#I hope I’m not coming across as condescending and apologize if I am

[janeicethesiren]

Hot take: The Woobification of Sebastian and O!Ciel-How Beauty Clouds Judgement

Hey guys, it’s me again and I can’t sleep. I have another hot take to share! Once again, please don’t take this too seriously, I’m just talking.

So, I just want to start off by saying that I totally get it. I mean it! We’ve been following these characters for years and we’ve gotten so invested in there stories and we can’t help but want them to win, you know? It’s human nature to want to root for the underdog in some ways. And, O!Ciel kinda fits the mold of underdog when you consider his backstory.

But, and this is my opinion, Ciel and Sebastian are NOT the underdogs. And I can’t help but think that if they both weren’t so pretty, you’d see a lot less people excusing their behavior or rooting for them.

I should also stress that I’m not talking about the people who look at these characters through a complex lense, I’m more so talking about people who are insistent that O!Ciel and Sebastian are good people/not evil.

Like I said, I get it and I empathize with the kid, but the kid is a BASTARD. He has progressively become an awful, awful person and that’s the POINT. And I can’t help but find it boring when people try to strip that away from him.

People feel bad for O!Ciel because he’s been through a lot, which yeah he definitely has. And people are mad at R!Ciel for standing against him and at Lizzy for turning on him, at least for now.

And, again, I kinda get it because we’ve been with O!Ciel for so long and it’s natural to root for him. But, O!Ciel is not the good guy! Lol what’s happening right now is that he’s currently being forced to face the consequences of his own actions. Which, let’s be honest, he wasn’t expecting to ever have to do because of his personal countdown death clock, Sebastian.

I can understand why he told those lies, especially at the beginning. But there’s no excuse for them anymore. He should have BEEN told everyone the truth. Would it have been easy? Of course not. But it would’ve been the right thing to do. While it’s understandable why he did what he did, he still took away his family’s ability to grieve and R!Ciel’s ability to rest, at least in my opinion.

Also, I think it’s important to note that, after a point, O!Ciel started to ENJOY being Ciel. So much so that he’s willing to fight the real Ciel for his own name. Which is absurd when you think about it!

His family absolutely ain’t shit for not only not noticing the difference, but also not doing anything to step in and really be there for that boy. But again, that’s part of the point of what Yana is trying to say in that upperclass Victorian society is/and was depraved, shallow, and mostly evil.

O!Ciel may have been thinking of the others when he made his initial decision but the decision was still selfish. I think that it’s ok to say that; while yes, he suffered from heavy survivors guilt and truly thought that his family would prefer for R!Ciel to come back (and unfortunately he wasn’t wrong), he still, if only subconsciously, wanted the power, prestige, and access that R!Ciel’s name carried.

He LIKES being Ciel now and loathes his old name and position. He LIKES the power, the access, the maneuverability, hurting people when they get in his way, killing those who wronged him, the security of Sebastian’s presence, the ability to make his dream come true (made a lot easier with Ciel’s name), the dark mind games he plays with people. ALL OF IT. He loves it and that’s the POINT.

And Sebastian is a demon. Yes we all know that, that’s not news. However, I still feel like we give the man (entity, whatever) too much credit a lot of the time. Again, mostly because he’s pretty.

Is it possible that he grew to care for O!Ciel in someway? Sure! And I do believe he legitimately has a lot of respect for O!Ciel. But I honestly think it’s more likely that the bastard is hungry and the current events are making him worried that he’ll end up being killed or losing his meal in the end. I don’t think it’s impossible or too much of a stretch to say that he’s grown fond of O!Ciel in someways, but best believe that child is food. Yana even outright says that Sebastian LOVES to see Ciel suffer! Only it’s not so fun when Sebastian is also suffering too, lol he’s a narcissist.

TLDR: It makes sense why people root for O!Ciel and Sebastian. But I think we give these two way too much credit sometimes and there’s an over abundance of people trying to absolve them both of their evil. They are both garbage (lovable garbage!) that are currently facing the consequences of (mostly Ciel’s) actions. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. Please don’t kill me.

[sometimes-i-write-good]

Where I’m From

Top Gun: Maverick - Hangman x f!reader [no use of y/n]

3.6k | Jake Seresin could handle lots of things. He was the only naval aviator of his time to have a confirmed kill - two, actually. He kept forgetting about that second one. It was newly under his belt, and, considering the circumstances surrounding it, he hadn’t felt too inclined to brag about it. Still, the point remained. Jake could carry the weight of taking a life, of saving a life, and of putting his life in harms way. 

What he could not handle was the weeping girl in front of him, brushing away tears on their first date.

===

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

CW: swearing, kissing, mentions of past relationships (neglect)

Author’s Note: Is Jake slightly ooc? Yes. I just wholeheartedly believe this man would be a gentleman on a date. Also, soft!Jake >>>>>>> || cross-posted on Ao3

Part Two

===

===

“You’re early.” You said, opening the door wider and waving him in once you realized it was Hangman (a story you were hoping to pry out of him on your date tonight) standing across the threshold. “I’m almost done, I promise. I’m so sorry.”

“No need to apologize, sugar.” Something about the careless way he slung around terms of endearment like that heated your cheeks.

Jake stepped in with that same easy grin he was wearing when he’d asked you out. You look good, but I think you’d look even better sitting across from me at dinner tonight. Cocky, arrogant. A toothpick rolling back and forth between his teeth. Not your type at all, but it had been so long since you last dated someone.

So, when the blond in a military uniform slid into the booth across from you this afternoon at lunch you agreed. Without a single care for all the alarm bells ringing and desperate reminders from your subconscious that all men sucked.

And now you were standing in front of him with a half-zipped dress, half done hair, and nerves that made your hands shake so badly it was hard to finish anything at all. “Give me 5 minutes?”

Jake nodded, then, as though remembering why he’d gotten here so early to begin with, he moved his hand from behind his back and presented a small bouquet of flowers to you. Simple and sweet. “These are yours, darlin’.”

The accent brought you back to reality. Tied you down to earth and kept you from tearing up. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I’m a gentleman, mostly,” Jake said, “so tell me where I can find a vase and I’ll get this set up. You go get ready.”

“Under the sink.” You waved your hand off in the general direction of the kitchen eyes still a bit too wide in shock. Someone had given you flowers. A complete stranger had given you flowers.

The stranger made towards where you vaguely gestured to but came halting to a stop shortly after. “Problem, doll?” He asked, turning back towards you with slight concern. Warranted concern, really, seeing that the noise that just escaped you made you sound like you’d been stabbed in the side.

“I’m sorry-”

“You need to stop apologizing.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You ignored the look he shot you. “I- just… can you take your shoes off? Please?”

An easy smile crossed onto his face. More human than those prideful grins his flirting game so heavily relied on before. “Yes, I can do that.” Jake laughed, but it wasn’t rude or condescending. A kind-hearted, ‘I am so glad that’s all the problem was’ kind of laugh. “Go get ready so I can make everyone in that restaurant jealous that I’m takin’ the most beautiful lady out on a date.”

There wasn’t much arguing with that. You’d tried to come up with something witty to say to him as you finished getting ready, but every time you thought of what Jake had said to you your heart would beat a little faster and your head would spin. It was pointless. You could hardly remember your name when you looked his square in the face. If you were to actually stare into those green eyes of his you’d surely melt into the floor. Exactly what happened when you finally emerged from your room, shoes in hand, and let him at the front door.

Jake had been lingering in the foyer staring at all the pictures on your wall and the decorations that comprised who you wanted the world to see you as. A bit to honestly now that your eyes followed his to the goofy selfies or the ‘boofa deez nut’ candle you’d gotten as a gag gift and proudly displayed as a middle finger to the friend that had gotten it for you. The embarrassment should have killed you, but instead it was Jake’s eyes flicking up to meet yours that did you in.

You stumbled slightly. In your attempt to cover the movement to make it seem like you were bending over to put your shoes on, you’d stumbled more. Jake moved forward almost unconsciously to steady you, let out a low whistle and said, “You clean up nice.”

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you’ve seen me looking like half a disaster.”

“If that’s half a disaster, then you truly do put the ‘hot’ in ‘hot mess’, sugar.” Jake laughed and opened the door for you. He held it open, closed it behind you, and waited as you locked it. Then walked with you to the car to open the door for you there as well.

You thanked him, short and polite and completely caught off guard. Everything he said in that short walk from your front door to his car completely escaped you. Something about how you made a casual dress look like the most elegant outfit on earth. Just another charismatic comment to deepen the warm pool in your stomach. As though there weren’t enough butterflies flapping around in there already.

“You can pick the music.” Jake nodded toward the radio.

“I like classic rock,” you said. “It’s my favorite, actually.”

Jake grinned. “After my own heart. See, I knew there was somethin’ about you.” He turned slightly to put his arm around the passenger seat as he reversed, and you caught a whiff of his cologne. Subtle. Yet entirely welcomed, up until he winked at you.

Maybe this was all a game to him. Jake seemed like the type to charm a girl and leave her heartbroken. The prying eyes at the counter back at the diner had almost confirmed that for you. Whispers and nudging that you had wished you’d seen before you agreed to go out with him. This whole evening could very well be some big bet for the hot shots in the Navy to cash out on. All at your expense.

“So.” Jake cleared his throat. “You from around here?”

Once again, an awkward reminder that the two of you knew nothing about one another besides your names and addresses. Well, just Jake knew your address. He’d insisted on picking you up.

“No,” you told him. “Midwest, born and raised.”

“Stir crazy so you moved out West?”

“Something like that.” You nodded. “I’m going to take a shot in the dark and say you’re from down south?”

Jake laughed. Your heart skipped yet another beat and if it didn’t stop doing that you were going to have to schedule an appointment with your doctor before the night was out. “You’re a good shot.” He glanced over at you out of the corner of his eye. “Texas.”

“Oh, a cowboy?”

“Hardly.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the best of the radio. “I know my way around a horse, but I like to think I belong in the sky.”

“So, I should call you flyboy instead?” You ask with a slight giggle to your voice. More nervous than anything but there’s no mistaking the way the corners of Jake’s lips pull back at the sound. You want to take a detour to base just to ask those friends of his if he normally smiles this much or if you can allow yourself to feed into the delusion that someone as stunning as him saw you in a rundown diner having lunch and was so enamored by you that he simply had to ask you out.

“Only if you put a ‘my’ in front of it.”

Conversation flowed easily after that. The drive to the restaurant wasn’t long but still let you have a good idea of who Jake was. A flirt, first and foremost. He couldn’t go thirty seconds without calling you ‘darlin’’ or ‘sugar’ and any way Jake could make a comment about how wonderful you were, he was taking it. You stared at him the entire ride, studying his profile. He was a handsome man. There was no denying that. Old-fashioned in the way where you and your friend would flip through history books and point out who you would have fallen in love with during that time period. If someone were to show you a grainy photo of a navy pilot, his was the kind of face you’d imagine.

He pulled into a spot, and you immediately set to unbuckling and letting yourself out of the car.

“Ah,” Jake said as he shut off the car, “stay where you are.” And he hopped out to jog to the passenger side. “Here you are, darlin’.” He opened the door, offering you a hand, and helping you out of the car.

“Do they teach chivalry classes down in Texas?” You ask. He’s too busy positioning your hand on his bicep and leading you into the restaurant, where he holds open the door for you again, to answer.

