#mid-day meal scheme

[indizombie]

The National Programme of Nutritional Support to Primary Education (MDM Scheme), launched in August 1995 emphasises on the provision of cooked meals with a minimum of 450 – 700 calories and 8-12 grams of proteins and was further converted by the National Food Security Act (NFSA) 2013 into a legal right upto Class 8. Over 94% of the children in government and government aided schools come from Scheduled Caste, Scheduled Tribe, Other Backward Classes and minority communities. For a majority of children in government schools who are from marginalised communities and malnourished, garlic, onion and eggs form an important part of their diets, limited only by the factor of affordability. Eggs have been denied to children as part of the mid-day meals in schools for several years. Described as the ‘menstrual discharge’ of the hen, eggs are labelled as ‘sinful’, ‘violent’, and agitating the senses, with egg eaters deserving to be ‘destroyed’. If, instead of this unscientific propaganda, the nutritional value of eggs had been the primary deciding factor, children would have been given eggs as part of the mid-day meal scheme on 5 days of the week.

Dr Sylvia Karpagam, ‘A critical look at Indian healthcare‘, Aura

#Aura #Sylvia Karpagam #India #National Programme of Nutritional Support to Primary Education #National Food Security Act #Scheduled Castes #Scheduled Tribes #Other Backward Classes #minority communities #children in government schools #garlic #onion #eggs #affordability #unscientific propaganda #nutritional value #mid-day meal scheme

[hritipuri9]

Nourishing Young Minds: Understanding the Mid Day Meal Scheme

The Mid Day Meal Scheme is like a big lunch plan for kids in school. It started in 1955 by the Indian government to make sure kids get good food during the day. This plan helps schools and helps kids too. Let's learn more about it.

Why We Have the Mid Day Meal Scheme: In India, many kids go to government schools. Sometimes, these kids only get their lunch at school. So, the government started the Mid Day Meal Scheme to give these kids good and healthy food. It helps kids stay healthy and saves money for their families too.

What's New with the Scheme: Recently, the government decided to give money directly to kids under the Mid Day Meal Scheme. This is to help pay for cooking food for all kids in schools. The government wants to give cash to around 11.8 crore students.

What the Scheme Does: The Mid Day Meal Scheme started to help kids in government schools. It began in 1955 and has been helping kids get lunch at school ever since. At first, not all kids got food properly, but now, over 12 crore kids benefit from it.

How Much Money Goes into the Scheme: Because the scheme is all over India and things cost more now, the government is putting more money into it. This means kids can get better food and more veggies in their meals.

What Kids Eat in the Scheme: Under the Mid Day Meal Scheme, kids get different foods every day. They get things like rice or wheat, lentils, oil, fat, and vegetables. It's a balanced meal to keep them healthy and strong.

What Kids Eat Each Week: Throughout the week, kids get different meals. They might have roti with veggies and lentils on Monday, rice with lentils and veggies on Tuesday, and so on. The menu changes to keep things interesting.

Common Questions about the Scheme:

Which state in India started the Mid Day Meal Scheme first?

Tamil Nadu was the first state to start the Mid Day Meal Scheme.

What are the main benefits of the Mid Day Meal Scheme?

It helps more kids go to school, makes sure poor kids get enough food, and stops hungry kids from feeling hungry at school.

Who gets food under the Mid Day Meal Scheme?

Kids in classes 1 to 8 in government schools, who are between 6 and 14 years old, along with kids in special training centers and madrasas.

#Mid Day Meal Scheme

[formulaforza]

lunch date- m.schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x reader word count: 700 a/n: blegh

You loved your job. At times, it was the only thing that you felt like you had control over in your life, a constant in a vast ocean of chaos with an ever changing current. You could do without the early mornings some days, especially on chilly winter mornings when you forget to start your car before leaving or the coffee maker takes a crap or you forgot to change the laundry and your favorite pants are still soaked in the washing maching. All those things were trivial in the grand scheme of things, though. Work was great. Great coworkers, great bosses, great facilities, and great work. You knew with a hundred and ten percent confidence that you had set yourself down the right path all those years ago before graduation. 

You loved your job, except when Mick was visiting. When your boyfriend, who was long-distance even when he wasn’t travelling to races, was sitting in your apartment all day being all cozy on the couch and cooking meals in your kitchen and playing with your dog, you resented work. 

I miss you, you would text him more when he was visiting than when he was away. It was almost harder, knowing he was right there and you couldn’t stay in his company, stay in the warm bed, watch your favorite movies on the couch and eat the food only he could make taste good. 

You’ll be home soon, he would always reply because he knew if he said I miss you too, you’d be halfway home before the message even went all the way through. 

The phone in your office rang a little before lunch and you answered it without second thought, mid-email, only half-focused on the voice on the other end. There’s a delivery for you in the lobby, the front-desk associate spoke, and you promised to be down shortly to pick it up. You hung the phone back on the line and returned your attention to your email, finishing the task before you stepped into the elevator. It was on the ride down you’d realized how strange a request it was. You never have anything delivered to work, and when you do, they always bring it to your office with any company mail you’d received. You’d never had to go to the lobby to pick up anything outside of a food delivery before. 

He’s waiting for you in the lobby–jeans and a cozy sweater and carry-out from your favorite lunch spot. He’s lingering at the front desk, making small talk and laughing at one of the receptionist’s jokes and charming everyone to death, just like always. “What are you doing here?” You ask as you approach, his head shoots in your direction and his smile flips from a polite purse to a genuine grin. 

“I brought lunch.”e holds up the bag like a proud little kid. 

You eat together on the bench on the sidewalk outside. It’s the perfect temperature out and the sun is shining and the air smells like the fresh bread from the bakery that’s a few buildings down the street instead of the stuffy recycled air in your office. 

“You remembered my order,” you smile sweetly at him, pulling out the to-go box of sushi and setting it on the bench between your bodies. He digs into the bottom of the bag, retrieves two white paper sleeves and pulls the chopsticks out, hands a pair to you. 

“I know all your orders.”

“Don’t get cocky, now.”

“I do, I have them all in my phone.” You laugh around the chopsticks. “What?”

You chew hard, hurried, swallow part of the bite and hum his question away. You cover your lips, shield him from the contents of your mouth while you finish chewing. “Nothing.”

He shakes his head, knows you don’t believe him, wants to show off his word. You watch him dig his phone out from his pocket, tap the screen a few times before he’s showing you a note in your contact card. He has probabably a dozen different restaurants and their orders typed out. “See?” He says, proud and goofy. 

“That’s really sweet, Mick,” you tell him. “You’re adorable.”

“I know.”

#mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher fic #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher #mick schumacher fluff #ms47 #msc47 #f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 #f1 fanfic #mack's 10 days of fluff #day 10 #i hate this! 👍🏻

[sirenmoth]

Safe Haven

Synopsis: After a long day of dealing with rude tourists, Lester seeks out his safe haven

CW: Tourists being mean, mention of murder and deady bodies and animal death/decay, also this might be chessy

lester lives in a trailer fight me

Lester pulled up to his trailer after a long day of roadkill collecting and having to deal with unexpected tourists and their rude comments and remarks ranging from the pit of dead animals and how imhumane it is and the smell of it to his appearnace and looks, the group hiding their poorly glares of disgust, the game group of tourists who were currently being hunted down by the twins around the town and added to the ever growing collection of mummified wax corpses in hopes to bring back the once livly and bustling town. Though he only played a small part in the whole scheme, it was still a very taxing and demanding role; 'city folks never understand, their too stuck up in their own world' Bo would say, which is why Lester always appreciated your efforts to help out where you could, sometimes going as far to help the twins clean up after a visit or bringing them left over homecooked meals.

Tired and desperatley wanting nothing more then a warm shower, some good food and sleep, Lester climbed out of his truck with Jonsey in tow, wiping the grim off his hands as he walked towards the front porch and up the stairs, taking note of the open screen door to combat the mid summer Louisiana heat. Opening the front door as quietly as he could, Lester was greeted by the silence of the trailer mixed with the dull chriping and buzzing of the insects outside.

A small plate of food covered in plastic wrap, to deter any bugs that many of wondering in looking for a meal, was left on the dining table for two, attached to it was a note, with a heart drawn on the bottom:

"asleep in the bedroom, hope you enjoy it, there's some left overs in the fridge i'll bring to the twins tommorow"

The domesticity you brought never failed to bring a smile to Lesters face, the two of you work perfectly together. Placing the plate in the microwave to heat it up, Lester went about his routine as quite as possible, not wanting to disturb your sleep, feeding Jonsey and finishing his now heated diner before heading to the bathroom for a quick shower. Opting to forgo any shirt due to the heat, Lester set on cleaning his mess before heading to bed.

Making his way to the back of the trailer, spotting your sleepig figure in one of his shirts, the thin blanket you have on pooling around your waist, Jonsey in her usual spot at the end of the end, resting her head on your ankles already fast asleep from the long day.

Carefully lifting up the blanket and climbing underneath, making himself comfortable, lester wrapped his arms around your midsection, enough for you to feel him and keep you close but not close enough to sweat and overheat. The disturbamce caused you to roll over, facing him, eyes still closed and barley awake as you mumble a slurred "welcome home" combined with a tired smile Lester loved oh so much, smiling back he pulled you in a little bit closer before finally choosing to sleep.

#lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x you #lester sinclair house of wax #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher lover #slasher fucker #slasher community

[cursedonyx]

Garreth Weasley ABCs

Just some Headcanons for our favourite Weasley 🧡

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s a big, playful teddy bear. Having grown up in a large, loving family, Garreth is fond of giving and receiving hugs, ruffling hair, pulling your cloak over your head, and booping your nose. He loves to sneak up behind you and cover your eyes, shouting “guess who?” in a variety of comedic voices which you suppose are meant to be impressions of your classmates. He can be softer when he’s not showing off for everyone, taking your hand gently and rubbing the back of it with his thumb. He’ll sit behind you and rub your shoulders, and he’s very good at it. He likes to sit behind you and rest his chin on your shoulder, his arms around your middle, and just sit quietly for a while as you read to him.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The best way to ingratiate yourself to Garreth is to go along with his schemes. You’ll be well rewarded for it, and he’ll be a true friend. He’s carefree and cheerful, and this is reflected in his attitude to his friends. He’s quite open-minded, and having grown up in such a large family, he’s rarely affected by negative words from others, unless they’re from someone he cares about. He’s unafraid of bending the rules and enjoys causing mischief, but never so much that it would hurt anyone else. That being said, he can struggle with more serious topics, preferring to try to lighten the mood and cheer you up, when all you really need is a shoulder to cry on. Tell him this, and he’ll do his best to give you what you need, even if it takes a few tries to be serious.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He’s a big snuggler. No matter if he’s big spoon or little spoon, his arms are going to engulf you and he’s going to nuzzle his face into the closest crevasse he can, whether it’s your chest, under your arm, in between your shoulder and neck, or the back of your knee. It sometimes seems like he’s actually trying to absorb you, and holy shit does it make you feel safe.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He’s used to household chores, having had to do his fair share at home. He might not enjoy it, but he does a thorough job when he’s cleaning. He’s a fair cook, but he keeps his meals simple and quick, preferring to save his experimentation for the cauldron.

Garreth would love to settle down one day with someone special, and yes, he wants a big, happy family. He’d be a devoted husband and playful father. Any mischief the kids get up to, you can guarantee that Garreth not only knew about it, but encouraged it.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Garreth would make every conceivable effort to save his relationship with you. Long talks, gestures of affection, gifts, promises to help you through whatever it is that’s causing the rift, promising to change if that’s what’s needed, even couple’s therapy. But there are some things he can’t forgive. Cheating, he could perhaps understand, and he’d work to be better, though his trust would be broken. Coldness and distance would make him want to find out why and help you. Aggression or violence would not be tolerated. Any harm towards his children, and you’re gone. He’d sit you down and tell you in no uncertain terms that it’s over, that he’s sorry he couldn’t be better, but this is his decision, and it’s final.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married? How would they propose?)

Garreth could be a bit of a playboy in his youth, dating all and sundry, enjoying the experiences of being with multiple people. But he would want to settle down sometime in his mid-twenties, or perhaps even before, if he meets the right person. He’d absolutely want to get married, and his proposal would be in his typical, playful style. He’d want to get his friends involved, and would probably make a show of it. He might even sing and dance for you before getting down on one knee.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Garreth can be a bit clumsy, both physically and emotionally. He doesn’t mean to be, he’s just enthusiastic, and it’s quite adorable really. If he’s got something big to talk about, he’ll be uncharacteristically soft and gentle.

His hugs and cuddles are like being caught by a bear, very tight and difficult to get out of, not that you’d want to. With his height and frame, you always feel secure when he hugs you, even if he does tend to jerk you right off your feet sometimes. He tends to drag you around by the hand, arm or waist, not because he’s being disrespectful, but again, because he’s enthusiastic, and sometimes forgets his own strength.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He’s a big hugger. He’ll come at you, arms wide, and sweep you in, crushing you to his chest. His one-armed hugs from the side are the same – he scoops you in and jostles you about a bit.

He can be tender, if the situation calls for it. Those hugs are where he really shines, holding you so gently, but so safely, his hand on the back of your head, his other arm around your back, enveloping you like a blanket. Honestly, he gives the best hugs.

I = Intimacy (How do they like to be intimate? Any preferences/kinks?)

Garreth is an enthusiastic lover, and he makes every effort to see you finish before he does, even if he’s not always able. He’s simply enamoured by you, and can’t help but lose himself when he’s with you. If he does finish first, he won’t stop until you do.

He’s open to experimenting and is up for pretty much anything, at least once. “Don’t knock it till you try it” seems to be his motto, but he will respect any and all of your boundaries if you make him aware of them.

His pullout game is horrendous. He can’t help himself.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Much as he hates to admit it, he does get jealous easily, particularly around those he feels have something he doesn’t, whether it’s money, status, a certain kind of charm, or confidence. He’s fairly secure in himself for the most part, but he’s aware of his shortcomings. If he was feeling jealous, he’d make an effort to mark his territory by planting a deliberate kiss on your head or cheek, or taking your hand, or even wrapping his arms around you and leaning on you. If the others don’t get the hint, he’d try and distract you and lead you away. If that fails, he’s just going to pick you up and walk off with you.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Enthusiastic, wet, lots of tongue. He’s going to kiss you every chance he gets, and he’ll kiss you everywhere. He particularly likes nibbling your ear before kissing down your neck to your collarbone, teasing you until you pull him up to kiss him properly. He loves winding you up like that. He particularly loves receiving little forehead kisses when he’s resting next to you, they always make him feel loved.

L = Love (When do they say ‘I love you?’ How are they as a romantic partner?)

Considering his enthusiasm, Garreth would actually be very shy about saying “I love you” for the first time. If he does say it first, it’ll likely be something he builds up to deliberately, worrying about how you’re going to take it. If you say it first, he’ll be relieved, and say it frequently afterwards.

Garreth is a fun romantic partner, his cheer and bright attitude meaning time spent with him is never dull. He always wants to try new things, see new places, and make games out of the things you do. He’s very high-energy, and this can be exhausting for a more laid-back partner. He doesn’t mind putting the effort in to dates and fun things to do, but he can feel a little used or morose if this effort isn’t reciprocated or appreciated.

He’s very loving and attentive to your needs, and he’s not afraid to ask for what he wants in return. He makes a lot of effort in all his actions with you.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

While Garreth enjoys lie-ins, he’s used to a routine and typically rises the same time each day. He’ll typically want breakfast in his pyjamas before he has his shower and gets ready for the day – surprising him with breakfast in bed is one of his favourite things for you to do, and he’ll do it for you a lot, especially if you’ve been feeling a bit down.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Being the high-energy chap that he is, Garreth typically likes to get an early night. This is even better for him if it means he can get in an intimate session with you before settling down to sleep. He doesn’t like to be up much later than ten or eleven in the evening, but will stay up with you if you’ve both planned something, like a late-night picnic under the stars.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Garreth is an open book. If you want to know, ask. He loves talking about his family, his friends, his classes, his professors, his misadventures, all of it. He’s a bit of a gossip, but he knows how to keep a secret. He has a tendency to overshare, but only if it’s about him. He’d never presume to talk about yours or a friend’s secrets without explicit permission.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Chill is his middle name. He usually brushes off things that would annoy or upset most people, the rows he’s had with his huge family have given him a thick skin, and the love from that same family makes him cheerful. He tends to respond with a joke or a quip.

