANSHEE ROWAN? BANSHEE ROWAN............... BANSHEE ROWAN!!

• banshees are just yassified ghosts so tattered white gown + white hood/veil thingy + some kind of waist corset thingy to rowanify it some more.

• hair MESSY and flying out around his head.

• dark and extremely smudgy make-up, maybe some white foundation as well (i don't think banshees have freckles :( sad)

• arms out pose so big ripped sleeves can dangle and be centred

• face like >:] and general heehoo im gonna getcha vibes

baewatch charm rowan

• beeeeeg sunhat, smthing similar to portia's but with darker colours perchance

• they probably didn't have obnoxious patterned hawaiian shirts in ye olden times but he's getting one anyway

• tiny lil dark plain coloured bikini top underneath bc said hawaiian shirt must be oversized + unbuttoned

• either equally tiny full ass out shorts or full transmasc board shorts. might sketch both and see which i like best

• chunky wedge sandals bc he's apparently been short coded, he can't not remind ppl that he is Tall

• pose..... idk but he will be holding a margarita. would be floating in a big donut but too similar to asra's + hides outfit. perhaps crouching by a rock pool befriending a crab

wedding charm rowan

• sitting SEXILY. legs crossed ass and thighs in full view.

• can't imagine rowan getting married at his ingame age/maturity level so make him look a lil older

• longer hair? longer hair. would be styled like his regular hairstyle but Fancier. thinking braided back like muriel's hair in his route

• white + gold outfit obviously but with red accents... red tie? red hair accessories? red lips? red bottom boots? yes

• white ruffly poet shirt showing off hefty amounts of chest... gold underbust waistcoat or corset w red detailing... frilly ass pants with gold embroidery.... white or gold heel boots... fuck maybe a white w gold or just straight gold tailcoat too he is getting MARRIED he should go all out (but on the other hand i don't want it to just be a recolour of his masquerade fit so we'll see)

• fanciest gold jewellery i am willing to spend time drawing

wonderland charm rowan

• i guess rowan is alice?? only thing that really makes sense lmao

• turn alice's skirt into shorts and her apron into a lil waist corset and we have ourselves a rowancore outfit

• pose + background elements; based on scene from the beginning where alice is falling into wonderland - pose rowan partially upside down/falling headfirst perhaps

• have plot important stuff falling with him; the emerald necklace, cards from asra's deck, myrrh pouch, julian's research, red beetles, etc

fruit charm rowan

• rowan is already a fruit and today that fruit will be a mango. red + green + lil bit of goldish yellow fits his aesthetique to a t

• outfits seem to be modern au + matching the fruit's palette for the most part soooooo... slightly slutty punkish dark academia outfit that's red/green/little bit of gold. idk what that would even entail but i'll figure something out

• pose/background details; sitting legs crossed on beeg half-mango "boat" and holding/eating smaller mango?? idk the composition of these charms confuses my pea brain for some reason

potion bottle shaker charm rowan

• finally i do not have to cook up a new outfit. breathes a sigh of relief

• pose.... idk he'll just be sittin. either he'll be a bit slutty about it or takin a nap against the side of the bottle, i could go either way

• heart shaped red bottle with a gold stopper inlaid with a turquoise gemstone(s) to match/reference their necklace. might have some gorse flowers around the top too. perchance.

• contents of bottle: two tarot cards. sammi. a chibi version of the tower (Uh Oh). the notebook that they scribble investigation stuff/General Thots in throughout the routes. a little flame.

tired so i'll plan out the rest some other time