“Sersin. Party of two,” he tells the host, who leads you to a table with a single, unlit candle in the middle.

Jake pulls your chair out for you, then settles in across from you in a strange mimicry of earlier today. You half expect him to spew the same cheesy pickup line but instead he fishes a lighter out of his pocket to light the candle.

“That’s better,” he says and turns his full attention on you with a grin. “So, tell me everything there is to know about you.”

You laugh, genuine this time. “About me?” He nods. “There’s not much to know about me. I’m kind of boring.”

Jake shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m serious! My life is eat, sleep, work, repeat.”

“So is mine.”

“Yeah but you’re flying fighter jets and I’m too nervous to ask my boss for a promotion when I’m doing the work of two people.”

Jake’s eyebrows shoot up. “The work of two people, huh? You’re a hard worker, and I’m guessing you’re damn good at what you do, too. I wouldn’t call that boring.”

You roll your eyes at him, but the compliment brings a smile to your face. “I guess you could say that.”

“Okay, so, you’re hardworking, talented, and beautiful. What else is there to know about you, doll?”

“Actually, flyboy, I want to know why they call you Hangman.” You lean forward and rest your chin in your hand. “That’s what everyone was calling you earlier today.”

He nods, leaning back in his seat. You drink in the movement. The way Jake squaring his shoulders has his nice green button down straining against his muscles and how he runs his tongue over his lips as he conjures up a thought.

“The real story, Seresin.” You raise an eyebrow in his direction.

“You remember my last name?”

“I texted it to my friend just in case you were secretly trying to murder me.”

He nods slowly. “You can never be too careful now a days.”

“Yup.”

“Well, you can tell your friend the only reason I’ll be making you scream is because my tongue is magic.” The waiter chooses that moment to appear over your shoulder asking if you and Jake are ready to order anything, leaving you a stuttering mess as you struggle to order something to drink. You can hardly form the word water to the point that Jake does it for you. “Thanks,” he tells the waiter as he walks off. Then he focuses his full attention back on you. “You held yourself together well.”

“Oh fuck off, you did that on purpose.” By the way he doesn’t deny it, you can tell you have him pegged. “Back to your true story.”

“It’s not as interesting as the one everyone else likes to tell.”

“I don’t care, flyboy. I want to know you, not everyone else.”

Interest sparks in his green eyes. “If you insist.” He leans forward, mimicking the way you’re on the edge of your seat. “In flight school we were running drills out in an old hangar when this nasty storm rolled him. Hurricane level winds and shit. Came out of nowhere. None of us were feeling too inclined to make a run for it in that kind of rain so we figured we’d hole up in the hangar for a few hours. There was an old radio that worked for a little bit, and we figured there was no time like the presence to get some maintenance on this jet done until the weather down, but the power went out.

“We had some flashlights and lanterns and things so it’s not like we were totally in the dark, but the stories ran out fast. We were bored out of minds. So, I recommended playing hangman. Something easy and simple ‘cause you can’t get too competitive with these guys. They take it way too far.”

“By them,” you cut in, “I’m guessing you mean you?”

He nods. “I won every single round and stumped them with all my puzzles.”

“Impressive,” you say, “I bet that pissed them all off.”

“Let’s just say everyone else’s version of why they call me Hangman holds a slight hint of disdain.”

The rest of the dinner flows naturally. You two talk without a single lull in conversation. He makes you laugh. He continues to compliment you every chance he can. But the real thing that works its way under your skin and lodges itself in your chest is the way he offers to switch plates with you when you take a bite of your meal and realize you don’t like it.

“No, Jake, you don’t have to. I’m a big girl. I’ll just deal with it.”

“Nonsense. It was my recommendation anyway.” Jake stares at you, jaw set, and voice firm. “I am not having you starving on this date. Give me your plate.”

And so, you swap plates with him taking a bite out of the steak he’d been raving about in the car when something in you breaks. You can hear how excited his tone of voice was. “It’s hard to get a decent steak when you’re on base.” He had told you. “The chow hall is okay if you like shoe leather and all, but now I hardly have time to make a decent cut of meat for myself.”

He gave it up so easily. The minute you set down your fork after three or four bites. Jake was telling you he’d switch. It… it was too much and you couldn’t help the sweeping off tears pushing at the back of your throat.

“Ah, shit.” He whispered. “Do you not want the steak? I can order you something else-”

You cut him off with the wave of your hand, which you quickly used to press over your mouth and stifle and unflattering sob. “No,” you whimpered, “this is perfect. Everything is perfect.”

“Are you sure?” Jake asked. “Because most ladies don’t start crying on dates when things are going well.”

You could tell he meant well. There was a joking lot to his voice and the bastard grin was back in his face but it only reminded you of how out of your element you were right now.

“I’m sorry.”

“I already told you to cut that out, sugar.”

“I know.” You sniffled, but tears kept falling. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“It’s okay. Just take a deep breath.” Jake softened a bit. He reached out across the table, palm up waiting for you to slip your hand in his. When you did, he squeezed softly. “Want to talk about it?”

With your free hand you swiped at your cheeks. “I haven’t been on a first date in- actually, I’ve never even been on a date.”

There was no denying the way Jake’s eyes widened. “You’re tellin’ me men aren’t breakin’ down your door to take a pretty thing like you out on dates?” You shake your head. “See, that’s the issue with California folk, they’re idiots.”

He grins gently at you, which you return in full. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would.”

“I’ve had a couple boyfriends, but we never did relationship stuff.” Jake’s brows furrow in confusion and you rush to explain. “They would never want to leave the house. If I wanted to go out it would have to be by myself. They never asked me on dates or called me ‘darlin’’-” Jake rolls his eyes at your imitation of his accent- “or tell me I look beautiful. None of them ever held a door open for me. This is the first time I’ve even gotten flowers…” you trail off and bite down on your lip.

“I guess I should have seen it coming,” you fill the silence. “Everyone I’ve ever been in a relationship with has cheated on me. I guess I’ve always been a side chick or a rebound or whatever and you don’t really take side chicks out on dates. I always figured I wasn’t worth the romantic stuff, but there you are taking me out to a nice dinner and swapping dinners with me and… and I got overwhelmed.”

Jake is staring at you with a strange mix of anger and confusion. The gaze is lacking pity, which you appreciate. If he were to think of you as a poor girl who couldn’t land a date, you’d walk home before finishing this dinner.

He says your name so softly for the first time that night. There’s a thousand times more emotion in that name than all the pet names he’s been calling you.

“This isn’t romance.” The words make your heart sink. “This is the bare minimum. Basic kindness, sweetheart. You deserve this and nothing less. I- it makes me so frustrated to hear you talking about a relationship where some asshole let you believe you didn’t deserve to be treated like a princess.” Jake’s voice wavers slightly as he talks, anger bleeding in but not raising his voice to an unacceptable level. “Where I come from this isn’t chivalry. This is the way things are done. If I’m taking a beautiful girl like you out on a date, you better believe I’m going to make sure you know that I’m the lucky one.”

More tears prick at your eyes. Your bottom starts to quiver and when you open your mouth to apologize for getting weepy again Jake shakes his head at you. “I don’t know which one of those ducks told you that you had to apologize all the time, and I’m sure it was one of them, but you never have to apologize for things like this, doll. You’re allowed to have feelings. You’re allowed to talk about them.”

“Yeah, but it’s not good etiquette to bring up your exes on a first date.” You slip your hand from his to better wipe at your face. This sinking feeling of shame seeps into you. You probably look like just as much of a wreck as you were turning this date into.

“So this won’t be our first date, then.” Jake says it so simply. The easiest solution in the wonderful despite it not making sense in the slightest.

“What?”

“We’ll call this afternoon our first date. I stole food for your plate and took a couple sips of your drink, so it counts.” Jake grins at you. “This is our second date, which means it is completely okay to talk about your exes.”

With a small sniffle you manage to meet his eye again. The intensity that he looks at you has your face warming up again. “I have to say, Jake. I think I’m the lucky one tonight.”

“You’re not sitting on my end of the table.”

===

Bonus:

Jake insisted on opening the door for you again when he pulled up to your house after dinner. The two do you had lingered as long as humanly possible, but the wait staff looked as though they were going to run the pair of you through with a kitchen knife, so you reluctantly chose to head back towards home.

“Thank you.” You grabbed his hand as you stepped out of the car.

“Gives me an excuse to walk you to your door, pretty girl.”

“Oh, so this was all part of your masterplan?”

He laughs and stops under the light of your porch light. You’re fiddling with your keys, not too eager to open the door and end the night. Jake steps closer towards you, saying your name again for the second time that night. It’s a magnet, pulling you towards him so that his hands can settle at your waist. Those green eyes of his flick down to your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“I was waiting for you to ask that.”

Jake slides a hand from your waist to cup your cheek and he brings his lips to yours. No kiss you’ve ever had feels the way this one does. Right. Even your long-term relationships were twinged with shame or doubt. Kissing Jake feels like forgetting your own name is completely normal because you want to be washed up in this feeling of bliss for forever. He pulls away after a few seconds, resting his forehead against yours, and it takes him a moment to finally open his eyes.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask, voice cracking slightly.

“I don’t know,” he says, “I don’t want you to think I’m only trying to hook up with you.”

You smile and press another soft kiss to his lips. Once again Jake takes a few seconds afterwards to fully look at you. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re having hesitations about sleeping with me on our second date and that’s something only gentlemen do.”

Jake laughs. The sound is like the bliss of your kiss personified. You want to drown in it.

“Plus, I think you promised me that I’d have a story to tell my friend about how good your tongue is… or do you only use your mouth to talk big game?”

He nipped at your bottom lip. “Unlock that damn door right now, dollface.”

You thought he’d never ask.

[fancifulplaguerat]

Okayyy I want to analyze that introductory conversation between Georgiy and Daniil because I’m running in circles in my room right now it’s such clever character writing I want to talk about it !!!!!!

Classic Daniil obviously appears in Town-on-Gorkhon in desperate circumstances, so I find it notable that Georgiy first claims that the Kains are not only familiar with Daniil’s work, but “aware of the difficulties you were experiencing and well-prepared to do our utmost to support you.” That Georgiy tells Daniil this directly before the ‘Simon is dead’ reveal and Georgiy’s request for Daniil’s help reads like an attempt to establish an immediate quid pro quo rapport between Daniil and the Kains. In particular how Georgiy—having professed to know the dire nature of Daniil’s situation—does indeed introduce a quid pro quo: that he will reveal the secret to Simon’s longevity, provided that Daniil helps the Kains:

Georgiy Kain: Immortality is the greatest secret humanity is forbidden to possess. Still, my brother managed to break the seal that locked it away from everyone else. > How? > Well, fine! In any case, I came here to see a mystery, not a person. I am willing to sell my soul to you if you help me reveal it. How can I help? * Georgiy Kain: I will tell you who my brother was, and who he has become, if you find his murderer. For now, let me bring up the fact that Simon lived one hundred and fifty seven years without being susceptible to any kind of disease—no influenza, no pneumonia, no hemorrhage, no organ failures or malignant growths have ever plagued him. > Yes. I believe in that. >I came here to witness the possibility of such a phenomenon; but immortality…

Here I want to take a detour about that “How can I help?” I know Daniil has a fanon reputation for being an impassioned dickhead to anyone who has the displeasure of speaking with him, but across routes he appears collaborative when not in the throes of frustration or anger. I.e. with Rubin: “If we act deliberately, and with calm mind, we can prevent this epidemic. Stay strong, I won't leave you on your own.” He’s always struck me as quick to and even overly-trusting; one dialogue that particularly interests me in this respect is with the tutorial Executor, who notes, “He who trusts everyone is asking to be deceived,” to which Daniil can reply, “Yet he who trusts no one is deluded. I know that from experience.” I would argue trust appears important to Daniil and his collaborators, given that he tells Victor “I hope we will be able to work in the atmosphere of mutual trust” and Artemy, “I have good reasons to trust you. I count on your integrity.” That trust is shown beside that apparent willingness to collaborate in the Haruspex Route in particular, Imo, when Daniil says, “Come no, Artemy… I’m sorry if I came across as condescending. I only want to help. Remember how you helped me when I was running circles in the dark?” and “Then help me out, Artemy, and I’ll help you back.” I find it particularly important that Daniil apologizes for potentially being condescending, which particularly suggests a desire to work as equals to me.