It takes quite a lot to get under his skin, whether it’s constant needling or something large enough to piss him off, and that’s when the grizzly bear comes out. He’ll roar, shout, get all up in their face, and he may even start swinging, depending on how badly he’s been angered (though he wouldn’t ever get violent with you). If he has a fight with a friend, a quick muggle or magic duel will typically resolve everything, and he’s besties with them again, laughing and joking as they patch each other up.

He’s not one to hold grudges, and tends to “live and let live” unless someone’s upset you. That’s when he makes an effort to slip the offender one of his more brilliant potion experiments.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Garreth isn’t necessarily forgetful, but he’s not got the greatest attention span, and can easily get distracted. He will forget birthdays (he’s got a lot to keep track of with his family) but if he knows when your birthday is, he’ll write himself little reminders to make sure he remembers. Whether he remembers to look at the reminders is another matter. If he does forget, he’ll be deeply apologetic and will try to make it up to you in any way he can.

He does remember little things, like your favourite ice cream flavour, your favourite colour, or completely random conversations you had with him years and years ago that you may have forgotten.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

If he had to pick, it’d be the first time you danced together. He’s got two left feet for anything fancy, but he’s always going to remember exactly how you looked, how you had your hair, any jewellery you wore, and the way you felt pressed up against him as you waltzed clumsily around. He didn’t care that he was getting the steps wrong and out of time. He didn’t care that people were laughing. He only cared that he was with you, and you were smiling at him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Considering how easy-going Garreth is, he’s not overly protective. He knows you like to go out and occasionally get yourself into trouble, but he trusts wholeheartedly that you know what you’re doing, and would never presume to try and dampen your adventurous spirit. That being said, he does worry about you, and will fuss over you when you return from an adventure until he’s satisfied that you’re alright. If you’re injured, he’s going to insist he cares for you until you’re all better, even if it’s just a papercut.

If you’re protective of him, he’s gobsmacked. He’s never had anyone stand up for him before, much less protect him, and it makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He might even pretend to be in peril just so you’ll jump in and ‘rescue’ him. He adores meaning so much to you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

A surprising amount of effort goes into Garreth’s plans. He is full of ideas for dates and anniversaries, and he wants them to be as exciting and fun-filled as possible. He’s pretty easygoing, so if the date doesn’t go to plan, overruns or something happens to spoil the plans, he can very quickly come up with a new idea to make the day just as special anyway.

For gifts, Garreth tends to play it safe. For his family, it’s easy. He knows who likes books, who likes Quidditch, who likes chocolate and so on. But for you? Once he knows what you like, that’s what he buys. There will be variations, of course, but if you tell him you like fudge, he’s going to get you fudge.

For everyday tasks, he tends to hurry through them as quickly as possible so he can get to the fun stuff, whether that’s experimenting with a new potion or planning a fun day out.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Garreth believes firmly in the “better out than in” philosophy of life, and he’s not ashamed of it. You are convinced he ate a brass band at one point.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Garreth is quite proud of his looks; he loves having the traditional red hair and freckles of the Weasleys. He’s tall and broad, strong in the shoulders and thick in the waist. He’s got a little bit of a tummy, but he doesn’t care, especially because it’s comfy for you. He does try to make an effort, and at least brushes his hair and cleans his teeth. He wears whatever comes out of the wardrobe first, and prefers functionality over fashion.

That being said, when he does make an effort, he scrubs up extremely well.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

You were a fascinating, bright spark in his life. He’d love to make you his own, as a best friend, or a lover. He’d miss you if you weren’t there, even if you were only friends. He’d try to get over it, and he would manage eventually, but until the end of his days, he will remember you. Though it happens less and less as time goes on, you’ll pop up in his mind from time to time, and he’ll take a moment to close his eyes and remember the way you smiled, the way you smelled, and the way you laughed.

X = Xtra (Random headcanons for them)

Though Garreth complains about Matilda Weasley keeping too close an eye on him, he secretly appreciates it, knowing it comes from a place of love. He’ll go to her with any problems he has, and if he’s feeling blue, he’ll go to her office and curl up on the sofa, reading or doing his homework while she works, just to be close to her.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He’s pretty easy-going, but he can’t stand aggression or bullies. Vindictive, petty people will put him off. He can’t stand liquorice, and the smell of it makes him gag.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Garreth’s very high energy, so when he sleeps, he’s out like a light once his head hits the pillow, and he’s a heavy sleeper. He’s got a pretty good internal clock so even though any alarm would need to be at the rough volume of a cannon, he’ll wake up on time. He tends to spread out on his back, and he does snore. He’s very warm, so he’s great to snuggle up to in the winter.

#garreth weasley #hogwarts legacy #ABC #headcanon #Garreth Weasley x You #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x reader

[daimyosprincess]

INTERLUDE: IDYLL

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

—SUMMARY: Taking a little inspiration from some literature, Professor Fett indulges you in one of your fantasies.

—WORD COUNT: 10.4k

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

—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, alcohol consumption by reader and others, Dom/sub power dynamics (Dom!Boba and sub!reader), BDSM elements, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl), lots of petnames, praise kink, dirty talk, mild degradation (discussed beforehand, use of “slut” and “whore”) choking, (sugar) Daddy kink, money kink, consensual non-consent (marked in story, can skip over and still enjoy the rest of the spice)

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: Welcome back y'all! I hope you guys have a sweet tooth because this ten thousand words of pure sugar baby filth 🤑 I chose the title "Idyll" because of its associations with romance and the fact this one-shot is an interlude between Vols. I and II, and to keep with the literature theming for part titles (and yes also because I think I'm clever lmao).

A big thank you as always to @agirlnamejacq and @rexxdjarin for betaing this series, and thank you to you my beloveds for all the support and feedback 💖

Read on AO3 — Series Masterlist — Taglist

<Part V

The idea hadn’t left your head since you read that Maker-forsaken chapter in the book Selena recommended to you. It’s dogged you for days, scrambled your thoughts, and ruined every pair of panties you’ve worn this week just thinking about it. You’d come embarrassingly quickly on your fingers the night before fantasizing about the plan you’d made to turn the chapter’s plot into your and Boba’s reality this weekend. Watching the clock tick down until five o’clock today had felt like literal torture; you’re so ready for the work week to end and your sexy little scheme to begin.

Your nerves thrum with excitement as you make your way to Boba’s front door with your overnight bag slug across your shoulder and the groceries you’d picked up balanced on your hip. Jiggling the key he’d given you in the lock, you ease over the threshold into the house, careful as not to drop anything. Setting your bag to the floor, you begin flicking on lights as you make your way to the kitchen.

Boba had to deliver some materials to another member of his department after class, giving you just enough time to start some dinner to surprise him with when he got home. With midterms fast approaching, he’d been putting in longer weeks and though he never complained, you know he could use a good home cooked meal and a little extra fun in the bedroom to take the edge off.

Once the groceries are sorted, you put on some light music and pour yourself a glass of the sweet wine Boba gets especially for you since you don’t care for dry reds he prefers. The kitchen is soon filled with the fragrant scent of onion and garlic as you busy yourself with the meal preparation, cutting and sauteing and seasoning, losing yourself in the familiar process.

Sometime later you hear the front door shut, signaling Boba’s arrival home. You wipe your hands on the blue-striped dishrag to your left and pluck another wine glass down from the shelf, filling it with the velvety red wine your professor favors.

“Careful, princess,” Boba’s luscious voice warns, “a man could get used to coming home to a beautiful woman cooking his dinner.”

And I could get used to doing it, you think as you re-cork the bottle, especially since this domestic stuff always has him on his knees wanting to have me for dessert. 

You can’t help the flirty smile that blossoms across your face as you take his glass in hand and turn to face him. Your response evaporates from your wine-sweet lips, however, when you see the colorful bouquet of flowers in his hand. Your eyes travel up his arms to his broad shoulders before landing on his pleased expression and twinkling eyes. “Looks like we’re both full of surprises,” you grin—the flowers are your favorite kind. 

Boba winks, “Gotta keep my best girl happy since I haven’t gotten to see her much this week.” He closes the space between you, setting the flowers on the counter so he can link his arms around your waist. 

“And I have to keep Daddy fed so he has the energy to keep up with me all weekend,” you tease before pressing a kiss to his lips. Boba eagerly accepts it and his hand slides down to grab a fistful of your ass, jostling the wine glass in between your bodies. You pull back, doing your best to look annoyed. “If you spill this on me, I’m going to make you lick up every last drop.”

A chuckle rumbles in Boba’s warm chest pressed against you. “Is that supposed to be a threat, sweetheart? ‘Cause it sounds like an incentive to me.”

You make a scandalized noise, your free hand falling onto your chest. “Sir, how dare you! I am a proper young lady who-” You’re cut off by Boba’s mouth on yours, his tongue dragging slowly along your bottom lip and making the rest of whatever you were going to say slip from your mind.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he murmurs smugly into your kiss, grinding his hips into yours.

You lean back farther this time, arching a brow at him. “Keep it up, professor, and your dinner’s going to be burnt.” After a moment, Boba sighs dramatically in defeat and releases you to peek at what you have on the stove. Pressing his drink into his hand, you shoo him away. “Ah ah ah! No taste tests! Go change and it’ll be ready by the time you come back.” Grumbling, he complies and you watch him disappear off to his bedroom. 

Oh, just you wait until you hear the plans I have for you, Professor Fett.

After dinner, you’re curled into him on the couch with your shared nightcap in your hand. The sated, cozy atmosphere of the room combined with the low light of the lamps lends an intimate feeling to the space as you finish your dinner discussion. 

“So there’s something you wanted to ask me about, pretty girl?” Boba asks, his fingers trailing up your arm leisurely. 

You take a quick sip of the whiskey, not that you need it, and smile up at him. Finally, the time has come to reveal the desire that’s been consuming you all week. “Mmm, yes there is. It’s about what I want to do with you this weekend… something I read in the book Selena recommended to me.” Thrilling heat begins to creep up your neck at what you’re about to describe to him.

Taking a sip of the liquor from your cup, Boba sets it on the side table to give you his full attention. “I’m all ears, princess,” he purrs with eyes brimming with glimmering darkness, his other hand clamping down on your hip to pull you even closer into him. His posture remains attentive, however, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Welllll,” you draw out, enjoying the last of the suspense, “in this book, the girl falls in love with a super good-looking guy who gets coffee at the same café as her, who, as it turns out, is also super rich.” Boba hums in amusement and you have to swallow back the urge to jump him right then and there, though just barely; as tempting as making out with him is, your next words are far more important. “This rich, handsome man ends up taking the heroine out to buy some very expensive jewelry so that he can fuck her in nothing but the diamonds he bought her.” 

Glancing up, you see Boba has a devilish smile on his face. In the beginning of your relationship, you might have gotten a little shy at this point, a bit bashful about the nature of your desire for this god of a man.

Not now, however. With Boba’s reassuring hand and your agreed-upon rules at your back, you’ve sailed into uncharted seas, uncovering more than you ever thought possible along his shores: pleasures and comforts more satisfying and valuable than even the most lustrous of the ocean’s treasures. He is your north star, a guide who impels, rather than compels, as you discover your personal and shared splendors.

 Boba’s large hands snake around your waist to pull you over the thick of his thighs, your knees hugging the outside of his hips. “And has all this given my little princess some ideas?” he prompts with a knowing smirk.

A breathy laugh slips past your lips as he grinds the growing bulge in his pants into your core: your professor can get harder quicker than the boys half his age you’d been with. Focus, you chide yourself, you haven’t even gotten to the good part. Anchoring yourself in the depths of his mahogany eyes, you bite your lip. 

“Lots of ideas,” you confirm, tipping forward to place slow kisses up his jaw, “Ideas about how I want you to give me that full sugar baby experience… designer clothes, shoes, jewelry, everything.” Scalding heat flashes through your entire body as you relay your wicked request. When you reach his ear, you can feel the way his breath catches when you trace its shell with the tip of your warm tongue, his burning heat washing over you. “Then I want you to make me earn every single kriffing penny you spent, want you to make me prove that I’m Daddy’s girl inside and out.”

The unfiltered grit of Boba’s groan has you gushing like sin itself is stroking you between your thighs. “Oh babygirl, you want Daddy to spoil you then put you in your place? Give you everything your little heart desires then take it out of that sweet pussy? Fuck you like that’s all you’re good for?” he grunts, yanking your shirt to the side so he can suck a bruise into your exposed shoulder. His teeth graze over the damp skin under his lips, nipping at the tender flesh. “Fuck, you’re so filthy and perfect, just for me… mmph, just for me. Come here, sweetheart.” 

Cupping your face with battle-worn hands, Boba crushes his mouth against yours, hot, hungry, and demanding. Your chest is already heaving with the weight of your arousal from the mere discussion of your fantasy as he steals the air from your lungs, his tongue greedily licking into the heat of your mouth. Licentious warmth pricks your cheeks and simmers in your belly to see he’s also turned on by your lewd wishes—it makes you want nothing more than to tear into him right here and now.

Boba’s hands are already rocking your hips over the straining fabric of his erection, sending all your blood and attention to the slick apex of your thighs; the sinful huffs of pleasure coming from him are eating through the last of your fluttering restraint. Fisting the collar of his t-shirt to gather your resolve, you pant out the last of your request into your kiss. “A-and I want you to-shit-to shove your money down my brand-new dress and panties and fuck me in it.” 

A deep growl of pure desire claws its way up his throat, and straight to your pussy. “Kark, shit, w-we’ll talk about the rest of this later, filthy girl, I need you right fucking now.” 

You’re in his bed with open arms and open legs before the minute is out.

Clipping the straps of the garter band to the rest of the gorgeous lingerie set, you smile at yourself in the mirror of the elegant dressing room. The entire day has been better than you ever could’ve imagined, and kriffing hell if you don’t look good in this scarlet lace. It’s been worth every minute you spent waiting… and Boba hasn’t even fucked you yet.

He’s taken your fantasy very seriously—wining and dining you at restaurants you didn’t even know existed between trips to stores you’d only ever heard of from fashion magazines—and, if the hard-on he’s rubbed against your ass at every opportunity is any indication, is enjoying everything just as much as you are. You couldn’t help but suck him off in the backseat of his Audi wearing your new emerald earrings and bracelet to show him just how grateful his little princess could be.

As promised, the two of you had negotiated the details of today’s fun after your tryst the night before: materially, you’d get whatever you wanted but you’d have to be on your absolute best sugar baby behavior, meaning no sass, no back talk, and using good manners all day. The professor has quite enjoyed the deal thus far, and hasn’t hesitated to remind you of it every time a brattish look colors your expression. You’d been good though… mostly.

“Careful, little one. I’d hate to have to take you back early and remind you of the rules before you got to pick out something to wear tonight.” 

“What? All I said was that you’re an old-”

“I know my babygirl isn’t going to make the same mistake twice, is she?”

“Erm-I mean no, sir. Sorry, Daddy.” 

For the actual sex itself, you’d gone over the terms, bondage, and acts you both were comfortable with since you wanted a more intense scene than your usual. You made sure to ask what aftercare Boba wanted for the same reason: you’d read about dom-drop and wanted to avoid it at all costs, especially since your boyfriend is being so solicitous of your fantasies. The overwhelming amount of unspoken love in his eyes after you asked him nearly brought tears to your own, even more so when all he requested is to hold you skin to skin in a warm bath—Boba Fett is truly a man like no other. 

You give yourself one last once over in the floor length mirror before parting the dressing room curtains to step into the private viewing room. Boba’s eyes go wide when he looks up to see you standing there: you’re a vision of rosy temptation, ready, willing, and wrapped up in a bow just for him. His hand brushes over his crotch and you spin around so he can see just how much of your ass is not left to the imagination. 

Peeking over your shoulder with big doe eyes, you flash him a dazzling smile. “I really like this set, I think it might just be the one.”

He wets his parted lips with a slow tongue, his eyes sable and voracious as they rake over you. “Oh really now, princess? How about you come over here and show Daddy just why you like it so much.” 

Biting your lip, you bend slowly, pushing out your tits even more as you slip on the red bottoms he’d got you and saunter over to where he’s seated on the plush couch. With your hands on the curves of your hips, you lightly kick his feet wider apart so you can step between his open thighs. He allows it, amber flames dancing in his irises as he watches you preen under his gaze—there’s nothing like his little angel to bring his hellfire to the surface.  