But I feel this dialogue especially effectively introduces Daniil’s perceived sense of responsibility. He basically professes his philosophy in this department, telling Georgiy “Categories like ‘time,’ nature,’ and ‘fate’ deprive man of responsibility for what goes on around him. I was taught to avoid this worldview.” This implies to me that Daniil has an internal locus of control and potentially views his reality as largely influenced by his own action. (In particular joined with comments like “I always follow my principles” or “I do not trust anyone blindly. That goes against my principles.”) I gesture to this dialogue a lot but I think it’s pretty pivotal to his characterization, and is of foremost importance in Georgiy’s tactic to ally Daniil with the Kains (and consequently set him on his narrative path) given how much Georgiy hammers into that poor sod’s skull that Simon’s death happened on his account. But I want to briefly digress, because even though Daniil says this, Daniil’s decision to go to Town-on-Gorkhon is one “to follow what he believes to be a sign of divine providence.” Daniil also tells Yulia, “I would have told you that I’d been brought here by the hand of fate not so long ago, naïve man that I was…” Which. I have no entire answer to this but it strikes me juxtaposed to that previous trust quote with “I know that from experience,” as though Daniil has undergone some sort of shift in his worldview OR (which I lean towards) he was just that desperate he believed it was fate. Again, I have no further insight on that, but. Intrigue.

To return to the main event:

Georgiy Kain: It could be that my mind is clouded by sorrow, but I cannot escape the feeling that your arrival is no coincidence. Your choice was made for you, my dear doctor! Let us not blame… fate for it. > So Simon wasn't aware I would come? Georgiy Kain: Even though we were uncertain of when you would arrive, my brother was looking forward to meeting you! The tragedy may have been a consequence of the actions he took in preparation for your arrival. Somebody has taken a powerful piece from the chessboard; a piece upon which your position here depended. It is doubly regrettable that Simon was playing on your side... > So you presume the queen knew of the blow and sacrificed itself for a pawn? But why? > My sincerest condolences to you. Is there anything I can do to help? Georgiy Kain: To grant you victory over death! Was it not your ultimate aspiration? To help you, Simon seems to have played a very dangerous game with… fate itself. He went out of his way to provide you with a body of evidence. > What did he do? > If that is indeed so, I feel obliged.

Firstly, Georgiy potentially appeals to Daniil’s sense of collaboration with that insistence that Simon was anticipating their meeting—perhaps strengthening that previous claim that the Kains would “do their utmost” to help him. He proceeds to again emphasize that Daniil’s arrival is tied to Simon’s death and thus assign responsibility to Daniil, and I think it’s a clever writing move that Daniil can respond with a reciprocal Chess metaphor. Not only does this suggest Daniil is picking up what Georgiy is putting down, figuratively playing his game, but the dialogue also shows Daniil assuming responsibility by framing Simon as having sacrificed himself for him.

And Georgiy’s next line makes me fucking crazy the way he positions Simon’s death was directly for Daniil’s benefit, to provide precisely what Daniil needs to save himself and his lifework. That second dialogue option also reinforces Georgiy’s tactic to me, how Daniil explicitly says that he feels personally responsible to help the Kains if Simon died for his sake. Georgiy continues in customary Kain Brother Manipulation of treating Daniil like the chosen one, which—to be fair, given Simon’s dialogue, he very much is. Georgiy says: “I am convinced that if there is anyone at all that can help us solve this puzzle, then it is you. This mission calls for someone as astute and inventive as yourself,” in appeal to Daniil’s intelligence, but Georgiy again reinforces Daniil’s personal responsibility with “If Isidor was an instrument of fate, then Simon’s murder is a message that fate intended for you personally,” and twists the knife with “I repeat: everything that is happening here is happening on your account.”

JUST. ACK. The way this entire dialogue functionally communicates some of Daniil’s behaviors and philosophies while being the catalyst for his narrative makes me want to shovel sand in my mouth.

[ozarkthedog]

Could I also request something for Mr. Ben using #89 from the prompt list? 😊💗💗

summary: the repercussions of sending your boyfriend nudes while he's at work.

“YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING?!”

warnings: 18+ only. Mr. Ben x fem!Reader. spanking. fingering. dirty talk.

word count: 628

author's note: thank you so much for celebrating and putting this obscene thought in my brain. hope you rot in horny jail with me. 💙 FIRST TIME WRITING MR. BEN!

✨10K Birthday Celebration✨

“YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING?!”

You almost spit your wine all over the dining room table as your boyfriend, Ben, stands before you aghast. 

It was harmless fun, really it was. You had some time to kill after lunch and thought he’d enjoy the naughty surprise. It was rather stupid in the long run to send him topless photos while he was at work but you’d barely seen him all week and your hormones got the best of you.

“Thank god I didn’t have my phone connected to the monitor!” His hands perched on his hips as pins you with a hard stare. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

You squirm in your seat. His tone is harsh, leaving no room for error. You fucked up big time.

You shake your head and begin to apologize but clicks his tongue and stalks towards you.

“Too late.” He hisses. 

With ease, he tugs you from the chair only to take your place as he tosses you over his lap. “Maybe this’ll teach you a lesson.”  

In a flash, he yanks your panties and leggings half way down your thighs and locks your legs together. You teeter on his lap, his solid muscly thighs press crudely into your curves as you sweetly beg forgiveness. 

“Hush, Baby.” Ben’s chest rumbles as he smooths his hand over your ass. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you bent over like this. Taking your punishment like a good girl. Made me so fuckin’ hard.” 

A heavy hand lands on your rump with a thwap. You jolt and grab his calf as the pain radiates across your flesh. Your head hangs between your shoulders as you bite back the whimpers that threaten to fall spank after spank.

“You’ll be my good girl, right?” He grabs the base of your hairline and yanks your head back. His nose grazes your cheek as he nuzzles his lips against your jaw. “Answer me.” 

He carelessly rubs the tender, raised skin on your ass forcing a whine to bubble from your lips. 

“Yes, please. I’m sorry.” You sniffle and yelp when he tugs on your locks.

“Thatta girl.” He beams before lowering your head to hang once more. 

His sinful touch moves lower, nestling thick fingers between your thighs, he finds you slick and wanting. “Lookit’ you getting soaked from a punishment.” He tsks. “What am I gonna do with you?”

You mewl as he spears you open with his fingers. He deviously glides his thick digits across every spot that makes you see stars and leaves you breathless. “You’re making a mess. Can you hear it?” A continuous sticky sound hits your ears with each overwhelming thrust of his wrist. 

“You know, this isn’t how a good girl is supposed to behave.” His condescending tone has you lurching in his lap. Suffocating bliss fogs your mind and seeps into your bloodstream. “Good girls don’t  drip down their thighs from getting spanked.”

Your grip on his calf gets tighter as the pleasure mounts and races up your spine. He wickedly curls his fingers, zeroing in on the spongy spot behind your clit as your cunt pulses and constricts. “That’s it. Good girl.”

With a shout, you cum around his fingers and he continuously fucks you through your orgasm despite your whimpers of protest.

You hear him groan as he sucks your cream off his fingers. His hard cock pokes into your belly and ignites a searing burst of arousal deep in your belly. He slips you onto your knees between his thighs and you come face to face with his throbbing cock hidden beneath his slacks.

“Now you show me how sorry you really are.”

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

so basically, all this to say: evan - still dating with failed relationships. emma - winning in life with an engagement ring on her finger. happy now? i mean you coulda just said that

I didn’t mean to make you mad, Admin. And this is not what I said or wanted to say (Evan - unhappy, Emma, happy) I was simply stating that you cannot just look at their dating history and work history and state that one is doing “better” than the other. That anon literally said “imagine how she must feel” ?? Insinuating that her life is crap compared to Evans. Soooo many years and new events and relationships have happened since then. We always say we don’t know what happens behind closed doors and we don’t see every moment of Evans life and we should give the same energy to everyone else including Emma. I think it hurts people that she has a lovely fiancé like they are rooting for her to fail and I do actually understand why - her past behaviour is NOT IT. I didn’t see any photos of her leaving her son in a car? I haven’t seen any photos of her snorting Coke since becoming a Mom? I’m happy to be proven wrong, honestly. Being a Mom is so hard and maybe that’s why I’m thinking a little differently than some on here. People with kids understand differently. Sorry to have a different point of view. I mean no hate or offence, honestly. I love the conversations on here 🫶🏻 Maybe comparisons between men and womens success and happiness trigger me in some way.

before i say anything else, i want to say i think that last part is what happened and why it came across as it did. because i totally and completely understand this, but in the context of our conversation and what we were discussing and comparing, i don't take it as a comparing man's happiness and success vs. a woman's. i really just think that because of the way emma acts, the way she mistreats people, the way she luxuriates in making others feel small and less than her, that these things would certainly weigh on the ego of such a person - male or female, ex of evan peters or not. in every sense of the word, emma did dominate evan's life and make it a hell as much as possible. she abused and belittled him, and now he is enjoying a much better life for himself.

"People with kids understand differently" i mean this in a gentle way, not as an attack: please do not say things like this to childfree people. i don't think you necessarily meant it in a negative way, but it is incredibly condescending and not necessary to bolster your argument. your opinion is to be respected regardless, and i respect your perspective and i understand why you feel the way you do; there's nothing wrong with it. it does not warrant an apology, we are free to have objecting views and differing opinions, but the whole ''engagement is a validation'' and ''having children elevates my opinion'' is harmful. it simply doesn't need to be added. both emma and evan have had failed relationships, but you brought up her engagement as a trump card, which isn't cool in my opinion. that's the only thing i truly object to. i hope you can understand where i am coming from.

also, let me clarify: there are no photos of emma doing coke or of her son in a car. these are reports from normal people online who have witnessed it. none of this is new. but rather a pattern of behavior that predates her even dating evan.

[quindolyn]

Ma’am i am begging for a wolfstar blurb where Remus has a innocence kink and Sirius has a corruption kink

With love, my vagina

Dumb Bunny || Remus Lupin and Sirius Black

Word Count: 4,553

A/N: I hope you like this Bo, you’re my favorite and you know that. I also wrote like 90% of this in one sitting so I don’t know if it’s any good because you usually i take breaks and come back and look at what I’ve written but who knows. Love you so much my love.

Warnings: degradtion, praise, names like slut and dumb, blow job, oral virgin, dogg style, this is post Azkaban kinda

Masterlist

Kneeling at Remus’ feet staring up at the outline of his cock pressing up against his pants was daunting. You’d never actually given head before, had guys asked? Sure, but it had just never seemed worth the trouble, you’d never actually gotten a good look at any of their pricks because as soon as you’d nixed a blow job they were desperate to get inside of you.

Not that that had been all that great either, but you digress. 

You watched with wide eyes as his nimble fingers moved to the button on his slacks, pulling it through the hole before unzipping his zipper which allowed his slacks to drop and pool at his ankles. 

This left him in only his navy boxers which allowed you to get a much better look at the outline of his cock, you could almost see the ridges of the head as it was jostled around when he stepped out of his pants, kicking them to the side as he repositioned himself in front of you. 

You sat there, unmoving as you stared down his cock, not quite sure what to do now.

“Come on Pup, don’t tell me that you’re so clueless that you don’t know what to do with a cock when its been laid out in front of you,” Sirius sniped from where he stood, leaning nonchalantly against the wall as his eyes raked over your figure, clad only in the pair of pale pink panties and matching bra that you had put on hours earlier. “Don’t tell me that you’re that useless.”

“M’not useless,” You grumbled, casting your eyes down in shame, “I just, I’ve never done this before.”

“Speak up there Pup,” Remus commanded gently, slipping two strong fingers under your jaw to tilt your head up so that you could meet his gaze, “Can’t hear you when you mumble, and s’not nice to not look at someone when you’re talking to them.”

“M’sorry sir,” You apologized, trying to keep your eyes on his and not on his ever growing bulge, still straining against the material of his boxers, “I was just saying that,” You gulped, casting a sidelong glance at Sirius before moving your eyes back to meet Remus’, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Never done what before?” Sirius asked from off to the side, his smirk evident in his voice as he moved to stand next to Remus, “Come on bunny, wanna hear you say it.”

You looked up at Remus with pleading eyes but it was clear he wasn’t going to call his dog off, “I’ve never given head before, I’ve never sucked…” You felt your face heat up as you trailed off at the implication of your words.

“Oh come on,” Sirius chuckled, kneeling next to you so that you were of equal height, “Don’t get shy on me now, you can say the word puppy, I know you can.”

You found yourself not mortified by his condescending matter but rather ridiculously turned on, you could already feel a knot begin to form in your belly.

Sirius kept his eyes trained on you expectantly until you finally relented, “Cock,” As the single word slipped from your mouth you felt embarrassment bloom in your belly which was silly really, it was only just a word.

“Come on now, all together,” The dark haired man grinned mischievously.

“I’ve never sucked cock,” You admitted bashfully, looking to Remus to measure his reaction. You were nervous, not only had you never sucked someone off before but both men were a decade older than you with more sexual experience. What if you weren’t good, or you couldn’t take them and triggered your gag reflex? With all of these thoughts swimming around in your head it was hard to form a coherent thought and that was purely from nervousness, you couldn’t imagine what it would be like when you had them inside of you.

He had to restrain himself from groaning, both at your words and the innocent look on your face as you gazed up at him, “You’ve had sex though right baby? We’re not gonna take your virginity are we?” He asked, because if he and his lover were about to be your first time it was going to have to be a whole lot more special than this.

You were quick to shake your head, “No, I’ve had sex, I’m not a virgin.”

“Well in this hole you are,” Sirius captured your jaw, turning it to face him. His thumb brushed against the seal of your lips in a nonverbal command for you to open them, which you did of course.

You watched with wide eyes as Sirius gathered spit in his mouth before he spat it into your mouth, the taste of him bleeding across the expanse of your tongue. 

“Let me see Pup,” Sirius commanded as you stuck your tongue out, allowing him to see his spit on your tongue before he gave you your next direction, “Good girl, now swallow.”

Not as restrained a man as Remus he did groan watching your throat with an unguarded lust that had you shivering at the idea of what thoughts laid behind that gaze.

“Pads is right, you’re a very good girl,” Remus praised, directing your attention back towards him. Your mouth dropped open at the sight you were met with, Remus’ stiff cock standing proud and tall in front of your face with his hand wrapped around it.

“Am I going to suck your cock?” You asked, wide eyed and slightly concerned as you gazed up at Remus. Though his dick was prettier than you anticipated with its bright red, leaking tip, and the ridges caused by the veins that ran along the sides it was absolutely mouth watering, but the idea of fitting that in your mouth was nothing less than nerve wracking.

He let out a low chuckle, one of his strong hands moving to brush your hair out of your face, his eyes trained on your lips, “No, not yet baby. Gonna wrap those pretty lips around Sirius he’s a little bit smaller, it’ll make it easier for you.”

You heard Sirius grumble in discontent at the comment as he pushed himself up to undo the buckle of his belt, shedding both his trousers and boxers with far less dignity than his counterpart. Though yes, he was a bit smaller, it didn’t appear to be a significant difference and did little to soothe your woes about your potential performance. 

“Don’t worry Poppet, m’gonna teach you how to suck his dick. It's not hard I promise,” The tall man knelt beside you, his hand still on his prick as he smeared a kiss along your temple. You allowed your eyes to close at the contact, leaning into the touch as Remus guided one of your hands to his cock. It practically jumped into your grasp as oppositely charged magnets would attract each other. 

Though you’d given a hand job before Remus’ much larger, scarred hand found its way to encase your’s, guiding you through the motions of pumping up and down the shaft.

“How about me?” Sirius sounded petulant, like a child, but there was absolutely nothing child like about the way his dick rested heavily in the palm of his hand, he wasn’t as long as Remus but what he lacked in length he made up for in girth. The head of his member was more purple than red, though it leaked just as ferociously with the beginning drops of precum.

“He’s right Puppy,” Remus told you, pulling his lips away from your temple so that you would be forced to support the weight of your head on your own and meet his eyesight, “Gonna teach you how to give a blow job, okay?”

You nodded your head, “Yes, Sir.”

Impatience radiated off of the man who stood before you, the head of his cock staring you down, before you could talk yourself out of action you reached out and took the shaft in your hand, getting used to how it sat heftily in your hand.

“You’re gonna want to spit in your hand first Pup, it’ll make it easier,” Remus suggested, his length still secure in his own hand. You followed your instructions, switching Sirius’ member to your nondominant hand while you spat into the other one before resuming your previous hold.

Gazing up at him as you worked your hand up and down the length of his shaft you noticed the way his eyes were entirely consumed by lust, shining grey irises now black, blending in with his pupils.

“Use your thumb to smear the precum baby, like that,” Remus continued to coach you, watching as you ran your thumb over the sensitive head of Sirius’ member and how he jolted at the motion, “See he likes it.”

“Do you? Do you like it, Daddy?” You peered up at him through your eyelashes, cocking your head to the side without ever relenting the movement of your hand, “Am I doing a good job?”

Remus groaned from beside you, his gaze having left the dick in your hand, now landing on your face. Sirius simply smirked, dark curtains of hair framing his visage, the mere sight of him looming above you was enough to make you embarrassingly turned on, feeling pleasure begin to simmer in your belly you could only imagine how it would feel when you had him in your mouth.

“You’re doing a very good job Puppy,” It was Remus who spoke this time, “But it looks like Pads might be a little desperate to get his cock in your mouth, you think you’re ready?”

“I think so,” You nodded.

That was all Sirius needed before he was releasing his member from your hold, gripping his hand around it pumping it once, then twice before bringing the head to rest on your bottom lip. Tracing the seal of your lips with the weeping head of his prick he spoke, “Come on Puppy, wanna be the first cock in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

“You heard him (Y/N), open your mouth, time to take his cock.” Remus said from beside you.

“B-But I’ve never done this before, how am I supposed to know what to do?”

Getting more and more frustrated with the fact his prick still wasn’t in your mouth Sirius began shifting his weight from foot to foot anxiously.

“Don’t worry, it’s gonna be alright,” The werewolf soothed you, running his fingers through your tresses, “Gonna help you.”

Glancing over at Remus for one last confirmation you didn’t realize what Sirius was doing until it was too late and his member was making contact with your cheek as he slapped it against the side of your face, streaking precum across your skin, “Hurry up slut.”

You whimpered at the degradation of both his words and his action as you felt a pang of pleasure zip through your body, shivering at the filthiness of it. You shifted in your spot, trying to rub your thighs together to soothe some of the ache that resided there and that wasn’t showing any indication of relenting but neither of the older men were having it.

“Stop that,” Sirius growled, capturing your jaw in his hand, pushing your cheeks together so that your lips were forced open, “Not about you right now, you’re supposed to be getting me off,” With that, having lost all patience he pushed the head of his cock into your mouth, releasing a strangled groan as he stopped himself from pushing in deeper. 

Remus let out a small chuckle shifting so that he was closer to you, “There you go Poppet, just start with the head. You wanna be sure to keep your teeth tucked away so that you don’t hurt him,” Leaning in closer towards your ear he added something else in a low whisper, “We can do that later, yeah?”

You let out a small giggle, which because it was muffled by the cock sitting inside of your mouth sent vibrations of pleasure through Sirius, starting at the head of his member and working their way up the shaft. Unable to control himself he bucked into your mouth, not considerably deep but deep enough to jar you. 

“Careful Si,” Remus scolded gently, one of his hands going to grip Sirius’ bare thigh as a reminder not to rush. Looking at you he saw the tears brimming in your eyes at the sudden and unexpected motion, “Puppy,” He cooed, caressing the side of your face with his knuckles, “Gotta breathe through your nose, do you know how to do that baby?”

Shaking your head gently you were careful to keep your teeth tucked away behind your lips while still signaling that you had no clue what you were doing. 

“Are you choking on my cock?” Sirius mocked you, the concerned tone of voice so sickly sweet it was nauseating, “Not even doing anything with it, just sitting there in your mouth and you can’t even take it,” He thrusted up gently into your mouth, just enough for the head of his cock to brush up against the roof of your mouth as cause you to gag around his length.

“Be nice Sirius,” Remus seethed through gritted teeth, glaring up at him while he pet your hair, grounding you as you focused on inhaling and exhaling through your nostrils. Concentrating on that helped you to calm your gag reflex, no longer having a problem with how his member was positioned in your mouth.

“Daddy can be mean can’t he?” Remus directed his attention towards you, his tone was so falsely sympathetic that it worsened the need bubbling up inside of you as the pleasure in your stomach continued to simmer. 

You stopped yourself from nodding again, this time letting out an affirmative hum which pleased Remus as he watched Sirius’ hips stutter as he refrained from forcing his length all the way down your throat.

“You can suck harder bunny, it’ll feel good and he’ll tell you if something hurts or doesn’t feel good, gotta trust him to do that.”

Taking his advice you sucked more harshly at the member inside of your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head while looking up at him to gauge his reaction, he was still looking down at you, unblinking as though if he lost sight of you for even a moment the pleasure would stop. 

Remus slid his body behind yours so that your back was pressed to his chest with his cock achingly pressing into your bareback, smearing precum along your skin.

“Gotta hollow your cheeks Pup, like this,” His fingers found their way to either side of your face, pressing gently on your cheeks until he could feel the cock inside of your mouth. “It’ll feel good for him, make it tighter like it would be if he was fucking your cunt.”