Hooking your thumbs under the bra’s dainty straps, you pull them out a bit and slowly slide your hands down as you keep eye contact with him. “See, sir,” you murmur with a silky voice, “I like the little bows… the ribbons…” When the backs of your thumbs slide over your nipples on their path downward, your eyes slide shut at the sensation. “Mmmph, I like the pretty lace, too.” You release your fingers and slide your palms slowly down your waist; when you feel the garter belt, your eyes flutter open.

Boba’s jaw is clenched and his eyes locked onto where the tips of your middle fingers have come to lazily trace the heart cut-outs just above your hip bones. The skin over his knuckles is stretched tight as he balls his hands into fists on his thighs, the buttons of his crisp shirt are straining from the depth of his breathing. 

“I like these little hearts,” you continue, your tone dropping to sultry smoke as your fingers slip down to the panties, “and this cute bow…” Your dominant hand slithers farther between your legs to stroke over the thin material covering your folds while your other hand finds its way back up your torso to knead your breast. “O-oh, and I… I-I like how these panties feel over Daddy’s little pussy.” Your own breath shakes with your arousal and your head tips back, exposing the smooth length of your throat, liquid heat pumping under your pulse point. 

A ragged curse slips from Boba’s lips and it makes your entire body tremble; you’re unraveling this masterpiece of a man thread by thread without so much as the whisper of a touch. The taste of power is thick on your tongue—he might be in charge, but he is still a man at a woman’s mercy. 

Your fingers slide under the waistband to pull the lower garment up so that it sinks into your slit and your lips spill over the sides. “B-but most of all, sir,” you rasp, bobbing your head back forward to stare directly into his yearning soul, “I like how much it makes you want to fuck me.”

The earth stops spinning for a heartbeat as his pupils blow out to eclipse his umber eyes. “Put your fucking dress back on, princess,” Boba orders roughly, “because the second I’m finished paying, I’m leaving with you in that, covered up or not.”

You do as you’re told, making sure to toss a cheeky wink at the silently judgemental sales clerk on the way out, and another one to the amused woman behind the hotel desk as Boba guides you with a firm hand on your hip up to the penthouse suite he booked for the night. You can practically smell the ozone of the imminent storm that’s been building between the two of you since the night before—all that’s left is to pierce his dark cloud and be washed away down to your most primal being in the tempest of his desire.

No sooner is the room’s door shut then you throw yourself into the howling winds of lust that have been tearing through bones all day. There’s no time to admire how stunning the suite is, not when his hands and lips are on you with a bruising, burning passion that might as well be a force of nature. For a few minutes there’s only him and the sensations he elicits, a wild and unrestrained fervor that almost convinces you that you’ll get away with having him easy. 

Of course, once the eye of the storm swirls around the pair of you, that flimsy hope is banished when Boba draws back from your kiss. “Hey, easy now, babygirl. I need you to listen so we can start.”

The way his glossy, kiss-swollen lips form around his words threatens to derail your focus completely, but you swallow down your fervor as best you can; you won’t get what you truly want if you don’t check in with him first. You squeeze your eyes shut in a hard blink. “I’m… I’m listening,” you rasp, your voice already ragged at the edges.

“Good girl,” he praises gently, brushing his lips on your forehead. “The role play we talked about last night still what you want to do? Any changes you want to make?” His right hand comes up to massage the tension in your neck.

Your heart is pumping hot and ready in your chest, it’s all you can do not to grind your thigh into his very obvious erection. You can’t look at him, not when he’s too tempting with his earth-warmed eyes and sun-colored features. Burying your face into his neck, you sound an affirmative from the safety of your favorite spot.

A cimmerian chuckle rumbles in his warm chest. “You’re so ready, aren’t you, pretty baby? I know, I know. Tell me about the stoplight system we talked about yesterday and I’ll make all your dirty little dreams come true.”

“Green means good, yellow means slow down and check in, red means stop like our safeword and three taps,” you rattle off without hesitation, curling your fingers into his shirt over and over again as electric anticipation crackles through your nerves. You’re embarrassingly wet and Boba hasn’t even done anything yet… Maker help you when he does.

He presses a kiss into your hair, guiding your head up to look into your eyes. “That’s my smart girl,” he beams, the edges of his eyes crinkling, “Now remember, we’re checking in again before the actual sex since this is our first time doing a scene like this.” Accepting your nod of understanding, he asks if you’re ready to start.

“Fucking stars above, yes, I’m ready!”

[start of consensual non-consent]

It’s like a whole new man materializes before your very eyes, one with lurid intentions and inescapable demands as the gentle hand on the back of your neck comes to settle possessively around your throat. “Well then, princess, it looks like you have some debts to settle with me,” he informs you, his canines flashing in a wolfish smile.

Your game has only just begun and the thrill of your vulnerability has your pulse jumping under his thick fingers. You blink at him with wide, innocent eyes, playing along. “But Daddy, what debts? I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Boba tuts, the sound lush with false sympathy, his eyebrow arching up in a cruel look. “You think all those pretty things I got you just come for free, little one? That there would be nothing taken in return?” His words are followed by a greedy handful of your ass that crushes you against his chest and makes his belt buckle dig uncomfortably into your soft stomach.

“W-what do you mean?” you whimper, squirming and ensnaring yourself further into his trap, “I-I thought you bought me all those things because you l-love me.” Offering up a flowery smile, you paw at his chest in an effort to ward off his perverse intentions, your heart hammers out danger against your ribs. It pushes you towards fight or flight, but your self-preservation is no match for your fatal attraction.

“Love?” he scoffs viciously, icing out your budding attempt to sway him, “Who said anything about love, sweetheart? Is that what you think this is, is that what you’ve been filling your pretty head with?” His fingers twitch around your throat and your lip starts to tremble pitifully. “Aww, poor baby,” he mocks with a sardonic smile, his hand releasing its grip on your neck so his thumb can roll down your quivering lip. “You gonna cry about it?”

Maybe it’s your latent instincts actually kicking in, or maybe you’re just that much of a brat, but either way you’re not going to let this man get away with everything, especially in that tone of voice. Jutting your head forward, you bite down on this thumb and shove your hands between your bodies to push away from him. You manage to turn and take a harried step towards the other side of the room before you’re roughly snatched back by the hair. Yelping at the sudden sharp pain in your scalp, your hands flying up in an attempt to free yourself.

“Oh no you don’t,” Boba hisses, ignoring your pained protests as he pulls your back against his body, locking his arm around your waist.

You struggle and kick at his shins, doing your best to escape the much stronger man. As sweat beads along your brow and your muscles begin to burn with exertion, you realize far too late that he’s just letting you tire yourself out. “Let… me… go!” you demand with the last of your strength, slamming the ball of your foot down onto his shoe.

Boba sucks in a sharp breath and you know you’re fucking in for it now just from that sound alone, your thighs pressing together against throb between them. “You done now? Made your point?” he asks with a dangerous amount of calm, his voice as still as the sea before a storm. “Because the harder you fight, the rougher I’ll have to be, sweetheart.”

That should not be as hot as it fucking is. His threat has the twin flames of arousal and fear burning you alive from the inside out, your opposing desires for mercy and ruin warring within your chest. “No, wait! I’m sorry," you plead, "Please don’t hurt me, I-I promise I’ll be good!” You sniffle and do your best to well some tears in your eyes, wanting to make your performance as good as your boyfriend’s. “I’ll do anything you want, just… please!”

Boba bites down into the soft flesh of your shoulder and you have to stifle a moan. His hand in your hair loosens fractionally, allowing you enough movement to give him access to your neck, which he greedily claims with harsh kisses. “Anything you say? But princess,” he taunts, his breath hot on your damp skin, “you were already going to give me whatever I want… you know why?”

Heart in your throat, you choke on your own lust-fueled words so that all you can do is shake your head in the negative. His absolute dominance and your prurient desire are melting away the last of your reason and restraint, especially when his lips find that sensitive spot just below your ear. Alternating between sucking his mark into your skin and muttering into your ear, he continues in a coarse, strident tone. “Because I own you. From the top of your pretty head down to all ten of your princess toes, you’re mine. You’re Daddy’s girl and you’re going to do just as he says… isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

As sinfully delightful as all this feels, Boba is way too smug for your liking. The wheels turning in your head are spinning furiously to come up with another escape plan to further provoke him and draw out your game. Grinding your ass back against his crotch, you sigh and go loose like you’ve given up, even letting a few small moans slip past your lips for good measure. Boba takes the bait—and truthfully, you think about taking it too—releasing your hair and hips so he can grope your tits.

Now!

Forcing all the air from your lungs, you slide down out of his grasp, stumbling a bit in your high heels but making out of his reach all the same. Boba growls and you can feel the flurry of air as he makes to grab you again, but you duck and manage to dodge him. Heart pounding in your ears, you make a run for the next room, hitting the lights so they go dark. Panting, you lean against the wall next to the door to suck in a lungful of air only to have it knocked right back out of you a second later when you’re slung over his strong shoulder.

You howl in dismay at being caught so soon, kicking and pounding on Boba’s back as he hauls you over to the king-size bed. He asks for your color and you answer “green,” to which he squeezes your hip affectionately before falling back into character. “You sneaky little brat, you really thought you could get away from me?” he laughs cruelly, slapping your ass with a stinging palm. He reaches the bed in a few strides and tosses you onto the mattress like you weigh nothing. 

It makes you gush, your pleasure in your core already beginning to tighten as your ass cheek prickles and burns. Head spinning and vision blurred at your sudden change in position, you scramble up the sheets to put distance between the two of you in a final desperate attempt to elude the man you so desperately want to catch you.

“You got a tight little cunt and a warm little mouth that will pay off your debt nicely. There’s no point in fighting it, sweetheart,” he continues to taunt, his fingers unbuttoning his shirt with practiced ease, “Might as well enjoy it, because you’re not getting out of it.” He discards his shirt, his tattoos gleaming in the sunlight peeking in through the windows; he’s as handsome and dark as a panther about to pounce on its prey. 

In all your haste, you’ve tangled yourself in the bedclothes well within his reach, and the wet heat slicking the inside of your thighs and underwear is bleeding the fight from you. That’s not going to stop me from giving this old man a run for his money… literally, you smile to yourself. You have one more trick up your sleeve but you don’t have much time with the way Boba is prowling toward you with the ease of someone at the top of the food chain. 

“W-what are you going to do to me?” you whimper, doing your best to distract him from the fact you’re untangling your foot. 

He gives you a chilling smile. “Oh, little princess,” he husks with a tantalizing, twisted heat, “I think you know exactly what I’m going to do to you.” 

He leans down to grab you, but you pull your knee up to catch him in the center of his chest with your designer heel. Boba’s expression flashes with wicked desire at the challenge, a hungry smirk turning up his lips. “Fast little thing, aren’t you?” he grunts in pleased surprise, locking his grip around your ankle, “Won’t save you though. I like my girls with some fight in ‘em.” His brown eyes are blown so wide with lust that they’re an abyss of black—maybe even a shade darker. In a flash, he snatches up your other ankle and yanks you back down the mattress, riding your dress up and rubbing your skin hot from the friction.

“No, no, no! Please, no!” you cry out, kicking your legs uselessly as his eyes zero in on the damp fabric nestled at your apex. No matter how much you pretend you don’t want this, you can’t hide your traitorous arousal.

Ignoring your pleas, Boba forces his way between your thighs, shoving his crotch against yours and making you gasp a moan. “Stop fighting,” he warns, crowding into your prone space, “I know you want this, dirty girl, you’re fucking soaked. Quit with the dramatics and Daddy will give you everything you want, just like he did earlier when he bought you all those nice things.” His hips grind into your center enticingly, accenting his offer.

You whimper and give a final kick before falling still, your only movement the heaving of your chest. Your blood is hot and torrid in your veins and sweat slicks your skin; you couldn't escape him even if you really wanted to and it burns you up. Knotting your fingers into the bedspread, you dig in your nails to keep from reaching for him—you’re enjoying your game far too much to give in and let it end now.

“Promising to spoil you makes you give it up quick, huh?” he smirks, kissing up to your ear, his right hand releasing your ankle to skate up to your damp panties. “Yeah, I know this is what you want. You want Daddy fuck you senseless in all the pretty things he bought for you, don’t you? To be his sweet little baby he uses however he wants? You can admit it, princess, you don’t have to pretend for my benefit.”

“Fuck you!” you spit back, knowing it would seal your fate. “I’m not some whore you can buy off and screw!”

[end of consensual non-consent]

Boba has the gall to laugh directly in your face. “That’s not what your panties are telling me. In fact,” he pauses to fish something out his pants pocket, “They’re telling me that if I make a little deposit… you’ll let me do whatever I want to you without a single complaint.” Before you can even ask, he pops the rubber band off a half-inch thick stack of hundred dollar bills with one hand. Your eyes widen and you clench around nothing, stunned into silence. 

He smirks, his shoulders set and his eyes glinting dark with desire. “Oh, is a few thousand dollars all it took to make you learn some manners?” he mocks. “Of course it is, my filthy girl, you’re spoiled rotten and all mine. Daddy knows how to get you to behave, doesn’t he?” You open and shut your mouth several times but you can’t get your tongue to form any words in your hazy, aroused shock. “Well now, if you’re not going to answer my questions, I might as well put something in that pretty mouth.” Without a moment’s hesitation, he reaches back into his pocket and stuffs his wallet in your open mouth.

All you can do is moan, your eyes rolling back inside your skull as carnal desire overtakes you. Your teeth sink into the buttery-soft material, the tang of leather flooding your taste buds as you writhe on the mattress seeking any sort of friction to quell the overwhelming need in your core.

Boba groans your name, long and deep, the rumble accompanied by the sound of a belt dropping to the floor. Your eyes flutter open to see him stroking his leaking cock with his free hand, his own eyes heavy with desire. “Look at you… so needy and pretty like this. I can’t wait to feel that perfect pussy strangling me.” He gives himself a few more tugs before releasing himself to ease his wallet from your lips, placing it and the money on the nightstand.

A whine sounds in your throat and he shushes you gently, coming back around to massage your thighs. “We have to check in, remember? How’re you feeling, babygirl?” 

Jagged shards of lust lodge themselves into your sweat-slicked skin, sharp and urgent, and every beat of your racing heart continues to pump unrelenting need into veins. “Everything is good, green, just keep going, please!” you beg, your mind spiraling closer to frantic desperation as the coil in your belly begins to unwind.

“Shh, shh,” he eases, stroking your hair back from your damp forehead. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, princess, but this isn’t optional. Do you need help calming down?” he asks in his even, guiding voice. Squeezing your eyes shut as hard as you can, you nod. “Okay, sweet girl, keep your eyes closed. I’m going to move and I want you to sit up. You want a pillow to hold?” 

Nodding again, you roll up to a sitting position, the empty loss of his touch soon soothed by the pillow he places in your arms. Boba praises you gently and guides you through a couple deep breaths and soon the overbearing buzz of desire wanes enough for your muscles to relax. After a few more exhales, you’re able to come back into yourself and you open your eyes, blinking against the sunset filtering in from the tall windows. Boba is standing in front of you, his drawn look of concentration melting into a smile.

“Better now?” he questions. You hum an affirmative in response and reach out a hand. He takes it, stepping closer so he can brush a kiss over your knuckles. “Ready to talk, sweet girl?” Taking a deep breath in and out, feeling your racing pulse slowing; when you’re sure you can focus, you confirm you’re ready. 

Boba sits on the edge of the bed, holding open an arm in invitation knowing that you need the added comfort of his touch during breaks. He waits until you’ve made yourself comfortable in his lap before continuing. “I know how bad you wanted to keep going, princess, so thank you for listening and being honest when I asked if you needed help.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Emotionally intense scenes like this one can be much different in real life than in our heads… sometimes it can catch up with you all at once and become overwhelming in a bad way. I want to give my little princess everything she wants, but I can’t do that unless I know everything’s alright up here,” he says, kissing the side of your head.

 “I understand, Boba, that’s why we have our rules and discussions to keep us safe.”

A warm smile spreads across his handsome face. “That’s exactly right, my smart girl. Now that things are calmer, how’re you feeling about everything? Anything that made you uncomfortable or want to change before we continue?”