One hand quickly abandoned your face, sliding its way down your stomach until his fingers were brushing the top of your lacy panties before slipping just his fingertips beneath the material. He simply cupped your pussy possessively, not working his fingers between your folds or into your hole, but just resting there, clutching you.

“Fuck Moons,” Sirius gritted, “She’s a fucking natural, hollowing her cheeks so prettily for me it’s like fucking her actual cunt.”

You whined at his words, squirming once again trying to relieve the ache burning between your thighs, the way he spoke to Remus, to Sir, like you weren’t even there. It was deliciously objectifying, degrading, and you loved it. 

Remus smiled into your neck as he moved to nip at your ear, the contact subtle, but still enough to have you shivering as pleasure tickled at your nerves which felt frayed and exposed, with every motion, every exhale against your skin it was like on fire had been set to each of them individually.

“Gonna make him feel even better now poppet, bob your head up and down and you’re gonna take your hand,” He took one of your hands, which had been resting on your thigh, and guided it to the base of Sirius’ member, “Just move it a little bit, on what you’re not able to fit into your mouth, don’t wanna neglect it.” 

Following his instructions you worked the exposed length of him in your hand as you bobbed your head up and down the rest, taking about half of his cock into the velvety warmth of your mouth. Running the brunt of your tongue along his shaft you acted upon the courage you felt surge through you, using the hand not at the base of his cock to grapple at his balls. 

You were more than pleased with the strangled moan that fell from Sirius’ lips, you’d gotten groans out of him earlier but not a moan. Remus noted this as well, his mouth still pressed against your ear, “Look at that, he’s so pretty with his head thrown back like that, moaning, and all because of your mouth.” 

One of his fingers found your bottom lip which was dripping with saliva, and he ran the pad of his finger along the cushion of your lip, pressing gently. 

“How’s it feel, Pads?” Remus looked up at the other man.

“She was born to suck cock,” He exhaled sharply as you took him deeper in your mouth, making a point to continue to hollow your cheeks.

The hand cupping your sex slid a finger between your folds, collecting your wetness on a singular digit causing you to jump at the contact before you rolled your hips towards his hand nonverbally begging for more.

Moving his lips to suck dark purple hues into the delicate flesh of your neck Remus spoke into your skin, “Once you make Daddy cum then it's your turn Bunny, don’t be greedy, you gotta give before you get.”

Taking his words at face value you became even more determined to make Daddy cum, knowing that not only would it be a personal feat, your first blow job, but that when it was done you would be getting so much more.

Breathing in sharply through your nose you willed your gag reflex not to act up as you pushed your head down on his cock, taking in as much of Sirius as you could which you were pleased to see that it was a majority of his length inside of your mouth by the time you hit your limit. 

You sucked more harshly at his member, swirling your tongue around what you could before Remus rose from where he had rested behind you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before moving to stand next to Sirius. You whimpered when his fingers slipped from your cunt but were intrigued as you watched through your lashes. Observing as Remus’ hands slipped under the smaller man’s shirt, palms running up and down the toned planes of his stomach as he meshed his lips with the other man’s.

You were unsure but you thought that you heard a command for Sirius to rid himself of his shirt as he quickly undid the buttons, letting the dress shirt fall to the floor with Remus’ quickly following suit.

Watching the two men make out with each other, Remus’ hands nestling themselves in Sirius’ long hair and Sirius’ gripping at Remmy’s bare ass, spurred you on in your efforts to make him cum.

Adjusting Siri’s length so that it sat comfortably in your throat and that so you could feel where it bulged against your throat before you swallowed around his length.

If the feeling of his load being shot down your throat wasn’t indication enough that your little trick had done the job then the sharp, “Fuck” the man released from above you certainly was. 

You swallowed his cum just as you had his spit before easing yourself off of his length, taking extra care to keep your teeth from his sensitive cock. Looking up at him with wide eyes you watched him lay his head on Remus’ chest as marks similar to the ones left on your neck were left on his, and though yours were beginning to feel a bit tender you knew that Sirius was loving his as much as you were loving yours.

“Did I do a good job Daddy?” You looked up at him owlishly, cocking your head to the side.

“Fuck Moons if you don’t fuck her I will,” Was all you got in response as Remus chuckled into the newly bruised skin of his lover pulling away to assess you. 

He frowned looking at you as he noticed that you were still in your underwear, “Up,” He ordered, once you were on your feet he was in front of you in a single stride, strong, scarred arms were extending around your torso to undo the clasp of your bra, pulling the straps off of your shoulders allowing the garment to fall to the floor before kneeling in front of you to tug your panties down which you then stepped out of.

“On the bed,” He ordered simply, your panties hanging from the crook of his finger as he moved to deposit them in the pocket of his blazer, cock bobbing in the air as he moved about the room.

Positioning yourself on the bed, on your hands and knees you caught a glimpse of Sirius lounging on an armchair in the room, cock resting against his thigh as he recovered from his first orgasm of the night. He shot you a lazy smile before raking his eyes along your form, studying each ripple and ridge hungrily. 

On your hands and knees, you felt uncomfortably vulnerable but you knew it was all worth it when you felt Remus settle in behind you, his hands moving to grip your hips and pull you back towards his pelvis.

You pushed your bum back towards Remus as you felt the head of his cock run through your soaking folds, you were almost embarrassed by how wet sucking Sirius off had made you but you couldn’t quite summon the energy.

“Don’t rush bunny, I got you, I promise,” With one hand guiding his cock and the other anchoring you to him he pushed just the head of his member inside of you. You clenched around him, trying to suck more of his length up into you because though you technically had him you needed more.

Not feeling particularly patient himself Remus wasted no time before pushing the entirety of his length inside of you, growling as your cunt pulsed around him. 

“Sir!” You moaned feeling yourself stretch around him, having never taken his cock before you weren’t ready for the way that he stretched you so wide it was bordering on painful just barely avoiding tipping over the edge. 

Allowing you a moment to adjust to his length he pulled out of you until his member barely rested inside of you before thrusting himself all the way back in. A hand running down your back signaled for you to arch your back for him which of course you did.

His pace was fast but deep, the depth of his strokes consistent as he reached depths inside of you you hadn’t even known existed before. Pistoning his hips in and out of you the rhythmic sound of skin slapping up against skin filled the room and you could feel his balls slapping up against your clit which each and every thrust.

“Pretty bunny,” Remus’ low voice sounded through the room, accompanied by the sounds of your skin against each other as he leaned back to watch his member disappear in you before pulling back out, “Such a pretty bunny for me, so sweet and innocent aren’t you?”

“Yes Sir,” You responded, allowing your head to drop and hang as you fell onto your elbows rather than your hands.

Sirius tutted as he rose from his seat in the corner, his beautifully tattooed body still glistening with sweat as he began pumping his cock while walking towards you, “Please, she’s not a pretty bunny, she’s a little cum slut. Dumb little bunny.”

You whined out at his degradation, your eyes squeezed shut as a wave of pleasure coursed through you causing you to let out a ragged breath. 

“See, she likes it, dumb bunny.” Though you couldn’t see him you were sure that he was grinning wickedly down at you.

“No m’not! I’m a pretty bunny,” You insisted, though your message was a bit undercut as you slurred your words.

“That’s right, pretty bunny,” Remus cooed, groping the globes of your ass in his hands, squeezing the flesh before pulling away to observe the handprints he left on your skin, if only for a moment.

“She wants to be, but she’s not, she’s just a cock hungry slut.” Sirius countered and you looked up at him with pleading eyes, desperately seeking his approval but all you got was a sneer as he pumped his cock next to your face.

“Not nice, Sir says you’re mean,” You whined as Remus continued to thrust in and out of you, rather enjoying watching the interaction between his two lovers.

“Oh is that right? Well, I don’t fucking care if I’m mean, you’re a dumb fuck bunny and if telling you that is mean then oh well,” He grasped your jaw in between his hand, forcing your head up at an uncomfortable angle to make eye contact with you, “Guess I’m mean.”

The whine you released at that was perhaps the most pathetic of the night, you felt pathetic at the gush of wetness you felt at his words, the pleasure in your belly progressing from a simmer to a boil as Remus’ hand reached around to find your clit, pinching the sensitive bundle of nerves between his thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t listen to him,” The man buried deep inside of your cunt told you, “You’re my pretty bunny, keep on being my pretty bunny, prove Daddy wrong.”

It was all too much, the contrast between Remus’ praising words and Sirius’ harsh ones, the sight of Sirius’ tattooed hand working up and down his shaft, Remus’ pace in and out of you and his hand on your clit. 

It was just all too much.

You could barely see straight as the pleasure boiling in your belly overflowed, like hot lava flowing you felt pleasure flow through your veins as you climaxed. Your orgasm left you feeling warm in every nook and cranny as your eyes rolled back into your head. It felt like you were underwater as your thoughts swam around you, mingling with the noises in the room around you.

Your head was still heavy as you opened your eyes which you hadn’t realized you’d squeezed shut, you jolted forward as Remus continued moving in and out of your pussy, trying to get away from his cock. Your orgasm had been electrifying leaving you sensitive but Remus didn’t seem to be relenting.

“Don’t recall telling you you could cum Poppet,” Remus said from behind you, and that’s when you realized why he wasn’t stopping, “Maybe Daddy was right, maybe you are just a dumb bunny.”

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Ficlet: Nothing changed

It was unnaturally cold for this time of year. That is what the crimson heroine thought to herself as she dashed across the rooftops in the city of love.

She landed on the roof that was their usual meet up point.

"Just in time My Lady." Chat noir purred. "Looks like you are keeping your promise about not missing our patrols."

Ladybug wished she could be in a happier mood. She was questioning whether she should even tell him about what she did.

"Ladybug? You in there?" Chat noir inquired. "I called you my Lady again and you didn't correct me?"

His question snapped Ladybug back to the present.

"Huh? Oh, right sorry." She apologized.

"A lot on your mind?"

"You could say that."

"Do you want to talk about it? Or is it guardian stuff?"

Ladybug decided she would tell him after patrol tonight, she didn't want the mood to be soured over this.

She takes his hand.

"We can talk later. But first, Paris needs protecting." She smiled sweetly. The cat felt a faint blush on his cheeks. But the feeling faded when he realized she had taken off.

"Oh! So thats how you want to play." Chat noir smiled.

The two teens patrolled the city from above. They made sure to protect several food stands... in case an akuma was Hangry. Making time to take photos. They even comforted a girl after a bad date, preventing an akuma in the making.

It had been awhile since Chat noir was able to enjoy a patrol with Ladybug like this. She wasn't so high strung trying to force herself to have fun or so quick to get out. It was like nothing had changed. Perhaps Ladybug had finally found a good balance, he hoped that was the case.

Though as soon as it started, the patrol was at an end. Chat noir wishing it could have went on forever.

"Well sadly while the night is young, we must part." Chat noir acted out like a thespian. Using over dramatic hand gestures to exemplify his 'Heartbreak.'

"Silly kitty." Ladybug let out a sigh and light giggle. Oh how it was music to his ears.

"Well good night bugaboo. I will dream of you." He teased.

Ladybug's expression went grim.

"Wait a second."

Chat noir stopped himself from leaping.

"Yes My... yes Ladybug?"

Chat noir could tell that the mood had shifted. He had gotten better at reading her emotions and it was clear she was going to say something serious. He put away the mental clown nose.

"I... I need to tell you something important." Ladybug spoke. Her words holding much more weight with each passing second.

"Look Ladybug... if this is too much you don't have to tell me. I know that..."

"No, I need to tell you this. Even if it hurts." Ladybug interrupted. Her voice shook in that moment.

The air blew much colder to the cat.

"Okay, what is it?"

Chat noir prepared for some sort of verbal punch. Whatever it was, he was sure he could take it.

"I told someone my identity."

He was wrong. It was like he had the air knocked out of him. That couldn't be right. There was no way she would.... right?

"I'm sorry Ladybug. I think I must of misheard what you said. Cause it sounded like you said you told someone your secret identity." He tried to make light of it. His body shaking as he forced a Cheshire grin.

"You didn't. I told someone who I am under the mask."

His heart felt like it was dropped off the roof of the building they were standing on.

"You mean someone forced you to tell them? Cause we can track them down and fix it."

"I told someone, of my own free will, who I am. I know that comes as a shock. You are right to feel mad."

The cat hero looked at her, his expression became unreadable.

"Mad? You think I would be mad about this?" His voice trying to so hard to maintain calm when every part of his heart feels like he is being stabbed. "I am hurt, that you would think that."

"It wasn't something I did to hurt you. I just felt the pressure of everything... and I couldn't.... I couldn't bear it alone." Ladybug answered. She was not happy with this. She knew chat noir would feel hurt, but she never expected this.

Chat noir took a deep breath. He would ease himself. He needed to be rational. Ladybug was being honest with him. She could have just kept it from him. He needed to understand how hurt she must feel about all of this. Even if this felt like his heart was being dissected, he would not make Ladybug feel worse about this. He would try to be understanding.

"Okay... I understand. Fu had Marianne. Its okay that you would tell someone."

Ladybug eased a bit, the cat seemed to be coming around.

"It wasn't something I wanted to do. I know how much this must sting hearing this."

This felt so condescending to the black cat. And that was the last straw.

"No. Not at all. I mean sure I want nothing more in life then to know who my closest friend and crime fighting partner is. And sure, I completely hated the rule with a passion that could rival the desire shadow moth has for our miraculous. But I stuck to it because, hey, it was for the sake of Paris and it made sure we could stay safe from the crazy super villain. It made sense, and even though I wanted to tell one person who I love who I am, I couldn't risk it. Even though it ruined the relationships I had, I endured. I did it because, Ladybug was counting on me. I did it because even though it was killing me internally, Ladybug was bearing the same burden! It was us against the world! I could endure it with her! I guess that was a lie too!"

Chat noir took a breath.

"Chatton..."

"Im not done." He snapped. His smile had vanished, showing a nasty snarl.

Ladybug felt herself step back. The ferocity of that statement triggered a long suppressed fear. Something she wished she would never see again. The reason why she didn't want him to find out her identity. She saw the anger of Chat Blanc.

Chat noir noticed the fear on ladybug's face, and the tears forming in her eyes. He had gone too far. His anger replaced with horror at what he had done.

"Wait... Ladybug... That was too far."

"No... you're right to be mad. I broke your trust. I forced you to agree to things you hated and then I broke the rule I set. I just... I couldn't take it. So I know I am being selfish to expect you to take it in stride. You don't deserve this. I would understand if you hate me and want to quit..."

Chat noir hugged her. Catching the red heroine off guard.

"This isn't your fault. Yes I'm mad. I am also hurt and feel betrayed... but I don't hate you."

"You don't?"

"I couldn't hate you Ladybug. Its not like I've been the perfect partner. I've screwed up too. But you still want me around right?" Chat noir answered.

"I don't think I could be ladybug without you."

Chat noir felt his emotions ease.

"And I couldn't be Chat noir without you."

He releases the hug.

They stood in silence for a few minutes. Both taking calming breaths. They wanted to ensure they were both able to continue talking without a potential akuma risk.

"So, you told someone because you needed someone to talk to because being the guardian along with other stuff was too much for you to handle quietly. " Chat noir asked calmly.

"Yes, that is what happened."

"It was better you told someone then just suffered alone. I wanted to be your support... but I understand that its dangerous right now if I know who you are and vice versa." Chat noir continued.

"I know its hard to accept..."

"No no, lets not try and ease it. I will accept it over time. I just want you to know that its okay that you did that. I want you to know that despite how much it hurt, I am glad you told me now. Finding this out... that might have hurt so much worse. It would have felt like nothing changed from back then."

Ladybug knew he was referring to how master fu had kept her from tell him about things. How he was left in the dark? She hated that period of her life.

"When this is over, when Hawkmoth is done. I swear we can reveal our identities to each other. We can even go catch a movie."

Chat noir smiled a bit.

"I would like that."

In the end, Chat noir was still hurt by this, but he knew how to take a bit of pain. He would move past it, he and Ladybug would still be partners. He still love her dearly. Nothing changed.

[rodr1cks]

Sick Day | 2.1k

fluff!! you’re sick and rodrick comes to the rescue.

warnings: vomit, being sick in general

All day you had been feeling extremely ill. The nurse at school was being impossible and refused to send you home, despite your pleas.

“Please Mrs. Williams, I feel terrible you have to believe me!”

She was extremely skeptical, “Child, do you know how many times I hear that in a day? You don’t have a fever, back to class.”

And just like that, you were dismissed. Sent to endure the rest of your classes in misery.

The day went by painfully slow after your trip to the nurse. The fluorescent lights berated your pupils making it impossible to concentrate and worsening your headache.

It was sixth period, the last class of the day. Also your least favorite class of the day. You couldn’t stand the teacher. Mr. Wright. He was your classic asshole history teacher.

You were completely zoned out, trying to focus on not vomiting. Your name being called pulled you out of your haze.

“Miss y/l/n? Do you care to answer me? Unless you’re busy of course.”

Condescending bastard.

You held your tongue, swallowing any smart-ass comments that threatened to spill past your lips. You cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry, what was the question.”

He went through the whole “this is a learning environment” lecture after that. Again, you didn’t listen. You couldn’t have even if you wanted to. Thankfully, he left you alone after that.

Finally, the last bell of the day sounded through the school. You lept from your seat and ran to the bathroom. You practically body slammed the door open. Luckily, the bathroom was empty, most kids having already filed out of the main doors, eager to begin their weekend festivities.

You were hunched over one of the white porcelain bowl, tears filling your eyes.

Today could not get any worse.

After taking a few deep breaths, you were able to compose yourself enough to exit the bathroom.

You crossed your fingers, hoping that the halls had been completely evacuated.

You crept through the empty corridors and out into the parking lot. You were especially dreading the walk home today.

You were walking through the parking lot, enjoying the fresh air when you saw him. Rodrick Heffley.

The two of you were best friends in elementary school but you drifted apart after a while. You honestly developed a certain distaste for him, as he had you.

Please don’t notice me, please don’t-

“Y/n!”

Shit.

“Rodrick!” you feigned enthusiasm.

His brow furrowed, “You look… paler than usual?” You rolled your eyes, classic Rodrick. You wanted this interaction to end, immediately. “Yup. Not feeling well.” You deadpanned, providing little detail.

Rodrick hesitated for a moment, “Well, let me drive you home, kid.”

Kid. Who did he think he was?

“I think I’ll pass, weather is nice today.” The weather was far from nice.

“Oh really, the weather is nice, y/n? Where are you right now? Because it’s raining where I am.”

He sighed, “and I also saw that little performance Mr. Wright gave you...”

Oh so he pities me.

“Rodrick, If I get in your van will you stop talking?”

He motioned, pretending to zip his lips up and throw away the key. A small smile spread across your face but you didn’t let him see that.

A few minutes into the drive, you decided you were glad you let him take you home. The sky had opened up and it was storming.

Oh God.

“Rodrick, pull over, now.”

He looked over at you and could tell what was about to happen. He pulled over quickly and you opened the door. You leaned over and vomited right onto the grass patch parallel to the road, in the pouring rain.

Coyly, you returned to your seat in the van. You were unsure if you should apologize, so you stayed silent.

“Y/n, are your parents home?”

He knew they never were. Ever since you were a kid, your parents had been anywhere but home. Business trips, vacations, retreats, you name it.

You looked down at your shoes, water dripping from your hair, and shook your head.

“Alrighty then, change of plans.”

You protested, “Rodrick that’s really not necessary I’ll be fine.” Part of you knew there was no point in arguing. If he was one thing, it was stubborn.

He reached out, placing the back of his hand on your forehead to prove a point, “Y/n, you’re burning up. You’re coming with me.”

You were closer to his house anyways. That’s how you justified it, at least.

His van pulled into The Heffley’s driveway. Rodrick got out and rushed around the vehicle to open your door.

“Come along, y/n. I know somebody who will be very happy to see you,” he grinned.

The front door swung open and you were hit with a wave of nostalgia. The Heffley’s house was always warm and always smelled spectacular. Somehow, Mrs. Heffley was always baking or cooking something.

“Y/n? What a nice surprise this is!” Mrs. Heffley beamed. She had always loved you. “How I’ve missed seeing your face around here!” She said, placing her hands on your checks.

“You’re soaking wet!” You nodded awkwardly in response. “And goodness, you’re burning up! Are you feeling alright?” She felt your forehead and cheeks, then squeezed your shoulders gently.

From a young age, Mrs. Heffley had looked after you as one of her own. Nothing had changed it seemed.

“No, actually,” you smiled half-heartedly. Mrs. Heffley frowned at you. “Rodrick, get her some dry clothes, would you?.” Rodrick nodded, leading you up the stairs.

You stood in his room, obviously uncomfortable. He was knelt in front of his dresser, digging around for something.

“Ah! Here it is.”

Rodrick whipped out a t-shirt for you to change into. He grabbed a pair of black sweats from another drawer as well.

“Here you are, mademoiselle.” He stuck out the wad of clothing in your direction. You couldn’t lie, you were happy to have some dry clothes to change into.

You stepped into his bathroom, taking a moment to examine your appearance. You looked rough. Intense bags hung low under your eyes and you truly did look more pale than usual. Fantastic.

You emerged from the bathroom, Rodrick’s clothing drooping slightly from your frame. Rodrick was sitting on the end of his bed and he patted the surface.

You joined him on his twin mattress, only because you were exhausted.

“Rodrick, why are you being nice to me?”

He looked guilty. “You’ve had a rough day, y/n…”

He sucked in a breath, “...and y’know I’ll always care about you.”

How could he still care for you? You completely wrote him off when high school began.

“Listen, y/n, the past is in the past, okay?”

A genuine smile appeared on your face. Before the moment could become too sentimental, Rodrick interjected.

“Oh! Be right back,” he chirped.

He ran downstairs and came back with an orange soda and some cold & flu medicine.

Rodrick explained himself, “Orange! Like, vitamin C, right?” He looked too happy with himself, you couldn’t bring him down. At least his heart was in the right place.

Concealing your laughter to the best of your ability, you accepted the beverage and medicine from his hand.

You hated this kind of medicine with your whole heart. The orange soda could be useful honestly, just not for its nutritional value like Rodrick intended.

Rodrick measured out the appropriate amount of the medicine for you as you cracked open the can. He handed you the small cup full of the thick, red liquid.

You threw back the grotesque cherry flavored solution, grimacing as it coated your throat. You chased the medicine with the orange soda. See, it did come in handy.