Wrapping your arms around his torso, you hug him as tight as you can; Boba is everything to you and you want him to feel it in the strength of your arms and the beat of your heart. “I like it, like really, really like it. You’re amazing, all big and bad and mean… you’re so goddamn hot it drives me crazy. Makes me want to rip off all your clothes and ride your co-” 

Boba clears his throat, eyeing you sternly to remind you to stay on track and you snap your jaw shut with a sheepish grin. Rolling your gaze up to the high ceiling, you watch the patterns of the sun’s final light while you ponder his question. You certainly would never dream of acting out this kind of thing with anyone else, that’s for sure; not only because Boba is the only man you trust with such a fantasy, but also because it was precisely that, a fantasy, make believe. It ran so counter to who Boba is and how he treats you—that’s what made it so damn sexy.  

After a few moments of quiet consideration, shake your head. “There’s nothing I didn’t like or want to change. What about you, what did you like?” you ask, turning the question around and snuggling up against his warm chest.

He hums in dark delight, pulling you in tighter to his body. “When you kicked your leg up and got me in the chest, kark, sweetheart,” he puffs out his cheeks, “I almost lost my cool. Wasn’t kidding when I said I like a little fight in my women.” He pinches your ass playfully and you giggle, wriggling away from his fingers.

Sensing things are turning back towards continuing the fun, you twist around to straddle him, though keeping your hips still against his. “Well that’s no secret, professor,” you tease, linking your wrists behind his neck. “Don’t think you’d be with me if you didn’t.”

Running his hands up your sides, Boba’s fingers wrap around the swell of your ribs. “Mmm, I suppose that’s true,” he chuckles with a wry grin. When you ask him about any dislikes, he shakes his head, but there’s a caveat in his deep set eyes. “I’m enjoying it all and I definitely want to do it again, but…” He trails off, his brow furrowing in that pensive look he got when he’s trying to string together words to describe his feelings. You know it’s still a new practice for him, so you wait patiently, tracing little shapes on the nape of his neck. “But, not every time,” he concludes after a few moments.

Setting your forehead against his, you mumble in agreement, “But not every time.” You have a feeling you know why, not that you wanted it every time either, but that is a discussion for another day. For now, you would tuck it away in your heart. “Boba?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Thank you,” you smile, big and genuine, hoping he can feel all the emotion and gratitude behind your words, “For everything, for all of this. You’re amazing.” Pulling back, you capture his face between your hands so you can place a languid kiss on his beautiful lips. “I love you.” 

The way he always seems so surprised and hungry to hear those words is as endearing as it is heartbreaking; he should’ve heard that sentiment more often in his life.

“I… you,” he stammers, his usual stability thrown off.

“Shh shh,” it’s your turn to soothe, giving him another kiss, “I know.” You both hold the golden glow of affection between your bodies, warm and safe, for a few peaceful minutes, silently basking in its rays. When Boba begins to shallowly roll his hips against yours, a grin lights across your face. “If you’re ready, Daddy, I think there’s something your babygirl needs finished.”

“Oh, yes I think there is,” he agrees, nipping at the plush of your bottom lip with a devious grin. Sliding his hands under your thighs, he hoists you up with him as he stands to walk the pair of you to the long side of the bed. “Why don’t we get rid of this,” he suggests, tilting his chin down at your dress, “so Daddy can get a good look at his sugar baby all dressed up.”

He lets you down on your feet and you happily oblige his request, sliding the dress off your curves and tossing it in the direction of his clothes. The heat of his gaze as it rakes down your body is enough to brand your skin and reignite the coals flickering in your core. Brushing your hands over your tits and waist, you admire how the red lingerie flatters your form—as well as the effect it has on Boba. 

“Well,” you drawl slow and saccharine, batting your lashes, “if I’m not getting out of this terrible debt, I suppose I might as well enjoy it like you said.” As you echo his previous words, you sink back onto the bed behind you, spreading your legs wide. As one hand traces over your nipple peeking through the lace, your other one follows Boba’s hungry eyes down to the wetness staining your panties.

Your fingers dip under the damp fabric and swipe through the copious amount of slick coating your folds before coming up to breach the seam of your lips. “You make me so fucking wet, Daddy…” you moan, hollowing your cheeks, you softly moan as you suck the tang from your digit. Trailing your spit-cleaned fingers down your chin back towards your cunt, you simper up at him. “Wanna taste?”

Boba groans, his slitted gaze trained on your mouth as he smears pearled precum over his stiff length. “Oh, sweetheart, there’s a lot of things I want from you.” He enters your space, taking your jaw into his large hand. “Like this hot little mouth, for starters.”

Humming and blinking big blowjob eyes at your boyfriend, you grin and stick your tongue all the way out, tilting your head back for full effect. The air whooshes from Boba’s lungs in a debauched sound and the muscle in his neck twinges as his jaw clenches. “Such a sweet little angel when she wants to be…” he murmurs under his breath, almost to himself, collecting a leaking drop on his thumb to deposit on your waiting tongue. 

The salty taste of him has the coil of your release forming in your belly once again, salacious and hot. You lean forward to lap up more of his delicious taste, alternating between kitten licks and suckling at his tip while Boba continues to pump his shaft. Being the greedy little thing that you are you soon become unsatisfied with what small bit he’s allowing you—so you ask for more.

“Please, I want more,” you whine with a pout, “I want all of it.”

“Careful what you wish for, princess.”

You were, in fact, not careful for what you wished for and quickly became quite the little mess. Ravaged and ruined, and spoiled by the enjoyment of his cock down your throat as he clasped a diamond necklace around your neck. Your knees are now raw, hair wild, and your makeup is running down your cheeks. You’re a complete wreck.

You fucking love it.

Boba is standing over your kneeled form, gloriously naked and slowly stroking his dick that’s lubricated by a generous coating of your saliva. The dark look in his brown eyes and viperous grin send a shiver of arousal down your spine. “This is all you’re fucking good for isn’t it, sweetheart, spending my money and sucking my cock? Kriff, I think you like being a little slut as long as it gets you what you want.”

You blink up at Boba’s broad frame through clumped lashes. “Well, what can I say? We are living in a material world and I am a material girl,” you grin with puckish charm. You shimmy your shoulders just enough so that your tits jiggle and the light catches the trails of spit that have begun to dry on your neck and chest. You’d long given up your innocent act for your usual bratty self.

Boba huffs in amusement, rolling his eyes. “Do the jokes cost me extra?”

“Seeing how your dick’s not in me,” you reply blithely, “they absolutely do.”

You don’t even have time to pout before he snatches your face up in a tight grip, his thumb and fingers digging deep into your cheeks. “You really are a greedy little thing,” he chuckles, turning your head from side to side to appreciate the way the jeweled necklace sitting on your chest glitters in the low light. Hot arousal streaks through you, leaving shimmering trails of lust in your veins.

You try to shake off his hand but he only pushes his fingers in father. “There’s only one thing to do with greedy brats… you know what that is, sweetheart?” he asks with poisonous condescension. You glower up at him, unable to speak through his grip. “It’s to fuck it right out of them. You want more? I’ll give you more. I’ll give it to you until you’re begging and crying for me to stop, and then you know what?” Boba crouches down, resting his warm cheek against your burning one to hiss into your ear. “I’ll stuff those pretty panties in your mouth and keep going.”

The strangled groan that sounds in your throat is unlike anything you’ve ever made as you push out your chest to get closer to him. You’d give anything for him to fulfill that threat of promise because when he gets like this, it means you’re getting the fucking of a lifetime. Watching Boba as he fucks you is a treat in of itself, but witnessing that galaxy-stopping moment where he slips into that all-powerful, unshakable dom state? A truly indescribable delicacy.

Boba releases your jaw, yanking you up by your shoulders and roughly shoving you back on the bed. “You really are a dirty little whore,” he sneers, his lips quirking to a self-satisfied smirk, “begging for me fuck you to tears while you taste yourself. You’re lucky I’m in such a generous mood, princess, because you are absolutely ruined for anyone else.”

And the Maker knows it's true. “Daddy,” you whine, opening your legs wide in invitation, “please, I want you inside me so bad, please fuck me!” Boba likes to hear you beg and you’re all too happy to do it when it gets you what you so desperately want.

He looms over to you, his shoulders set and his eyes glinting dark with desire. “You finally learned some manners, have you? Figured out good little girls get more of Daddy’s money than bad ones?” He’s toying with you now. You both know what you really want: to have him filling you up over and over on a pile of the money he has stacked neatly on the nightstand where he left it. 

Truthfully, you’d do anything he asked at this point anyway—all this sugar daddy play has you step away from selling your soul just for a single stroke of his thick, perfect cock. You suppose it wouldn’t kill you to stroke his ego a little more if it speeds the process along. “Oh yes, sir, I’ve got it all figured out,” you answer agreeably, a picture of sweet submission, “I’ll be so, so good if you fuck me, I promise.”

“I bet you will, sweetheart,” he chuckles with a glint of mischief, “now that Daddy’s got you so well trained.” He’s testing you, seeing if you can keep up your obedient act, his dark eyes sparkling in challenge. When you swallow back your snarky response for a genteel smile, he relents. “Go put the heels back on and crawl back to me,” he commands, scooping up the stack of bills.

Scalding heat flashes through your body to settle between your thighs at his order, mixing with the excitement of finally having him inside your aching cunt. You jump up and eagerly hurry around the other side of the bed where you’d shed your shoes earlier. After slipping them back on your feet, you settle onto all fours and make your way across the expanse of the large bed, keeping your lust-dark eyes fixed on his own. 

The luxe bedding pools coolly between your fingers, the raw skin of your knees skimming pleasantly over the material; when you reach him, he caresses your face in a moment of tender affection. Before you can lean too far into his warmth, however, it’s over: he yanks down your bra and stuffs wads of bills into it. Wasting no time, he spins you around to continue slipping money under the edges of your lingerie, layering in a few bright slaps to your ass as he covers you in his paper wealth.

Your ears and cheeks are aflame by just how fucking dirty he’s treating you: like you’re a set of holes to be bought. It sets off a goddamn waterfall between your legs and you know he can see the slick starting to spill down your thigh—Boba Fett has corrupted you totally and completely, and kark if you couldn’t be more grateful for it.

“Look at you,” he goads, shoving a hand between your shoulder blades to force your front down and ass up, “such a greedy little whore, fucking dripping from just a bit of Daddy’s money.” He’s begging to be tested, pushing and prodding you for a reaction. Boba likes your submission, yes, but he wants to earn it, wrestle it out of you. He craves a challenge and you’re his favorite one, his perfect, bratty little match.

He slaps the blunt head of his cock against your ass and notches himself at your entrance. Just as he’s about to push in to feel that first bit of your sinful heat, you bow up your back so he slips out. “Ah ah ah,” you crane over your shoulder, smirking up at his genuine look of surprise, “I might be a whore but I’m not a cheap one. Don’t think that just because you can lay down some good dick that I’m going to give you a discount on this million dollar pussy. Finish paying up, old man.”

Boba grins like the devil, barking a sharp laugh. “Fuck, you’re so in for it, little girl. You and that kriffing attitude.”

You wink, jiggling your ass just out of his dick’s reach. “Aww, I know you like it when I misbehave, that’s why I do it just for you, Daddy,” you tease in a sing-song voice.

“I know it’s just for me, naughty princess, ‘cause no one else is ever gonna treat you this good or fuck you like I can.” Boba starts thumbing bills off his stack so they flutter and twirl like autumn leaves, landing around you. “So tell me when I get to enough, sweetheart.”

Biting down hard on your lip, you let the hundreds fall for a couple seconds until you can’t stand to be empty of him any longer. “That’s a start, but don’t get stingy on me.”

“Behave and take my cock like a good little princess and I won’t,” he retorts smugly. Tugging your hips back flush against the furnace of his skin, he smooths a roughened hand up your spine to massage your neck. Then, more gently, he requests, “Tell me what you do to make things stop, babygirl.”

“Kamino or three taps anywhere,” you answer dutifully, doing your best not to wriggle and grind against him while he checks in, your desire to have him inside you just barely kept in check.

Pleased, Boba hums and places a quick kiss to your shoulder blade. “Good girl. Because I’m not stopping for anything else, not when… fuck, when I can smell how much you want it.” Grinding against your thigh, he fills his hands with the globes of your ass. “Now, let Daddy see his pussy.”

How can you deny him when his voice is pure honey, sinful and spiced with everything you could possibly dream of? Sliding forward and widening your knees, you put yourself on full display for him, arching your back in a seductive curve. You’re rewarded with a deep, throaty groan from your professor and two quick slaps across both your cheeks that quickly dissolve into tingling pleasure. 

Pulling your ruined panties to the side, Boba groans again. “You’re so beautiful, so perfect…” he traces your curves reverently, bending to lavish pious kisses your dimples of Venus. “Fuck, I’m gonna tear this little pussy up... I'm gonna do it just how you like it,” he promises, his deep voice scraped with desire. 

Your response is snatched from your throat when he enters your dripping heat a second later. Gasping and cursing at the sheer girth of him splitting you open with each rut of his hips, you bury your face into the duvet, your eyes rolling back into your head. The sinful stretch burns you from the inside out in the most gut-clenching, obscenely delicious way that all you can do is moan into the mattress. By the faint sounds making it through the thick haze of pleasure fogging your brain, it sounds like Boba is fairing about the same as you are.

“Fucking kark,” he pants through gritted teeth, “Always s-so tight and wet.” He snaps his hips in the final way, making you both exclaim in pleasure; it feels like he’s throbbing in your damn throat. “Ready, pretty baby?”

Turning your head so he can hear you, your response comes out as a desperate warble. “More, please, more, you feel so fucking good!”

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart, Daddy’s gonna spoil his little princess, gonna fuck her full of his cum just how she likes.” His free hand grips your opposite hip so he can pull you back into the roll of his thrusts. “‘Cause that’s what you really want, isn’t it? To be so full of me that you can’t take a single step without remembering who owns this pussy, who takes care of you and makes you feel this fucking good?”

You’re already losing your mind, all the build up of your fantasy and your extreme angle making it so his tip is kissing that perfect spot deep inside you already. Throwing a hand behind you, you curl your fingers into the bouncing flesh of your ass to spread yourself farther, desperate for more of him deeper, faster, harder. You feel the feather-light touch of more money brushing your skin as it rains down on your back, making the well of desire inside you roil and churn as you bear down on him. “W-wanna see, wanna see… please,” you beg, unable to form any more of the necessary words, your brain melting from the blood boiling in your veins.

“Does my little girl want to watch Daddy’s money while he fucks her? Hmm? Tell me.”

Part of you wants to continue bratting, summon the last of your strength from some hidden cavern within you to bite back at him, come up with some scalding quip to throw in his face. A larger part of you, however, wants to delight in everything his dominance has to offer, revel in the way Boba can fuck and make love at the same time. “Yes, sir, please, sir!”

You’re on your back, legs over his shoulders, with his dick sinking back into you before you even fully register him pulling out. He gives your clit a few sharp smacks with the remainder of the cash in his hand before he starts flicking it out over you again, making you cry out in ecstasy. “Aw, you like this, sweet girl? You like how I treat my pretty princess?”

You’re already on pleasure’s cusp, waiting to ascend into its unholy heavens when he leans forward to hear your answer, hitting your g-spot perfectly and making your insides bloom with the heat of release. “Oooohh fuck yes, r-right there!” you cry, throwing your head back into the downy mattress, “Please don’t stop, t-this is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me!”

“Not yet it’s not,” Boba chuffs between grunts, reaching over to the bedside table. Before you can utter the first sound of protest or question, Boba slings the rest of the bills onto your heaving chest and stuffs his wallet back into your open mouth. Your pleasure snaps so tight at the familiar taste of the leather that you scream around the makeshift gag. He immediately starts rubbing wet, slippery circles on your clit. “That’s it, this is what’s gonna make you come, isn’t it, pretty baby?”

Time slows down, or maybe even stops, stretching out into oblivion on either side of you, divided by this infernal ecstasy Boba is pounding into soul. Tears of pleasure spill out of the corners of your eyes and you can’t seem to catch your breath before his thrusts force it from your lungs again; all you can do is moan some semblance of a response around his wallet and take him deeper into your waiting walls.

That’s when it happens, that subtle shift that brings Boba into that raw, glorious version of himself where he is the master of your twin universes, all-powerful and all-mighty. It’s in the set of his jaw, the snap of hips, and the inky depths of his eyes that it happens, where your energies fall into flawless, seraphic balance. You become two halves of the same whole as he gives and you take, as he pushes and you pull in unspoken harmony. You’ve never had a religious experience, but at the risk of blasphemy, you think this is what one must feel like.