You leaned back into Rodrick’s pillows, trying to relax.

About fifteen minutes later you felt extremely drowsy. “Rodrick, can I see that bottle?”

“Uh, sure,” he said, confused.

You read the bottle and instantly threw your head back in annoyance. “Rodrick this is the drowsy kind!” You continued inspecting the bottle, “and it’s extra strength!”

With each second passing, it got increasingly difficult to keep your eyes open.

Everything was blurry and you were teetering between consciousness and sleep.

“Rodrick,” you slurred. “I’m so sorry I stopped talking to you… stopped being your friend. Felt like I wasn’t cool or pretty enough… didn’t deserve you.”

Rodrick was extremely confused. You thought you were too good for him? He had to hold back a laugh.

He couldn’t conceal his smile, “Excuse me? Y/n, that must be the nyquil talking.” He rolled his eyes and brushed off your comment, contemplating the sentiment for a mere moment.

You eventually drifted off, unable to ward off sleep any longer.

When you woke up, you first noticed rodrick. He was sitting on his beaten up couch with his headphones covering his ears. You could hear the muffled baseline from your spot across the room.

How are his eardrums still intact?

Rodrick had a shoebox on his lap and he was shuffling through the contents, smiling to himself.

You cleared your throat, obtaining his attention.

“Oh, y/n! You’re up!” He smiled at you, ripping off his headphones.

You nodded slowly, knuckling your eyes sleepily.

“What time is it?”

Rodrick glanced at his watch, “It’s only 8:30.” You nodded again, continuing to rub the sleep from your eyes.

Rodrick stood, picking up the box and walking over to you. “Look,” he said softly. You peered down into the small shoebox and numerous photos and letters.

“This one here is my favorite,” he said quietly. It was a picture of you and Rodrick at the roller rink. You recognized the photo immediately.

“Seventh grade kick off,” you smiled. You took the box from his lap and began looking through each photo, braided friendship bracelet, concert ticket.

You laughed as each item brought back memories you had long forgotten.

You stopped at a photo of the two of you dressed up in ridiculous outfits. You wore a sequined hat and Rodrick held his drumsticks in hand.

“Was this when we saw Good Charlotte?” You asked.

He giggled, “It sure was. I remember thinking I looked so hot that night. Guess not huh.”

“What are you talking about, you looked incredible Rodrick. Seventh grade me was dying to jump you right then and there.”

His face lit up, “Really?”

“No,” you flashed him an expressionless look before breaking out into side-splitting laughter. He joined you.

You missed this feeling of pure, unadulterated joy. Rodrick was the only person who you had truly experienced that with.

You sighed to yourself. Come tomorrow, you’d be back to strangers. Tears welled up in your eyes and your lip quivered. Rodrick was oblivious until a single tear drop fell onto the photograph below you.

He immediately tried to comfort you. He placed an arm around your shoulder, dragging you into his larger frame. It caught you off guard but you allowed yourself to melt into his touch.

Rodrick distracted you from your sorrow. “Look at this one right here.” It was a photo of you and the Heffley Family in their backyard. You and Rodrick were around fifteen, if you remembered correctly.

“This was the day that I realized I had a big, fat crush on you.”

He followed up, “S’lame I know…”

Heat flooded your cheeks, this time the heat was not a result of your illness. Was it anxiety? Happiness? Both? You couldn’t decide.

“You never really explained why you stopped talking to me and coming by my house.”

You shrugged at him, feeling like your explanation would make him mad. “Well, Rodrick, you started getting new friends. Friends that were better than me or cooler than me.”

“Y/n that is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I could never replace you. To this day, nobody’s ever come close.”

He gave you a playful smack over the head.

“...anyways, to be honest that crush never really went away?”

Before you had time to process the sentence he was gently grabbing your chin, turning your head.

You were facing him now, your lips only inches away from his.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Y-yeah, yes, I think so, yeah.”

He laughed at you and leaned in slowly. Rodrick used one finger to gently move your hair out of your face.

The kiss was gentle and filled with emotion.

You felt like you hadn’t known what you were missing out on until that moment. You felt completed.

“Oh shit, I better not get sick!”

[romioneficfest]

Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato

Title: Double Hazlenut Almond Milk Macchiato

Prompt: Day 2/Meet-Cute

Tumblr Name: 

Rating: General

Summary: Muggle AU. Hermione Granger is new in town, and she has a pretty complicated coffee order.

Trigger Warnings: N/A

xxx

It’s seven o’clock on a Monday, and the morning rush is in full swing at The Burrow. Forming a line out the door and around the block are dozens of important, yet fidgety business people with complicated coffee orders, and little patience.

Ron Weasley opens every morning, Monday through Friday, and he handles it well. Most customers are regulars, and he’s already memorized their morning joe specifications.

The majority of the morning crowd has been forgiving of the occasional slip-up. Seven years of working the first shift at the family-owned coffee shop means a history of accidental extra-whipped cream, almond milk instead of soy, and finger-slips on the espresso machine, and the customers always return.

Maybe it’s because they’re too tired to notice their Americanos are actually Flat-Whites. Or maybe it’s the hospitable vibe of The Burrow that makes complaining about bad latte art seem as petty as telling Grandma her muffins are dry.

Every now and then, there’s a new customer, and Ron has to whip out his earnest, people-pleasing attitude to assure that the newbie sticks around. He’ll do what it takes to turn them into a regular, and make them thankful that they chose the local joint over the cookie-cutter corporate shop across the street.

‘Take an interest in their day!’ his Mum would say. ‘Validate their order! Then make sure to ask their name, and use it!’

Monday morning, at seven o’clock, is one of those times.

“Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato.”

“Size?”

“Medium.”

The customer is about Ron’s age, and probably new in town. She doesn’t yet know that at The Burrow, ‘Double Macchiatos’ are simply called ‘Tall Macchiatos’, and instead of ‘small’, ‘medium’, and ‘large’, The Burrow’s sizes go by their family pets in order of mass: Pig, Errol, and Chudley.

“Great,” he says, grinning, “coming right up.”

“Make sure it’s almond milk,” she reminds him.

“Yup.”

“And hazelnut,” she adds.

“Yup.”

“Double-shot—”

“I heard you,” says Ron impatiently. Have a little trust, lady.

“Okay, just making sure!”

“Can I get a name for the order?”

“Hermione.”

Ron stares at the girl. Her brown eyes are round and drowsy, her hair is unkempt and wild, which contradicts the clean lines of the business suit she’s wearing. She looks so normal. “Can you repeat that?”

“Hermione. H-E-R-M-I-O-N-E.”

He hadn’t asked her to spell it, and the way she emphasizes each syllable reminds Ron of how adults would read to him when he was a kid. It’s condescending.

“Coming right up, Hermione.”

“Great.”

Ron resists rolling his eyes. He can handle a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato, and if he screws it up, she probably wouldn’t even know the difference. Most customers wouldn’t.

As Hermione paces by the counter checking her watch, he whips up a medium, double, hazelnut, almond milk ...cappuccino. Just to test his theory, of course.

“Here you go!”

He hands the drink to Hermione and watches as she takes a sip. Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, he’s convinced she can tell…

Then her face melts back to a polite grin. “Thank you!”

Maybe she can’t. Ron shakes his head as she turns and leaves, turning his attention to the next customer’s order.

Hermione returns on Tuesday morning at 7 am sharp. Her hair is pulled back into a stiff, tight ponytail that just barely lassos her wild mane, and she probably checks her watch fifteen times while in line. Ron suppresses a scoff—she can just make coffee at home if she’s in such a rush.

“Morning, Hermione!” he says with a forced smile. “Same as yesterday?”

She looks taken aback at first, clearly not expecting him to remember her name. “Um, yes, same as yesterday.”

“Coming right up.”

“Medium, Double, Hazelnut—“

“Almond Milk Macchiato,” he says. “I got it.”

“Okay,” shrugs Hermione, eyebrows raised. “Then do it.”

What’s her problem? “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she snaps. “I need coffee, not a counseling session.”

Wow. He wants to retort back, but his mother’s nagging voice in his head stops him.  ‘Always be extra-polite to grumpy customers; remember they haven’t had their coffee fix yet.’

“Of course,” Ron says through gritted teeth, in as polite a tone as he can manage. To satisfy his desire to argue, he whips her up a medium, double, hazelnut soy macchiato, only half-hoping she doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t get a chance to see if she does, because she’s out the door before a single sip.

Her Wednesday return is accompanied by a looming dread in the pit of Ron’s stomach. He hates rude people, especially at 7am. Ron spots her impatiently tapping her foot in line, as usual, and prepares himself for their interaction.

“Hello,” he says politely, stopping himself before the natural ‘how are you?’ escapes his lips. “What can I get for you today?”

“Hi,” she says with a sheepish smile. “The same as yesterday.”

“Which is?”

“Erm,” she stammers, her expression confused, “a medium—“

“I’m kidding,” he laughs, “I know your order.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

She pays, and Ron fixes her a medium double caramel almond milk macchiato.

“Sorry about yesterday,” she says when she picks up her drink. “You were just trying to be nice, and I was rude.”

“Oh,” starts Ron, who isn’t expecting an apology. “That’s okay. Happens a lot during the morning shift.”

She smiles and nods before turning around to leave, taking a sip on her way out the door. Ron watches for her reaction, but doesn’t catch it.

She seems to be in a better mood by Thursday.

“The usual,” is all she says when she arrives at the counter, but this time she’s smiling. She looks different when she smiles—pretty. Something else unidentifiable replaces the dread in his stomach. Ron wonders if it’s the first time he’s seen her smile or if it’s just the first time he’s noticed.

But based on the tired circles under her eyes, she’s exhausted, so Ron prepares her a medium triple hazelnut almond milk macchiato. An extra shot of espresso never hurt anyone, and maybe it’ll help her get through the day. Or maybe, she’ll experience a coffee crash and have to return to The Burrow later.

Both good things.

“Just so you know,” she says as Ron hands over her cup, “it’s been a stressful week. I started a new job, and it’s not going well.”

“I’m—I’m sorry to hear that,” says Ron. He looks into her eyes, and for a moment, they soften. There’s more to her tough and professional exterior.

“These have made the week just a little better,” she adds, holding up her macchiato, before smiling softly and turning to leave.

Of course, Hermione requests her usual on Friday, and Ron is quickly running out of ideas for ways to screw with her order.

In celebration of the weekend, he might be able to pass a large off as a special treat. Other than that, he has to stick to the request—a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato. The first of the week. Better not mess it up.

As soon as he pops the cap onto her cup, it looks empty. He reaches for his marker again and scribbles something else—his phone number.

He’s not sure what compels him to do it. Maybe it’s because the larger size leaves so much white space. It could be because the grumpy brunette has been occupying his thoughts all week — he’s never purposely tried to fuck up someone’s coffee five days in a row.

Or maybe, it’s because when she walked in this morning, he smiled, and he just wants to learn more about the woman who thinks she knows what a double hazelnut almond milk macchiato tastes like.

She’ll probably ignore it anyway.

But later that day, his phone buzzes on the counter, and he scrambles for it faster than he’d run away from a mob of spiders.

The text is from an unknown number, but there’s no mystery. It only took five days, but you finally got my order correct!

Ron scowls at his phone. She knew? She was duping him?