Where else would the divine exist except at the meeting of two souls?

You’re blubbering what you can of his name over and over as your one and only prayer, knowing that your devotion would reap all that it sowed. It’s so much, it’s all so terribly, perfectly much: the pressed open stretch of your ankles over his shoulders, the impossible fullness of his cock inside you, the force of his powerful hips—you need something to hold you against his unrelenting tide. Releasing the sheets, you throw your right hand over your head, curling and uncurling it to tell Boba you wanted his hand in yours.

“I got you, cyare, I got you,” he assures between ragged pants, leaning down to redistribute his weight to interlace his fingers with yours. He shoves his other hand under your hips to adjust your angle and you arch up with a cry when he hits that spot dead on. You know he can feel it too, his eyes screwing shut against the overwhelming pleasure. “Fuck, baby, you feel s-so good, you’re taking me so well. I-I know you’re close, beautiful. Spoil Daddy and come for me… strangle my cock w-with that perfect cunt. Come on, sweetheart, l-let go and let me feel you.” 

You’d do anything for him, anything: fight off his many demons, kiss away all his pain, and protect his heart until your dying breath. Coming on his perfect dick when he sucked your nipple between his teeth was the least you could do, right after being his little angel who took every last drop of his cum when he pumped it into you a few bruising thrusts later. Rutting and cursing, Boba rides out both your orgasms, prolonging your combined pleasure until his muscled arms begin to shake with the effort of holding both you and him up. 

Blissed out and impossibly, wonderfully content, you enjoy watching how Boba’s dark eyebrows knit together and how his pretty lips form around his little pants as he comes down from his high. When his eyes finally flutter open again, they’re the luscious color of exotic wood polished and shining in the tropical sun—he’s so beautiful all you can do is stare and appreciate the wonder that is Professor Boba Fett.

Gazing lovingly down at you, Boba smiles softly and removes his wallet from your mouth so he can sprinkle sparkling kisses all over your face. “My beautiful, perfect girl,” he coos between the brushes of his lips on your skin, “my sweet, precious babygirl.” Without pulling out, he rolls the two of you over so you’re resting on his chest, your arms wrapped around his neck and your head tucked under his chin.

You slowly come back to your senses together, wrapped in one another’s warmth, easy and unhurried. Saving your post-scene debrief for your bath later, you lazily trace over the ink decorating Boba’s chest, over the slopes and planes of his pectorals and ribs, while he massages your back and shoulders. Much to your dismay, he has to slide out of you so you can sit up and drink some water; he just feels so good, so right inside your velvet walls that you never want him to leave you empty.

Setting down your water bottle after draining its cool contents, you pick up one of the hundreds scattered around the bed, now curious in your orgasmic glow. Holding it up to the light, you curse and sit up when you see the watermark through it. “Kriffing kark! Are all these real?!” you exclaim, shocked at your discovery. You hadn’t dwelled on the details during your romp in the sheets, but now that you're more clear headed, it dawns on you just how much money is in your presence.

Boba watches with open amusement as you repeat your test a few more times to find that the other hundreds in your reach are indeed genuine. “Why wouldn’t they be?” he questions with an impish smile, “I only get the best for my babygirl.” He’s smirking, doing his best to stifle a laugh at your obvious amazement.

Smug, wonderful, sexy bastard, you grumble to yourself, shoving at his shoulder. “Quit laughing at me and get in the bathroom, old man,” you order with mock annoyance, “I’m sucking your dick as soon as you can get it up again, and maybe even before then if you’re lucky.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, still chuckling as he swings his legs off the bed. “Order us some room service and I’ll be all ready for you to choke on.” He winks and you roll your eyes as you head towards the room phone. “Oh, and say whatever you want, princess,” he throws over his shoulder, “but no one's ever made you wetter or come harder than this old man.” 

Damn if it’s not true, you think with a shrug and a smile—not that you’re going to tell him that, not yet anyways. Looking over the menu placed next to the handset, a warm feeling of contentment washes over you pleasantly, like sunny waves lapping at your mind’s shore. Fucked, filled, and happy with the man of your dreams, you can’t imagine it gets better than this.

MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS

cyare - beloved, love

<Part V

#i have no shame #i want to be this mans mf princess #zwei writes #fanfic #ex libris fic #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfic #boba fett smut #boba fett fanfiction #professor!boba fett #professor boba fett #professor au #star wars fanfiction

[thegalaxys-edge]

full hearts

The Bad Batch x GN!Reader (pre- established relationship, reader is referred to as Doc)

a/n: i started writing this 5 months ago and finally got around to finishing it. really i just want to give these boys forhead kisses and ramen, so this is that. ⋆˙⟡♡

sum: after a long mission, you decide to cook the Batch a good meal (pre o66)

warnings: none, just fluff :)

wc: 4k

-✰- reblogs are appreciated! -✰-

You sigh, depositing your small duffle at the entrance as the door slides shut; sagging your body back, you rest your head on the durasteel behind you, letting it cool your mind and the headache pounding at your temples. 

The apartment is fairly warm and midafternoon sunlight gleams through the small window, heating a well worn, second hand couch. It isn't much and it’s far from luxurious, but the small throw blankets and odd wall decorations made it feel like home.

You’d honestly meant to be back yesterday when you got in from a long series of missions as the field medic with Clone Force 99, but a quick, frantic call from a friend in the medical center had those plans changing rapidly. Instead of catching up on sleep (that you desperately needed), you ran to pick up two shifts, working from the late hour of night when you arrived until noon the next day, when a supervisor insisted you take some time off. And then you stayed another two hours. 

Removing yourself from your slumped position on the wall, you haphazardly drag your duffle and gear to one of the two bedrooms in the apartment and sling it onto a low-to-the-floor, but quite comfortable, bed.

The apartment was actually one you shared- as if anyone could afford to live on Coruscant alone, even in the mid-levels. Your other three roommates are a few field medics who you’d met in basic training, before you each got paired with your individual squads, and currently they are all off-world on separate assignments. In a way it’s disappointing to come home to a completely empty space, but right now you welcome the silence.

Your bed is calling your name after having no sleep in maker-knows how long, but the stronger part of your mind tells you that you need a shower and food desperately. 

You grab a set of clean civvies and head to the ‘fresher to scrub the dirt and dust and blood of the last mission from your skin. The soft smelling soap being luxury you dearly missed. 

By the time you feel sufficiently clean (plus several minutes to just enjoy the hot water) you towel off and get dressed, feeling slightly less exhausted and slightly more motivated to grab food. You know without looking that the pantry and chiller will both be near empty, a result of the constant circulation of late-shift workers not wanting to cook and the equal desire to not come back to the smell of spoiled food after a long mission. 

Slipping on socks and a pair of boots, you grab a bag and some credits to head to the nearby market. Ideas of pasta seem to float to the front of your mind as you lock the apartment behind you and walk out of the complex.

The sun is not fully set on Coruscant, leaving the lower area in a dim haze. The air is cooling down, but overall refreshing with a not completely pleasant, but familiar scent. It felt like home, or as close to home as you could have. 

You clutch your bag close under your arm and let yourself focus on the bustle of the city around you. It was very overwhelming when you first moved to Coruscant, with its nearly infinite cityscape and trillions of individuals with their own lives swirling around you, but now your feet move on autopilot with your understanding of the sectors layout, and instead you can enjoy the excitement constantly thrumming in the streets.

In a small gap in the crowd, you spot a familiar color scheme that has you pausing your sure-footed stride. Through the passing bodies, you could spot none other than your squadmates, picking their way past a large group of vendors. You’re almost hesitant to interrupt their time off and instead plan to slip back into the crowd, hopefully unnoticed, when you lock eyes with Hunter, who had been dutifully surveying their surroundings while his brothers were locked in discussion.

You awkwardly raise a hand in greeting and offer him a small smile, which he returns. Seeing the shift in Hunter’s focus quickly grabs the attention of the rest of the squad. Wrecker’s face lights up as he barrels his way through the crowd of pedestrians, who desperately dodge to clear a path for him, and wraps you in a tight hug.

Your hands scramble to find purchase on his shoulders as he lifts you well off the ground and you let yourself tuck your face into his neck to disguise your wide grin. By the time he releases you, you can feel a gentle heat rising in your cheeks, and you let a sly greeting slip out.

“Long time no see, eh?” You calculate it had been roughly 17 standard hours.

Crosshair is, surprisingly, the first to respond.

 “You look well,” he snarks in a tone that clearly teases the opposite. You scoff at his comment, but in all honesty, you probably are a sight to behold right now- haphazardly dressed, hair still damp from the shower, smiling like an idiot in the middle of a Coruscanti market. 

“Maker, thanks Cross-“ you start, unable to stop the laugh bubbling up at the sight of Echo swatting his arm.

“You’re a di’kut, Cross.” 

Said di’kut removed the toothpick that, til recently, resided at the corner of his mouth, and flicked in back at Echo, whose face scrunched into a, frankly adorable, frown.

“So,” Hunter started, clearly over the antics of his brothers, “what are you doing out? Thought you had plans to ‘sleep until our next mission.’” He quoted your last conversation back at you.

Well, that had been the plan. 

“Plans change.” You didn’t need to tell them you haven’t slept since the mission, “What are you doing out?”

“Looking for some good food!” Wrecker burst with a clap on your back.

“That time isn’t it? I'm out for the same thing. Where are you headed?”

“We are currently unsure, most Coruscant establishments are..” Tech hesitated, choosing his words, “Less than welcoming.”

You frown, tamping down the anger that quickly sparked in your chest. You are well acquainted with the prejudice that cropped up in all sectors of the city. Hells, there were more shops allowing droids than clones at this point, and both the GAR and the Senate seem disinclined to stop the blatant discrimination. But falling into a rant about that wasn’t productive right now. You had more than enough experience avoiding discriminatory stalls to know the best food joints that were open to all, and your primary mission shifted to getting these boys some good food. And then your mouth was moving faster than your brain could filter.

“Well I could probably point out a few stands or-“ you paused, catching your words in time. You could cook for them. That seemed too forward. Sure you all got along well, even Crosshair had shifted from outright mean to more lighthearted jeering in your conversations, but that doesn’t mean they’d want to spend their limited time off with you. That, and they’d be in your apartment, which somehow felt quite personal, despite the limited time you spent there. Anxiety twists in your stomach.

“Or?” Tech prompted, clearly not willing to let your sentence end prematurely. The Batch was looking at you expectantly, but there was something else. They looked… happy. Relaxed in a way that you never saw on missions. Maybe you were overthinking it, it would just be dinner, and you trust them to say no if they aren't interested. Besides, with how much work they have over endless missions, it might be nice to enjoy a warm meal.

You purse your lips and summon some courage.

“Well, if you’d like, you could come over to my place and I could cook something up.” You will yourself not to shy away from their gaze. 

“Really!?” Wrecker all but yells, voice overlapping with Hunters' attempt to reject your offer.

“We wouldn’t wanna trouble you, it’s not exactly easy to feed five troopers.”

“It wouldn't be any trouble, I wouldn't have offered if it would be. But if you aren’t interested, I understand, I don't want to impose or anything…”

Hunter studied you for a moment, hand absentmindedly scrubbing the back of his neck; he must have found what he was looking for because he turned to exchange glances with the rest of the squad, each of them giving a subtle nod, barring Wrecker who looked quite eager. He turned back to you, apparently satisfied.

“Well then, what’s for dinner, Doc?”

You grinned at him, letting the nerves shift into excitement.

“Well,” you considered for a moment, “I was thinking ramen would be great.” 

At Hunters’ agreement, Wrecker practically knocks Tech over to lift you up into his arms again. By the time your feet touch the ground, Echo has his lips pursed with concern.

“What is ramen?”

“It is a savory broth and noodle dish served in many stylized ways, often with various meats, proteins, and vegetables,” Tech states, adjusting the rims of his goggles before looking up from his data pad.

You nod in agreement, “I’ll need to pick up a few things, but there's an outdoor market just nearby.”

Falling into a pod-like formation, you lead the group a few streets over, all the while listening to Echo recount some of the worst foods he's suffered through during his time with the 501st, including an especially slimy seafood soup. He concluded that he was not particularly fond of dishes that look back at you.

Together you meander your way through several stores, picking out broth, noodles, a protein that Hunter seemed particularly interested in trying, and various vegetables, all of which Tech was keen on discussing. At some point you linked arms with Echo, who insisted on carrying the grocery bag. 

When all the supplies have been collected, you pick your way back to the apartment complex. It’s a short walk away and all the while you exchange easy conversation with the squad. On missions, you try to stay professional and keep your focus in the way you were taught during basic training, despite the Batch’s often successful attempts at breaking down your walls. However, without the tension of impending injury or death clouding your thoughts, you let yourself relax. 

You point out your building to the group, scanning your key card to get in. A sharp prick of nerves rocks your stomach as you make your way into the lift, dampening the lighthearted mood that had gathered during your time at the market. Logically, there was no reason to worry, after all, you’ve already sacrificed all privacy and personal space when you crowd on the Marauder for missions. That never made you nervous, in fact, you've even teased your squad, mostly Tech, about how you were claiming partial ownership over his pride and joy of a shuttle; but somehow this felt more personal, like you were letting them into a new part of your life. Which, in a way, you were.

Crosshair, having either impeccable timing or just catching onto your nerves, slides an arm to the railing on the opposite side of your body, placing him close behind you, and effectively shifting your mind from any worries you were having to the way he was nearly wrapped around your body. Then, without any warning, he jams his boney fingers into your side, causing you to yelp in surprise. Immediately turning around, you smack your hand into hard plastoid armour and glare up at him. He only shrugs back at you, a smirk playing on his face.

“You’re in your head mesh’la.” You pause for a split second. That nickname was new. 

“Yeah, well you must be out of yours. If you don't keep your hands to yourself, Cross, you won't be eating.” 

He raises his hands in mock surrender as his brothers jeer at him, but the glint in his eye told you he was going to be trouble.

You unlock your apartment, the door sliding open with a hiss, and step aside to let them in. 

“Feel free to make yourselves at home,” you smile and gesture to the open-concept living space and kitchen in a way that is hopefully not as awkward as it feels. 

Echo turns to you, “Mind if we ditch some armour?”

“Of course, go ahead.”

Warmth spreads through your face as they each remove the top half of their armour, Tech retaining his vambraces, and spread out around the room. You try not to let your eyes linger on how their tight fitting blacks cling to their impressively built frames, with limited success.

Quickly pushing that thought from your mind, you grab the controller to switch the holoscreen to the first thing you could find: some cheesy reality dating show. Wrecker sprawls on the couch and lolls his head back, Tech joining him at the opposite side. Crosshair perches on a barstool at the kitchen counter with a good vantage point of both the kitchen and the holo. You quickly shoo Echo away from where he was unpacking the groceries in the kitchen and he joins his brothers on the couch. Hunter saddles up beside you in the kitchen while the others settle in, resting his hand on your back. When you look up at him, you find him already watching you.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” a soft smile slants across his face. 

“‘S more of a mess when my roommates are around.” He nods in understanding, his roommates are a bit of a mess as well.

“Thanks for having us over, Doc.” The sincerity of his gaze sends sparks through your body and you can only hope that his senses don't pick up on the stuttering of your pulse.

“Don't thank me yet, you don't know if the food is any good. It shouldn't take too long, you can go sit down for a bit.”

 He’s probably been just as busy as you since getting back, between mission reports and making sure his brothers were all cared for. For a second it seems like he might protest and insist on helping, but then he gives your waist a quick squeeze and goes to sit in the mismatched chair near the couch.

With the Batch relatively settled, you begin to work on pulling out cookware and heating up the broth in a pot. You give the vegetables a rinse and pull out a knife and chopping board to start cutting, quickly abandoning the task when the broth heats to the correct temperature. With a plan to cook two packages of noodles at a time to maintain a good cooking temperature for the noodles, you start the first batch, before dropping a pad of butter into the pan for the vegetables. You turn to keep chopping, only to see Cross had taken over the task quite dutifully. It was very…domestic. A fuzzy feeling was creeping back through your body at the sight.

Rather than try to move the ridiculously stubborn man back to the couch and ruin a genuinely sweet moment, you just skirt behind him, dragging your hand gently across his shoulder blades and offering a  soft thanks as you gather some of what he's already cut to sauté. You grab a second pan for the meat.

The rest of the cooking is a quick blur of setting out bowls and alternating between cooking and dishing out batches of ramen, setting aside an extra batch for when Wrecker is inevitably still hungry. By the time the last bowl is full, the kitchen is a bit of a mess, but the meal in front of you is nothing short of mouthwatering.

You rap your knuckles twice on the counter closest to the living room, “Dinner!”

The Batch files in, Echo and Tech invested in an almost heated debate over the bachelors in the holo, with Echo vehemently protesting Tech’s pick to win as being shallow and Tech retorting about how his pick obviously had the highest probability of winning, regardless of his shortcomings.

Wrecker seemed to be nearly bursting with joy as he grabs a bowl and you hand him a set of chopsticks. His free arm slings around your shoulders and he drops a kiss to the top of your head, along with a gleeful ‘thank you.’

“There’s also forks on the counter if you’d prefer,” you gesture to where you'd set extra silverware, doubting that any of them had much experience with chopsticks.

The rest of them each follow suit, grabbing bowls and chopsticks and offering you thanks, to which you duck your head in quiet acceptance of their praise.

They all migrate back towards the couch with full bowls, sans Echo, who instead moves to the counter due to his inability to hold the bowl and wield utensils simultaneously. You opt to join him with a bowl of your own.

You scoop a large bite of noodles, almost groaning at the taste, stomach growling in appreciation. You'd nearly forgotten how long it's been since you ate. Both your escapade with the Batch in the market and cooking dinner had taken much longer than the quick dinner you had anticipated having alone. 

Glancing over at Echo, you see him grasping hopelessly at the chopsticks. He met your gaze with an almost guilty grin that told you he was about to make a stupid joke.

“Mind givin’ me a hand?” He raised his scomp-link for emphasis.

Maybe it was the tiredness truly setting in or maybe it was the joy of seeing the usually-tense ARC Trooper letting his guard down, but laughter swelled out of you at the idiocy of a pun you certainly should have seen coming. His smile widened, crinkling the corners of his eyes, which only made you smile to match him, before scooting your stool so you were shoulder-to-shoulder to give him a quick run-down.

Across the room, Tech seemed to have given a similar demonstration about chopstick technique, resulting in Wrecker grabbing one of the forks you had left out to expedite the process of food consumption.

The room was rather quiet, excepting the holoscreen, once everyone became fully invested in their meals. The sun had long since set, and everything was cast in the flashing from the light from the holoshow, as well as the standing lamps around the room, which your roommates all agreed was preferable to the abrasive fluorescent fixtures. Echo and Tech continued to comment on the dating show, with Crosshair chiming in every so often to comment on how ridiculous the whole thing was (though his concentration on the screen revealed he was rather invested). At one point you got up to refill Wreckers bowl and join the rest of the group on the couch with Echo in tow. You end up squeezed between Wrecker and Echo, with Tech on the other side of Wrecker and Cross tucked on the broad arm of the couch. Hunter looked as if he was melting into the armchair.

By the time the episode ended (on an overdramatized cliffhanger), you were almost asleep leaning on Wreckers arm. The bowls gently clink together as Hunter gathers them up to bring into the kitchen. With a yawn, you move to stand and start the dishes but Echo reaches in front of you to prevent you from getting up, meeting your bewildered look with a retort about how you invited them over and cooked and how dishes were ‘the least they could do’. You stammered in response, which Crosshair snorted at, cracking his eyes open and shifting his head from where it was leaned against the wall. He looked exhausted. They all did. 

“At least let me dry!” You raise your voice so Hunter could hear you over the running water, “you don't even know where things go!”

“I believe I could assist with that.” Tech stands, trying and failing to hide his smirk at your losing battle of hospitality.

Meanwhile, Echo enlists Wrecker to keep you from getting up, leaving you with your torso fully wrapped in Wrecker’s arms and your legs draped across Echo’s lap. With no chance of escaping, you resign yourself to lay back into their arms and listen to the sound of Hunter and Tech cleaning up the dishes and the dull chatter of the following episode of the dating show.

When you open your eyes again some time later, Hunter seems rather panicked. His chestplate has been haphazardly reattached and a strong grimace paints his features. 

“Sorry Doc, didn’t realize it was so late,” he shook Crosshair awake, “We’ll be out of your hair and let you get some rest.”

Wrecker and Echo shift to get up, untangling themselves from you. Crosshair waking bearily on the armrest. You stand up too, catching a glance at the chrono displaying half an hour to midnight.

“Are you headed all the way back to the barracks?” You question, almost rhetorically. It seemed ridiculous to trek back across the city this late. You never know what precious limited time there is to sleep before you all ship out for the next mission, but you're certain that the Batch shouldn't have to spend sleeping hours commuting back to uncomfortable bunks. 

“You could just crash here for the night.” Hunter paused from where he was collecting and passing out armour plates.

After an uncomfortable amount of silence, you gesture vaguely to the couch. “It’s a pullout.” The group pauses from the beginnings of reattaching armour plates. “I can grab some spare sheets and blankets, if you don't mind sharing a bed.” A yawn stretches through you, prompting a few more from the group. 

You must have underestimated exactly how tired Hunter is, as instead of politely declining and herding his brothers out like you anticipated, he doesn't even try to argue, nodding slowly in agreement before moving back toward the living room.

Dragging yourself into action, you stretch your limbs high above your head before setting Hunter and Crosshair to figure out the couch while you go in search of extra sheets in the linen closet. You return, handing them off to Tech and Echo before gathering some throw blankets to add to the bedding. 

While your team sets up, you return to your room to change into sweatpants and a sleep shirt. You quickly brush your teeth in the connecting bathroom, then gather what pillows you have on your bed to bring out to the living room.

When you return, the men are all stripped of their remaining armour and left in blacks. The bed is fully made and looks quite cozy, though it will certainly be a tight squeeze. Wrecker crawls in first, settling in the center of the bed with a heavy sigh. Tech follows, leaning in to press a tired kiss on your forehead before crawling to the far side. Echo settles in between Tech and Wrecker, while Cross moves to Wrecker’s other side. Their movements are practiced, as if they had done this a hundred times before. It was quite likely that they had, with time in the field and on Kamino providing little other comfort.

Hunter flips off the lights before slipping an arm around your waist and leaning to speak softly in your ear, his voice gruff.

“Joining us, mesh’la?” You realize that you've just been standing by the side of the bed, watching them all settle in. You had planned to return to your own bed, but leaning into his chest, you feel yourself quickly losing the battle against sleep. And you gave up all your pillows.

“Mmph.” A low laugh rumbles around you and Hunter nudges you toward the couch, tucking you in next to Crosshair, who was quick to pull your back to his chest and tangle up your legs, before pulling himself in behind you. You adjust the blankets in an effort to keep Hunter tucked in with you, knowing full well he would sacrifice his own comfort otherwise. With nearly no space between you, Hunter lets his eyes fall shut and rests his forehead on your own.

“G’night, Doc.” You don't know if you respond out loud, as you lose all grip on the waking world. After months of harsh missions and endless carnage, you were cuddled up, safe, content, and finally asleep.

#hunter x reader #hunter tbb #crosshair x reader #crosshair tbb #tech x reader #tech tbb #wrecker x reader #wrecker tbb #echo x reader #echo tbb #the bad batch x reader #gn!reader #tbb fluff #the bad batch #swtcw #my writing

[moralanxietystudio]

Roadwarden - In Search of Urgency Through Limitations

(This is a repost of my Twitter thread that got quite a dose of love yesterday, so I figured you may be interested in it as well.

1/ Hi! I was invited to post a thread for #MAMG23 on a unique feature of my fantasy game, Roadwarden. I’d like to tell you about its most controversial design choice - the time limit. The expectation that you’ll finish the game without seeing some parts of what it has to offer.

2/ In RW, you play as a single character patrolling the roads of a distant peninsula, aiding or harming its tribes. This land has grown detached from any strong, governmental body, and you start the game as an outsider, an agent, a spy sent here by the city.

3/ You’re encouraged to travel, make friends, learn more, but instead of being The Chosen One, you’re just a rider, a traveling sheriff. And you’re meant to get back to the city soon - usually, in 40 days, after which you are held accountable for your actions and their outcomes.

4/ You start with a personal goal you can select from a short list, and a few other quests to guide you, but none of them are obligatory. You may shape the fate of various people, or even whole settlements, but that’s just a small dent in the grand scheme of things.

5/ I think the reason why it works is that RW tries to make you feel attached to its NPCs and villages. Most people are guarded at first, but open up as you prove your worth to them - or manipulate them. You get options to spend time with them, to share meals and ale.

6/ You see NPCs’ perspectives as you exchange news and rumors. You get familiar with the way people get by, with their routines, and their plans for the future. My NPCs may not have the most depth, but in many ways, you get to learn about their vulnerabilities.

7/ At the start of the game, you’re also vulnerable system-wise, and you won’t increase your stats much. Instead, you rely on others to help you get out of the loop of hindrances. You grow closer with people - by quests, trading, hanging out - and open access to convenient tools.

8/ You unlock new shelters, free supplies, free care, free advice, lower prices, even direct help during tasks. You collect favors. It’s no wonder you may grow attached to NPCs and their problems, and actually care about what’s going to happen to them.

9/ (It’s a very different approach to many older video game plots, where your character would get dropped into mid-apocalypse, saving the world they know nothing about, or trying to save their sibling/village after a brief introduction, relying on our real-life contexts.)

10/ Your character is weak, and travels between the “points of light” (villages, inns) and the threatening wilderness, seeking ways to optimize your journeys, avoiding threats until prepared to face them, sticking to the main roads at first, then exploring the more obscure paths.

11/ But the game needed tension to make this work, to let you game the systems while pushing you into taking an occasional leap of faith. Balancing between risk and preparations is where the challenge comes from. Hence - the time limit.

12/ In the core game mode, the character has 40 in-game days to explore the peninsula. They can complete the game before that, but once the time runs out, they are forced to return to the city - very often begrudgingly. Not many people get to finish all of the quests. 

13/ Without save-scumming (reloading the game in hopes to get better results) or looking up a guide / seeking advice online, the player will struggle. I didn’t intend for them to see everything during their first playthrough. They’re meant to taste failure.

14/ RW is most rewarding when the player accepts their character’s shortcomings. When they decide that they need to leave a village to itself since they lack the time to help it. That they can’t rescue a traveler, or a place, because they’ve got to move on.

15/ Judging by RW’s reception, it’s an unintuitive, and not exactly welcome, design. Most people, myself included, expect to have the option to 100% the game from the get go. Despite my best efforts, it seems like I didn’t succeed at setting the game’s promises correctly.

16/ The tutorial section of the game tries to set the expectations straight. It promises that the peninsula is overgrowing, wild, filled with monsters, that the locals are *pagans*, that the time limit is pressing. But many players don’t treat these threats seriously.

17/ Oftentimes, they see these promises as the set up for a story of success, something to overcome with enough grind and wit. It seems like the game failed at making it clear that it tries to embrace human limitations, that it’s a part of the core experience.

18/ The game didn’t make it clear that by deciding what matters to you the most, whom you want to help, whom you leave behind, which mysteries you unravel, which conflicts you solve, and when you put your needs above others - you get to make meaningful choices.

19/ My ideas did resonate with some, and I saw people playing the game once on the “standard” mode, then again, on the “casual” mode - with no time limit - to experience the rest of the story threads. I think it’s even better to take a longer break between playthroughs.

20/ This way, you focus on your character, and encounter the realm beyond your grasp. You get to embrace your mistakes and choices. If you return to the game after a year or two, it will feel different, as you are also not going to be the same being.

21/ It may not be a reasonable expectation on my part. But to justify myself, I’d like to make it clear that the time limit is not just a gimmick, but rather a system I play with in many ways. You can’t travel during nighttime. You need to restore stats every day.

22/ Some quests disappear or show up on specific days. Some actions are available only at specific hours. Days get shorter. You can care for the roads to ride faster. In many ways, time is a resource, and various tasks can be solved by spending it.

23/ Take the wooden lantern, as an example. You can buy it from a merchant, or hang out with a friendly carpenter to make your own, chatting with his neighbors. What do you need more right now? Money? Coins? Friendship? Without the time limit, you’d get limitless resources.

24/ The world of Roadwarden is rotting, collapsing, fading away, reaching a new form. With no time limit, it’s a playground, a place to be tamed according to your will. And the time limit was meant to turn it into a mystery, an interactive adventure. #MAMG23

#indiedev #pixelart #gamedev #screenshotsaturday #fantasy #rpg #pixel art #indie game #gaming #roadwarden

[zoros-bandana]

Nami, Robin, and Brook just lying back in their chairs, sipping their drinks as they watch their favorite pastime Zoro x S/O. They pay extra attention to the details from their interactions, like Zoro placing a flower on S/O’s ear or S/O sneaking a kiss to a sleeping Zoro only to come back and sneak another. I bet they placed bets on when they’ll propose too, HCs of this!

Zoro Secret Proposal Headcanons

(SFW)

(based on Brook, Nami, and Robin)

Once Nami, Robin and Brook note about the affection growing between you and Zoro they immediately assume something is going on 

At first it seems innocent, the two of you both more open with sitting in each other’s arms or stealing sweet temple kisses not caring about prying eyes

But Nami notices things a lot more in a scheming way - knowing that something is going on so they all begin to watch you both like hawks until they get your habits noted down 

All three of them will strategically place themselves around the ship to keep an eye on either of you at a time

Zoro will always have his body pressed to you or hand on you at all times - whether it’s guiding you through the door with his hand on your back or holding your hand at the dinner table

Your actions towards Zoro become more giddish and blushy - doing more innocent acts of service and tasks for him

When docked this can include small acts as picking him flowers or finding small rocks on the beach in the shape of a heart to give to him 

Will always accept your gifts with a big goofy smile and holds it tight in his hand for the rest of the day

The crew find it harder to pry you away from each other - even Luffy struggles to get Zoro’s attention - this is a big sign for Nami, Robin and Brook

Nap times usually consist of Zoro wrapping you up in his arms extra tight and waking up if someone is near by to make sure they haven't come over to disturb or hurt you

Both Nami and Robin catch onto Zoro sneaking into your bed at night - him also disappearing before the sun rises - with lots of whispering and giggles from your bed

They all take not of him playing with your hands a lot - rubbing/touching/kissing your fingers (more specifically your ring finger) - even more so when you are both alone

Will slip up some times (especially when docked and someone talks to you) and calls you his wife ("oi get away from my wife"/"that's my wife, idiot!")- proceeds to blush for the rest of the day

They all place bets on when and how he will propose to you 

Whoever loses the bet has to do everyones chores for a month and be Luffy’s personal assistant for a week

Nami insists she would be the first to know since he has to ask her for money to pay for the ring - so she thinks she has the best chance to win the bet

Nami knows how private he is and thinks the moment he will propose will be even more hidden from everyone. Believes it will be very lowkey - maybe when you’re alone together on night watch or napping or docked somewhere and have a moment together

Robin is still sceptical that he will propose. She doesn’t think this is how he would act if he would - bets that he will pull away from you like he’s too nervous to talk to you in case he will blurt it out

Brook thinks he will do it in some heroic way mid battle - screaming at you from across the battle field “will you marry me/marry me now” and try to rope someone (probably Jimbe) into eloping you both mid battle

One the bets are placed they are even more watchful of you both and ask a lot more pressing questions to try and get the answer out of you

Will drop hints at meal time about marriage and weddings and how nice you would look in white/how you look nice in jewellery especially rings

You catch onto what they are doing - not so much your meathead boyfriend though - he has his attention on training or his own plan to propose to you

When you are both very drunk, probably at a party while docked, Zoro will pick you up over his shoulder as you’re screaming at him to let him down. Says he will only do it if you agree to marry him

After you agree he places your down and asks you again - his “proper” proposal. Doesn’t use a ring or get on his knee. May use the cap of the bottle of alcohol he is drinking to symbolise his proposal 

You keep the bottle cap close as the both of you keep your engagement a secret

As you are both now engaged the affection starts to wear off and you both go back to how you usually act - infuriating the three desperate onlookers

Only once Brook, Nami and Robin give up on spying on your activities is when you come clean on your engagement

Everyone - except for Sanji/Brook/Nami - seem overjoyed at the news (Robin keeps composed enough to be happy for you)

All three end up doing everyones chores for the month

Luffy appreciates having his friends so close and willing to do so much for him - even if Nami fights the urge to protest all his stupid ideas

#doves requests #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece scenario #one piece imagine #zoro #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #zoro imagine #zoro scenario #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro scenario #roronoa zoro imagine

[winters-dream]

Villain was ecstatic. This had to be the single most greatest day of their life. They could hardly contain their excitement as they gazed down at the hero. Their hero. Their nemesis. Their captive. Kneeling prettily in front of Villain in their lair, their hands chained to the ground. They sat helpless and completely at Villain’s mercy. 

And Villain wanted to gloat.

“After all these years,” they started, “after countless battles between you and I. It is finally you who loses and me who is victorious. I won, I’ve defeated you.”

They let out a victorious laugh as they turn to the large curtain concealing view of the city. They heard a rustle of chains as they opened the curtain, letting some light into the room. They paid no mind to the noise, too giddy to see what Hero was up to. It wasn’t like the hero could escape, Villain had spent too much time chasing after the hero; they weren’t going to let them get free so easily.

Instead Villain focused their  loving gaze on the city view. The beautiful, serene city, full of regular civilians milling about. Some catching a cab for work, some grabbing a quick bite to eat at some small cafe, some meeting up with friends. Beautiful, tall buildings, some dating back to the 1700s. Rich with history. 

Soon to be destroyed at Villain’s command.

“Look at them,” they said. “Living their normal, ordinary lives. Completely oblivious to what is about to come. Faceless beings, extras in the grand scheme of things. And among them, your loved ones. They’ll perish too. Because you—”

They turned around and paused mid-sentence. Hero still sat there, chained up and unable to escape. The only difference was the thick black cape that wrapped around them perfectly. Villain’s cape. Only their face was visible as they sat swaddled in the stolen good, their expression caught between a scowl and a pout.

“You stole my cape,” said Villain, too stunned to come up with a snarky reaction.

“It’s cold up here,” Hero said simply. “If you had invested in some sort of heating system for your lair, I wouldn’t have resorted to thievery.”

“You’re adorable,” the villain spoke with a forced sneer. Because they were adorable. They looked cute and warm and absolutely perfect cuddled under Villain's cape. 

Villain stared at them a moment longer before returning to their big speech, the image of Hero swaddled in their cape never leaving their mind.

Weeks passed as Villain’s plan slowly began to unfold. Hero still sat in their lair with a direct view through the window. And over those weeks, Hero and Villain had spent a lot of down time talking to each other, getting to know one another. Developing feelings for one another. 

Though both were way too stubborn to admit it. Hero would deem it crazy and boil it down to just a mild case of Stockholm syndrome. While Villain would pull some dramatics and claim to rather die than admit some silly feelings. 

But to the outsiders’ eye, there was no pair more obvious with their attraction towards one another than Hero and Villain. With the gentle tones they’d use on one another, and the surprisingly soft treatment Hero received despite being held captive. Villain always went out of their way to feed Hero a hot meal everyday instead of the cardboard-like granola bars they’d saved specifically for their prisoners. They’d even turned the heat up so Hero could rest as comfortably as one could when chained down.

Villain hated to admit that they really enjoyed the pleasant smile Hero started to send them whenever they entered. Something selfish began to grow inside of them as they found themselves wanting to keep Hero here forever. Their heart filled with joy whenever they gazed upon the hero, a void they didn’t know was empty being filled.

But today, Villain didn’t feel that joy. Today was the result of all their hard work finally paying off. The city was under complete chaos, half of the buildings burned with the other half fell away from explosions and flying debris. The entire city was being destroyed, just like they’d promised Hero it would. 

They should be thrilled, all of their hard work finally paying off. But all they saw was Hero’s solemn face as they stared out the window, watching the city they’ve spent their whole life protecting get turned upside down. It put a damper on Villain’s mood, Hero’s pain no longer worth the satisfaction of their successful plans.

They glanced between the Hero and the burning city, an idea coming to their head. A stupid idea, that would undo all of the progress they had made. Only an idiot would come up with such a thought and actually try to go through with it.

They stood before Hero and crouched down to their level, a small sigh passing through their nose. Hero spared them a quick glance before returning their gaze out the window. They still wore Villain’s cape around them, Villain never had the heart to take it from them. They looked far too cozy and Villain found some form of satisfaction seeing Hero snuggled up under their cloak.

They had taken it once, while Hero was sleeping. Hero had spilt their food on it, so Villain had made sure to wash it while they slept so it’d be clean when they woke. The smile on Hero’s face was enough to make Villain’s week.

“I know it looks bad out there,” Villain started. “But, there’s still time. If you’d like, I could ask some of my henchmen to take all of your loved ones to safety.”

Hero sighed and leaned their head against the cold wall, their eyes never leaving the window. “No need. I don’t have loved ones.”

“Are all heroes this dramatic?” asked the villain. “You must have some loved ones.”

Hero shook their head. “Not me. My mom’s dead, I never knew my dad. I have no brothers or sisters. And making friends isn’t exactly easy in this line of work, let alone keeping them.”

Villain didn’t know what to say to comfort them. They were far from able to step into their shoes. Villain had quite a few henchmen they could call friends, a couple they could even call best friends. And, yes, even though they never spoke to their parents, they were still healthy and very much alive. As it stood, Villain was the last person to understand Hero. And expressing sympathy never was their best trait.

“Sometimes I think I chose the wrong line of work,” said Hero. This caught Villain off guard. 

“What do you mean?” 

Hero released a half-shrug, the fire from the city reflecting in their eyes. “Maybe I was wrong. I entered the academy, went through countless hours of training to become this great hero. I wanted to create a society that was less dependent on superheroes. And I thought doing something on the hero side of things would do it. I didn’t realize I had worsened their dependency. But I’ve been here for almost a month and . . . ”

They shook their head, a minute motion that would have gone unnoticed if Villain had been looking elsewhere. “I’m just like the other heroes.”

An air of silence stretched between the two of them; Hero lost in their own head, and Villain at a loss for what to say to help. If there even was something that could be said to help Hero. They just observed Hero as they kept their gaze on the scene outside. 

“And I know it’s selfish to say,” the hero started again. They turned to face Villain fully, their voice rising to a normal volume. The suddenness of their action startled the villain but they kept quiet, allowing Hero to get what they needed off their chest.

“But I’ve actually enjoyed these past few weeks. I’ve risked my life every second of the day for the good of this city. And it’s exhausting,” they let out a loud sigh, releasing all of their pent up stress in that one huff of breath. “This felt like a vacation, believe it or not. A long overdue vacation. Does that make me a lousy hero?”

Villain shook their head with a slight smile. “No, it doesn’t. It just makes you human.” 

And now that stupid idea they thought of.

“I’ll tell you what,” they started, already preparing to regret it. “You seem to really care about this city. Genuinely. You want to see it thrive. I respect that.”

“I’ll let you go,” they said. “And make it look like an accident. I’ll call off the rest of my plans and help you restore the city.”

Hero sent them a suspicious look, like they couldn’t fully trust their word. And Villain couldn’t blame them, they were the reason Hero was here in the first place.

“What’s the catch?”

Villain shook their head. “No catch, I promise . . .”

They trailed off as they looked into the hero’s eyes, shining with a glimmer of hope. Their beautiful eyes that still seemed to contain the slightest bit of innocence, like the hero still saw the good in everyone. Including Villain. 

Another stupid idea popped into the villain’s brain. One that would leave them embarrassed and unable to face the hero again if they failed. 

“Well, there may be one condition,” they said with a shy smile.

Hero playfully rolled their eyes and shook their head indignantly. “There’s always a catch with you villains.”

A small wave of satisfaction flows through Hero as they watch the usually calm Villain flush red. They look at Hero with a strong sense of determination in their eyes, mustering up the courage to ask for what they want. 

“I want to kidnap you again next week,” said the villain. “I’ll take you somewhere nice. With a heating system so you don’t freeze to death.”

Now it’s Hero’s turn to blush. They sat silent for a moment as it took them a second to find their voice. 

“Are you asking me on a date?”

It almost didn’t seem real but Villain nodded their head, confirming Hero’s question. And as bizarre as this whole thing was, Hero found themselves flattered by it. They found themself nodding as a burst of excitement welled up inside them. 

After all, this would be their first date in years.

#my own #writing #writers of tumblr #female writers #hero #villain #heroes #villains #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #hero x villain #villain x hero #captive #kidnapping #dates #enemies to lovers #imagines #oneshot #fantasy

[thistransient]

- So I went to the Taiwanese trial class with my friend. It was taught by a little old lady who was nice enough but gave me some mild flashbacks to those harrowing weeks with the Mandarin teacher of a similar age. Most of the session was her explaining the history of 台語 in Taiwan, with a side of trying to force the 8 tones and counting from 1 to 10 upon us via rote memorization. I felt a bit frustrated and not entirely thrilled, my friend was miffed that the school hadn’t explained the price they quoted was for the trial class only. We’ve decided to give it a pass and try a different school, although our scheduled trial there is on hold on account of the teacher falling ill. In the meantime my friend has begun to contemplate taking group Japanese class instead (as his partner and her kid are Japanese), which is much more widely available. I am tempted. Do I need to start half-assedly learning yet another language? Probably not. Do I want to divert my energy from Mandarin to whole-assedly learn Japanese? Also not really. Is there a high chance of following through nonetheless? At least I’m self-aware about it...

- Job applications here largely require a photo, and I need a haircut but I’m afraid to go back to the place I went in August for the big chop. The guy started cutting it while wet, then broke out the blow-dryer and kept snipping til he was satisfied, but because my hair is curly and I do not own styling product more complicated than a comb, it reverted immediately to a vague dandelion shape and took several months to actually resemble the reference photo I’d provided. The thought keeps crossing my mind to simply shave my head entirely. I had it buzzed to a 3 some ten years ago after a dye-job gone wrong and did not enjoy my appearance. Of course I look different now, and hair grows back, but the struggle between wanting the catharsis and radical change (not to mention less mess in the shower drain strainer) of a head-shave, and fearing the hassle of growing it all back out if I do truly detest it is raging inside of me.

- After coming back from Korea I may have spent one whole day languishing in bed and eating spoonfuls of peanut butter as a meal before slowly reconvening daily activities. I have been meeting some friends and going out, but I end up needing one day of hermit-like recovery for every outdoor social endeavour. I have yet to implement any kind of proper schedule (beyond “try to eat three meals and go outside at least once”), leading my friends to recommend I start by contemplating my greater, overarching goals for life. Every few years I come round to the notion of attempting a STEM degree (which would require redoing undergrad, but, as they say, “the time will pass anyways”). I think it would be really engaging to do a program taught in Chinese, and possibly motivate me to overcome my deficiencies in the math department, which is what always puts me off the whole scheme. Scientific terms are so much simpler in Mandarin because they’re extremely 顧名思義 (just as the name implies); English really shot itself in the foot with all the Greek and Latin. I don’t even need to check the dictionary to figure out 光合 means ‘photosynthesis’... Will I actually follow through with this, and live out my days happily studying trees and avoiding small talk with humans, or will I continue to trundle through life intermittently trying to teach English between bouts of autistic burnout? When I put it that way, the answer seems obvious, but this is without factoring in all the bugs that live in trees... Also wasn’t I trying to convince myself to go to grad school for what, translation? linguistics? library science? something? just a few months ago? Maybe overarching life goals are a red herring at present, and I should just get a job first and then see what kind of things I’m interested in when I have consistent disposable income to pursue them at length.

- I am, at the ripe old age of my mid-30s (I’m rounding up since my birthday is next month- again, so soon??) being forced to reconsider what it means to like someone. Perhaps on account of being socially inept and spending all of my formative years in Catholic school, I took for granted that it was that painful, infatuated pining one feels for attractive strangers or casual acquaintances who generally don’t reciprocate. In the past couple years I began to experience the strange phenomenon of having great affection for friends I’d gotten to know slowly and who became increasingly physically appealing as time wore on, but I wrote this off as Mystery Emotion X because it lacked that frantic obsession I was accustomed to. Now I suspect this may simply be a healthy manifestation of romantic attraction. I’ve often struggled with exactly what identity label the intersection of my gender, attraction pattern, and neurodivergency might land me under. I think the plot is thickening... but I will put off pursuing further clarity by going to the BDSM bar instead.

#i should probably figure something out jobwise before my 90 days are up #i actually did buy an exit flight to show the inbound airline as i was leaving korea #which they checked in detail and i was sweating bullets BECAUSE #i actually bought the flight for the wrong day on accident and just manually edited the date before i printed the itinerary #it was one of those super cheap sale flights that probably does not allow amending #but who knows maybe as the date approaches i'll feel the urge to see what goes on in Manila at 4 AM

[indizombie]

The myth of the vegetarian nation has influenced policy matters such as serving eggs in the mid-day meal scheme for children attending government and government-aided schools. Barely a third of the states provide eggs to children under the scheme despite the Hyderabad-based National Institute of Nutrition — it works under the aegis of the Indian Council of Medical Research — certifying that eggs are loaded with more nutrients and easier to procure compared to alternatives such as milk and bananas.

‘NFHS data on diet practices should lead to more informed debate on nutrition, remove blinkers of policymakers’, Indian Express

#Indian Express #NFHS-5 #India #myth #mid-day meal scheme #government schools #government-aided schools #National Institute of Nutrition #Indian Council of Medical Research #eggs #nutrients #procurement #policy matters

[thatkindofwoman]

I'd like to think that the way I was would be the way I am, forever.

False. Though, it's almost a relief.

I've spent too many moments thinking I had to be something for someone else. When in fact, my complete acceptance and giving to myself has been the biggest blessing. I hate the word blessing. Sick and heavy with obligation and guilt. Not a chance with me on the higher scheme. The heavy shit.

The biggest feelings I have.... are towards the people who would be most affected by my biggest choices. Including myself.

I love to afford those who are selfish the moment of self centered. Centered. Grounded. Able to give, but only if stable. These... selfish. Reactive. The worst. Ooof.

Selfish is poison. Delicious over time before it treats you mean. Selfish is the one you see in the mirror in the bathroom at the best event you've been to. Love, self and otherwise, stares you back every other time you make a glance at yourself. Lazy Sundays, and the morning after. Mid day on a Tuesday when you feel... itching for something more.

There are so many things that you have to learn, leaning into the worst parts of your life. One is that you're as you know you, your best companion. Fucked? Beyond belief. Probably. You're completely lovable. Compatible. Companionable. But you're striving to know yourself. Let them. You to you.

The amount of me to me time I've had used to belong to all of you. I belonged to you as much as I belonged to myself. Back then.

I remember the first time I gave a little bit of myself, in a bar, on a trip, for a moment. The words didn't tell me to belong to you and me. Instead I kept living, thinking a glance in the mirror would allow me to survive me.

Me to me. The vicious bitch, the most caring and considerate I've ever known.

Singular.

I shared the most intimate details I could fathom. And that alone made me think of each of you as a partner in my experience.

I can't help but think of who I was, she is the reason I protect myself today.

She would glory in my current life. Dig in like a feast. She would be starving before ripping apart the meal in front of her. She considers the connections. But her thoughts don't grow connections. Nor memories.

#mine #spilled ink #words by me #personal #thatkindofwoman #katharine keegan

[theonemarvelousness]

valentines ship suggestion No x Vil but its a scheme by Rook

No looks confused at the letter. It's a gorgeous purple paper, with a golden seal--Pomefiore. The beautiful calligraphy on the front, also in a gorgeous gold in the neatest penmanship she's ever seen in her life reads:

No Wei.

Every Pomefiore member she's very familiar with currently, technically, lives with her--and honestly things are really starting to settle out but this is definitely the extra-flavor that exists with that dorm. Having the Housewarden for Pomefiore live here, too, and the Vice, has been difficult--actually, it's TWO sets, but Scarabia can apparently manage pretty well with the two heads of dorm living there part time.

But, well, a pretty seal is broken with a pocket knife. Opening it, she pulls out the letter curiously. It is a thick, old-style parchment written in again, purple ink.

No Wei,

I doubt there are enough written words to apologize to you. And, admittedly, I realize that you prefer action than lip service. Please join me for dinner at the time described below, my treat. I'd like to start making it up to you.

I am truly sorry for all that's happened.

Vil Schoenheit

Huh.

Dinner.

That's a restaurant in the village... Well. She can manage that with her bus pass. She checks through some things... there's enough money on her bus pass to cover the trip, and she has some nicer clothes to wear. No doubt Vil would pick something fairly nice.

It's still cold, so she can definitely get away with winter wear, too...

Well. Dinner it is. At least, she'll give him the time of day. They do need to fix what's going on--or they'd probably end up killing each other.

---

Vil frowns at the letter on the makeshift desk he has to live with. Meals and slumber here have been difficult, even with the imported bed roll and other creature comforts. Honestly, there's been several nights he's just gone back to Pomefiore, especially when he has early days because living in this hovel full time is horrid.

Fine, fine, he does understand the prickliness of No now, but still! She's a terror!

But, a letter? Vil Schoenheit scrawled--it's fairly neat at least...

Plain, simple...

Vil,

I know we are only starting to come to understand each other... and now you know things. Could we have dinner and talk?

The details are transcribed.

I had the boxes enchanted, so just mark to let me know!

Sincerely, No Wei

Well. What harm is there? He marks yes. The letter sparkles.

Well, he makes sure his schedule is set.

---

"Well, Rook," Vil starts as he works over the schedule, "mark the evening of the fourteenth as blocked out. I have dinner."

"O-ho~? With whom~?" His Vice Housewarden is so curious, of course.

"No Wei. It's a mid-level establishment... I assume there are coupons involved, considering. Politely--" He looks around first. No one is around. "--she invited me out so we may reconcile more. I refuse to let her pay, of course." A tut, shaking his head.

"Oui, oui, of course... so, what are you wearing, beautiful Vil?"

Vil pauses. "...I will decide wardrobe later."

"You should bring flowers for Reine du Non." An affirmative nod. "A token of a new friendship! Beaut!"

That IS a good idea.

---

With the busy schedule, admittedly, Vil has no time to talk down details--but the letter was clear on date, time, and location, and if nothing else she IS punctual.

Not quite a fully put-on suit. An overcoat, a button-up, a stylish tie, gloves, pants, and shoes. He has to look gorgeous and be winter ready with the fresh layer of snow. Considering about ten minutes before he went to Pomefiore, No had gone off bundled up--it means she's on the way via bus.

He'll take her back in the car, then.

She looked... nicely done up, at least, as nice as she gets.

---

"The reservation is under Schoenheit, but he isn't here yet." No stands nervously in front of the hostess. She had to jump into the nearby bookstore's bathroom to change into something more... nice? She can't really look feminine at school. The make-up too was a bit of an embarrassing endeavor. It's been a long time since she's gotten ready in a restroom. And, of course, she bought a novel to offset the use.

But it feels really nice to have her hair up and some make up on. The outfit is a nice button-up, with a skirt she had found and bought on impulse at a thrift store. The school ribbon in her hair, tights, and dress shoes--also a thrift store find. It's nice. Not--super stylish or in trend, but nice.

It's nice to feel pretty.

"Oh, come this way." The woman informs. "The other member of your party is already here."

"Oh--good!" No feels a little... nervous.

Well, she has ever right to be. Vil looks stunning. As per usual. It's ridiculous. He's too pretty for a man. It's bullshit.

But, the hostess pulls out the chair for her, and she takes a seat. Feeling... nervous? Why?

They've never really had pleasant time one-on-one.

"Hi." Yeah, even she knows that was lame.

"--and if you think for a second you're going to use some coupon special, I've already put my card down for the check." Bossy, as always. Well.

"--alright." Well, the letter did say--but uh. Yeah, he would make sure to re-iterate that, wouldn't he.

Vil sighs and shakes his head, and offers a simple single-flower bouquet. A beautiful white rose. "And--for you."

Hesitantly, No takes it. It's--absolutely gorgeous. A perfect white rose. And it smells wonderful! Admittedly, she really DOES like flowers. And it's been a long time since someone's given her one. Fine, yeah, she's smiling. "Thanks, Vil. It's lovely."

Then, he produces a vase; a wave of his wand puts in water. "So it doesn't wilt during our meal."

A nod, and No puts it in carefully, admiring the bloom.

---

Well, this is a very surprising turn out. A skirt on No Wei! It hits home how much of a girl she actually is, with a fairly nice-fitting blouse, a skirt, tights, and shoes? Oh, yes--the make up too. That is certainly a girl when she's cleaned up. It really puts into perspective the efforts she goes through to hide her sex and the skewed perception of being at an all-boys-school.

Interesting.

There's some nervousness to her too--but how her blue eyes light up at the rose means they are stepping in the right direction.

Rook was right, and of course flowers do usually make girls happy.

The cuisine is French, and once they get the menus, No looks a little lost. Well, she IS from a foreign world.

"I have an idea." He ventures gently.

No slowly looks up at him. "Yes?"

"How about you have what I'm having."

There's a pause. "That works."

"Wonderful--the bisque, the Coq au vin, and of course the cheese course. Maybe dessert after if we're up to it."

No nods, agreeably. This is nice.

---

No takes in a breath as she sets down the menu and sips her water. In all honesty, there's a big relief. This is nice, a little awkward, but nice.

The table is really small, making this a pretty intimate setting. She's not really sure what to do with her hands so in her lap they stay. It was nice of him to invite her to dinner, though this is a BIT fancier than she expected.

Yeah, no, they would've gone for street kabobs if it was on her dime though and with the dieting Vil might've died.

The order is placed, at least.

"You look nice today." A compliment! It's startling.

"Thanks... um... you look great as always." It's true.

"I do try. You've cleaned up quite well."

"It's... uh, a rare opportunity..." This is so awkward.

"I--know." Oh good, HE'S awkward too. "..."

Awkward silence.

---

It is awkward, they spent an entire semester basically hating one-another and here they are--considering No's apparently the queen of friendship, he didn't think this reconciling part would be so difficult. But, he is the older, wiser member of this... "I am sorry. How... I found out, and better yet, our relationship until now. I didn't act my best in any aspect, and you did deserve better."

"I'm sorry too." She replies immediately. "I'd like to be friends, Vil."

"...Me too."

---

Dinner is so good! No hasn't had this food before, and it is surprisingly delicious. Maybe there is something to this French Food (it is not as good as American cuisine). Honestly, it's also nice to chat with Vil. Go over the game plan for the SDC, and overall just be amicable with one-another. It makes this whole event a lot more stressful and more tolerable.

It's really nice.

She thinks maybe they could've been friends a lot sooner if they just sat down and talked.

"If you won't tell, I won't tell about dessert."

"Considering Ace dumped his laundry on mine today and said it wouldn't be a big deal if I did his too, yeah. Dessert sounds great."

Vil sighs. "So that explains the clothes in the snow."

"I washed them... It's just he's going to have to dry them." He deserves it too, in her humble opinion.

"Well, I recommend the Poire avec orange. I think you'll like it."

"Then let's go with that."

---

The suggestion was a good choice! No looks absolutely delighted with the dessert. A sweetened fruit, not as heavy in calories or sugars as many other choices--and a bit of a cheat day is necessary. Morale-wise, and considering what he's been blind too all this time when it comes to her... she needs it.

Plus, after the SDC not only will the prize money be donated to Ramshackle, he is going to personally oversee the repairs and bring up the conditions in a Housewarden meeting. This is a ridiculous scenario. A student should have never endured such conditions. What was the Headmaster even thinking putting a student there, let alone a girl!?

Wait.

He can't out that part.

It hits him this really is a secret he must keep.

---

The meal is done and No lets out a slow, careful breath. Content with both the food and the experience. It's been really nice with Vil. Honest to goodness nice. "I've had a really good time tonight, Vil, thanks. Though--I do have to go soon. The last bus leaves in twenty minutes."

Vil's eyes roll. "No, we're going back in a car. I can't let you go alone this late in the cold."

There's a moment to hesitate, but she nods. "Well, alright. Then I'm in your care."

The waiter arrives with the check, and Vil barely glances at it before he signs. He stands, picking up the vase. "Let's go, No. I'll wait for you outside so you can change. I've got wipes in the car for your face, so don't worry about the make up."

Honestly, she really likes this side of Vil. So this is why his students like him so much...

---

Rook cannot help his grin as he watches the pair leave.

They had such a lovely date~ He cannot wait to see how this further blooms.

His perfect Roi and Reine.

#vil schoenheit #no wei #yuu x vil #vil x no #valentines day twst #twst fic #twst writing #twst fanfiction #twst writings #anon asks

[thisispaladinbehavior]

come and find me in the valley (down in the deep green, oh hear my call)

WIP snippet of what i'm working on today, inspired by the lovely @gay-jewish-bucky and that fantastic folk song. obsessed with this right now, really wanted to share the intro, click in to read the rest <3 i've never shared snippets before, let me know if that's something you all like to see!

----

The land is theirs on the second of July. A visit to town that morning, a couple signatures on a stack of paper, and it’s theirs.

Home. Or what will be home, in a half year or so. Right now it’s just a meadow sat in the middle of the forest at the end of a dirt road. It’s a half mile from the main road, and even that is just a two-lane that’s never very busy.

Bucky liked that best about this particular plot as they looked over a list they’d made together. Steve didn’t so much mind the plots of land that were in more populated areas, but he gave Bucky final say. He knows what the noise does to Bucky, what the people do, the traffic and the commotion of cities. Bucky loves him for that, one reason in a million.

Steve’s old truck rumbles down their single-track dirt road, kicking up dust in the humid summer heat. The grasses along the road are high and lush, boasting wildflowers and saplings peeking around wide tree trunks decades old. The woods surrounding are dense and a deep green.

That’s what Steve likes best about this plot they’ve picked. All the green. The flowers, the leaves, the meadow. A stream trickles alongside the meadow, crystal clear and just deep enough to hit their knees, and about a mile downstream it gets wide and slow enough to form a pool lined with rocks smoothed by millennia.

It takes a few minutes to get from the main road to the meadow, though they own all the land in between and around. Fifty-seven acres of mostly forest; Bucky has no idea what they’ll do with all of it. The only thing they really want is a cabin.

They’ve planned it to the square foot, a log home in much the style of many of the cabins upstate; they’re low in the mountains, just on the edge of the Adirondacks. A log cabin, they decided. That’ll be just right.

They’ve got the money, somehow. Bucky still can’t wrap his head around how much, with the back pay from their time in the Army, Steve’s pay from his time with SHIELD, everything they’ve gotten since. Royalties. A weird concept. In the end they’re millionaires, a long ways away from their time sharing meager meals in a cold and creaking tenement building.

They’re comfortable, and they’re retired. Bucky feels a weight lifted from his shoulders, and he sees how his Steve smiles so much brighter. The decades bleed away a little more every day, and for the first time in a long time they feel their age, not the old men they’ve been since they came into this century they didn’t really expect to see. They’re only in their mid-thirties. Young, in the grand scheme of things.

Plenty of time to live.

“Contractors will be out tomorrow to get things laid out,” Steve says as they pull up to the meadow. Their meadow. Home. “We’ll get a look at how things’ll lay out. Project manager said we’d discuss the floor plans.”

“Mm,” Bucky hums as he looks around at all the green. Butterflies float over the wildflowers, and birds soar between the trees. It’s quiet; the still is cut only by birdsong and the rumble of Steve’s truck.

He cuts the engine and they both sit in that quiet for a few minutes. Bucky links their fingers together over the console, and he takes it all in. It feels easier to breathe here already.

“Let’s look around,” he says softly, tipping his head against the seat to look over at his husband. “I don’t wanna go to the apartment yet.”

Steve looks at him, all the more beautiful here in their own private sanctuary, and he smiles. “How ‘bout we pitch a tent, spend a few days. You want that?”

It’s still surreal sometimes, how easy Steve knows him. Even after all their time apart, after everything that has changed them as people. Nothing changed this. Nothing could change this, this feeling Bucky swears will just kill him someday.

“I’d like that,” he murmurs, smiling soft and sweet as he gives Steve’s hand a squeeze.

Steve smiles, nose scrunching with his fondness, and he lifts Bucky’s hand to press a kiss to his gleaming metal knuckles, just as easy as if it were flesh and bone. Bucky can’t feel much with that hand, even with the one he was gifted by friends. He knows Steve knows this; it makes the gesture all the sweeter.

“C’mon,” Steve says, still wearing a smile that rivals the sun hanging high in the sky. “Let’s see it.”

It’s hot as soon as they open their doors, so humid Bucky’s skin is sticky the second the air hits him. His hair is up in a loose bun to keep his neck cool, but sweat is beading up already.

He loves it. They both do. They’ve spent long enough in the cold.

The grass and wildflowers brush his legs as he wades into the middle of their meadow, and he tips his face skyward to welcome the sunlight that has his eyelids glowing red. He takes a deep breath, reveling in the smell of summer forest, and he lets it out slow.

“You like it?”

He doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t move away from how he’s seeking the sun like a flower, but he smiles and reaches out blindly for Steve’s hand. Steve gives it, easy as anything. Their fingers link again, loose, tender, and Bucky feels at peace in a way he doesn’t much anymore.

“I love it,” he says as he finally looks at the man beside him. His breath snags in his throat.

The sun has Steve’s hair glowing like a halo on his head, golden blond, streaked white from how often they’ve been outside this summer. His short beard is lighter, too, boasting flecks of that same gold. The freckles dusting his cheeks have gotten a touch darker, and there’s a pretty flush on his skin from the heat.

But his eyes.

Bucky swears he’s never seen a color like that before. The history books all say Steve’s eyes are blue, but Bucky knows better. Bucky sees them every day. He knows that they’re more green than anything else, light blue just at the outer edge of his irises. Around the ink of his pupils, they’re a pretty green, shining like peridot in the sun. They’re half-closed with how Steve is smiling at Bucky, long lashes casting shadows down his cheeks.

Steve is the most beautiful thing Bucky has ever seen, he will be for the rest of their lives. He always was, well before the serum, well before the way they’ve changed. He’s bigger now, sure, strong and healthy in a way that eases Bucky’s old-habit fear. But his face, the one Bucky has been looking at for a lifetime, is much the same. He’s always been beautiful.

“I love you,” Bucky says, helpless to the way he feels. The words feel brittle, they don’t feel like enough. He thinks maybe if he says them enough Steve might understand a fraction of the depth of them. His love is an ocean little-explored; he finds new things every day that only make it deeper.

“Love you, too, baby,” Steve says gently, so gently. “In six months we’ll be here all the time. Won’t have to go anywhere else if we don’t want to.”

...

#my fic #WIP #snippet #stevebucky fic #stucky fic #im very very in love with this story already #im longing for the mountains again #ill see them soon and im so excited

[eyebeastposts]

Patreon Prompt 229

Weekly Prompts Available for $5 and up Patrons  

Prompt: After noticing herself putting on weight, the empress of a massive kingdom decides to enjoy all her favorite meals vicariously through her favorite servant, a short, effeminate butler. This leaves the poor butler a helpless pampered blob, constantly being doted on by his Empress.

  Empress Emily was known for her wisdom and cunning that made her a perfect fit for the throne. However, she began to be far better identified by her body as soon as people started to notice the small amount of chub around her mid-section when she so much as ate a few extra slices of cake. Tired of being judged for wanting to indulge herself, the clever Empress put a plan into action. By month three of Emily’s scheme, no one in the kingdom was talking about how thick her stomach was or how much she ate at dinner. Instead, they were left to gawk and gossip about Donovan, the young man that served as her butler and personal scapegoat.

  Away from the other servants and guards, Emily sauntered around the kitchen picking up a bevy of sweets. Making her way over to a stack of pillows, she ordered Donovan to open his maw. Not one to disobey, the young man parted his lips to allow the Empress to stuff his chubby cheeks with more food. Various sweets and meaty dishes were shoved down his throat to further expand his body and strain his uniform.

  The grey coat around Donovan’s pudgy torso did an admirable job of keeping his bulbous belly at bay. However, several buttons missing from his dress shirt revealed the immense blubber around his gut and his hefty man tits that would inevitably call for yet another change of clothes. Thick legs splayed out along the ground, his pudgy fingers pulled at the back of his trousers to remedy the wedgie that constantly plagued his hefty butt cheeks at every hour of the day.

  Leaving Donovan to chew his food, the Empress climbed down his hefty form to look over his progress. Estimating that he had long passed the 1000 pound mark, she was certain she had achieved her initial goal of making people focus on his weight rather than hers. Though she had achieved her goal, she couldn’t help enjoying these feeding sessions of getting to dote on her big, handsome man. With a platter of cupcakes in hand, she once more climbed up his fat rolls to continue spoiling him and satisfy her strange desires.

#eyebeast #patreon #writing prompt #request #exercise #male #wg #weight gain #fat #bhm #ssbhm