Well, Hermione, why’d you keep coming back?

As soon as the message sends, he’s impatient, tapping his foot, pacing, and jittery. Just like Hermione every morning.

His phone flashes and buzzes, and Ron almost drops it by checking too quickly.

It wasn’t for the coffee…

[cinnoasch]

I just had an idea, Akechi with an S/O (their not dating yet) and they have a toxic boyfriend and when Akechi meets him he just thinks, "guess i have one more target" and he tries the hardest to keep up the Detective Prince facade in front of this guy because he's just filled with so much rage at this one man.

A/N: Ohoho, I love this idea. I had an idea for a bad ending of sorts, but let me know if any one wants that ending as well. Thank you Anon and hope you enjoyed! And hopefully this turned out alright!

C/W: Toxic relationship on/off, slight cursing, angst(?)

Word Count: 1885

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hostile Third-Wheel (Goro Akechi x Reader)

“You look upset Y/N. Did something happen?” Akechi asks, looking up from his paperwork when he notices your expression.

You let out an annoyed sigh, waving your phone in the air as you sit across from him. “My boyfriend. He accidentally reserved a table for 3 for our date tonight and being the stubborn lazy ass he is, refuses to call the restaurant to change it. He told me to invite a friend.”

“On your date?”

“Mhm, and he said...” You say as you hear your notification ring. “To preferably bring a girl... ‘Just kidding, winky face.’“

“He sounds like quite the charmer. And you can’t change the reservation yourself?”

“You know how the restaurants are, they rather have the person who did the reservation to change it.”

“You do make a valid point. Well then, how about inviting me?”

You look at Akechi in surprise. “You want to tag along on my date? Wouldn’t you just feel like a third wheel?”

Akechi smiles lightly, “Well, I guess I would feel like somewhat of a third wheel, but I have never met your boyfriend. I’d like to know what your taste in significant others is like.”

“Not funny. But I will say, it hasn’t been... the best. I think I really... got it this time.”

Akechi noticed the hesitation on your face and in your words but he didn’t mention it. He knew the many heartbreaks you had been through, although he never met any of your previous significant others. He was the one that you called during those nights, hearing your crying and hoarse voice as you explained how you recently were dumped. While it hurt more for you than him, Akechi could not help but feel upset. He may be the only one who harbored feelings between the two of you, but even if you did not return those feelings; he’d still be there for you no matter what.

“Anyways, I am allowed to join you two right? Your boyfriend won’t mind?”

“Not at all. He says he’s fine with it. So see you tonight at 7? It’s the one restaurant near Seaside Park in Odaiba.”

"Ah, I’ve been there on occasion. If I remember correctly, you often frequented the restaurant with your previous significant others. You know if you keep bringing them to the same restaurant for dates, it’s not as special as it seems.”

“I know, I know. I guess I just stick with what I’m comfortable with. Any who, see you tonight!” You say with a wave as you take your leave from Akechi’s apartment.

When you close the door behind you, your smile fades. You had been through this too many times before. You knew what was going to happen tonight. And after tonight, the cycle would repeat itself just like it always had for the past few months.

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

“So, this friend of yours, is Goro Akechi?” your boyfriend asks as you two walk the path heading to the restaurant.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“No particular reason. I just hope you don’t think about leaving me for him. We’ve been through this enough times, so you know the drill. We always come back to each other.”

“I know... the thought never crossed my mind.”

“Not even once?” They ask, tilting your face towards them.

“Not even once.”

“Good.” Your boyfriend removes his hand and opens the door for you. “Let’s keep it that way then.”

You sigh quietly, straightening out your clothes as you walk through the door. You never knew why you always got your hopes up. Breaking things off and getting back together was what your relationship was. You knew from the start that the relationship wasn’t good, but you always found yourself drawn back. You always questioned why this was the way that things were. Were you just content with any type of love? Even if it was the worst kind? Or were you just denying the fact that you could never have anything better than this?

You feel your arm being tugged as you look up to see your boyfriend trying to move you along to the table.

“C’mon, your friend’s waiting.”

You give a nod as you walk to the table with your boyfriend. Akechi waves with a smile when he sees you two, and stands up from his seat.

“Hope you weren’t waiting long, Akechi.” You say with a small smile.

“Not at all. So this is your boyfriend? I’m Goro Akechi, pleased to meet you.” He says holding his hand out for a handshake.

Your boyfriend introduces himself, lightly shaking Akechi’s hand as he does. The three of you sit down at the table and decide what to order before starting a conversation.

“So, how long have you two been dating?” Akechi asks. A small smile graces his face, however he was staring intently at your boyfriend. You noticed that your boyfriend did whisper something to Akechi earlier while they were introducing themselves, so you were somewhat concerned.

You’re about to answer but your boyfriend slings an arm around you with a grin. “Y/N and I have been dating for a few months now.”

“A few months? Is that so? Y/N told me they’ve had a few other significant others within the past few months.”

“Ah, that’s them trying to save face. Y/N and I have a sort of on/off relationship. They just can’t get enough of me so they always come crawling back.”

Akechi glances at you but quickly turns his gaze back to your boyfriend. “Really now? How peculiar, you don’t see those quite often anymore.”

“I guess not, but guess we’re just made for each other.”

Akechi only nods in agreement, his fists were clenched underneath the table. Was he upset that you lied? Yes. But the thing that bothered him the most was your boyfriend. He could immediately tell that your boyfriend was bad news when he saw you two walking up to the restaurant. How he had that condescending look on his face when he talked to you, his words just now, implying that you couldn’t do any better than him. It made Akechi’s blood boil.

It seems that I have a new target to take care of.

Soon the waiter comes and takes your orders, silence filling the air for a few seconds until your boyfriend speaks up.

“So, Akechi. You’re that Detective Prince that’s always on TV right?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

You twirl your straw in your drink, already knowing the question that would pop up.

“You must have a lot of fans, right? All those girls surrounding you must be nice.”

“Well, fans are expected, although all of the attention can be a bit much at times.”

“Ya don’t have to lie, you must love the attention right? Though I’m surprised you aren’t dating someone yourself. You could get any girl.”

“I suppose. But I bet if you were in my shoes, you’d relish in the attention wouldn’t you? You strike me as the type of guy who... sleeps around I would say.”

You shoot Akechi a look, but he only dismisses it with a smile and laughs. “Aha, I apologize. What am I doing asking those sorts of questions with Y/N here?”

Your boyfriend chuckles, “Oh, Y/N doesn’t mind. Isn’t that right, babe?”

“Like hell I don’t.”

“Oh come on, Akechi’s just joking around.”

Akechi grins, “Well... it seems my deduction was correct. You are that type of guy. Truly despicable. Y/N deserves much better than you, don’t you think?”

Your boyfriend stands up angrily, “What the hell are you trying to say?”

“Other than you’re a piece of shit?”

You stand up next, “Alright, let’s all calm down now. Akechi, a word?”

Your boyfriend sits back down, crossing his arms as you take Akechi to the side to talk to him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? You’re the one who’s forcing yourself to be in a relationship with that dumbass over there.”

“Who I date is none of your business.”

“It is my business. Who’s the one who has called me every time crying because they got dumped? What’s even worse is that you do nothing to get yourself out of it.”

“Who says I haven’t tried?”

“Y/N. Look me in the eyes and tell me you’ve actually tried to get out of your relationship.”

You clench your hands, unable to look Akechi in the eye. Who were you kidding? You had simply accepted how things were going to be between you and your boyfriend. An on and off relationship that only hurt you.

Akechi sighs. “Look, I’m only saying these things because I care about you. And if you won’t break it off, I’ll do it for you.”

The look in Akechi’s eyes told you that he was dead serious. Yet, there was some hint of malicious intent behind his words. Would Akechi really turn to violence to break things off between you and your boyfriend? Well, that question wasn’t needed since you were made aware of Akechi’s hostile side.

“Fine. I’ll break it off. Just give me some time.”

“Hmmm, no. Do it now.”

You glare at Akechi. “Now? Are you crazy?”

“Like I said if you don’t, I will. And my methods are much worse than a simple ‘I’m breaking up with you’.”

You only nod, not wanting to barter with Akechi any longer, and walk back to the table where your boyfriend sat. When he sees you walking back, he stands up with a smile. “So, did you tell Akechi off? Ha, I bet the look on his face was priceless.”

“Actually no. I’m breaking up with you.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I’m tired of this, me staying loyal for some piece of shit boyfriend who sleeps around. I’m done with you.”

“You bitch!” He raises his hand to slap you but Akechi appears behind you and grabs his wrist forcefully.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Your now, ex-boyfriend looks at Akechi in fear. You didn’t want to turn around because you were sure that the look Akechi was giving this guy was one that could kill.

“Now, if you would please lower your hand once I let go.”

Your ex-boyfriend only nods and once Akechi lets go of his wrist he bolts out of the restaurant.

You let out a sigh of relief as you turn to face Akechi. “Thank you for that. I guess a push was all I needed.”

“Not a problem. But if I may ask Y/N, why did you put up with it? The Y/N I know would normally break it off immediately when it became that type of relationship.”

You chuckle a bit sadly as you seat yourself back in your chair. “You know, I thought so too. But eventually, it just became a cycle. My thoughts started to invade my mind, telling me that that type of relationship was the best that I could handle. That it couldn’t and wouldn’t get any better. I’m pathetic aren’t I?”

“Your taste in S/O’s could be considered pathetic I suppose.”

“Low blow, but I’ll take it.”

“Well you did need to hear it. Anyways, I think we can salvage this failed date somewhat. What do you say Y/N?”

“Sure, why not.”

[iwantutobehapppier]

Our Future

Pairing: Dark Steve Roger x reader

Summary: You left Steve after he did the unforgivable. But what lengths will he go to to make you forgive him? 

Warnings: +18 only, smut, dark themes, sex pollen, dubious consent cause ya know, implied cheating, dark Steve Rogers, dark avengers. Please if any of this bothers you read no further.

Word Count: 2.924

A/N: Happy 7th night of Chanukah! It’s almost to the end! Can you believe it?! Thank you everyone who has read, and reblogged. It means the world to me! Hope you enjoy this nice Dark Steve Rogers fic. Shout out to the ever talented @imanuglywombat​ for helping bounce some ideas off on this one I didn’t know totally where to go and she helped me find my way.

Trying best to hid your wince you hold your dislocated arm close to you to ease any jarring as you make your way up the ramp into the Quinjet. You’re fairly certain you’re bleeding somewhere if the wetness you feel in your suit is any indication. All you wanted to do was get back to the compound, see medical, then make your way to SHIELD Strike quarters with some good narcos.

“Let me see your arm,” you could break glass with the intensity your jaw clenches at the sound of his voice.

“I’d rather let it fall off,” Steve sighed at your clipped tone, he moves to reach to your arm to set it but you jerk away. Unable to hold in the grunt of pain. Steve frowns at your stubbornness

“I don’t want you touching me,” adamant to solidify your words you take a seat.

“Fine be in pain see if I care,” he stomps off not missing your muttering “You never did care.”

Steve could admit that gutted him. His steps faltered for a fraction. He cared for you more than his own life, more than stupid missions. Sometimes he was just a fucking idiot with women. He’d find a way to fix it though.

Squaring his shoulders he keeps walking to the pilot seat, sitting next to Bucky in the co-pilot seat who side-eyes him. “You gonna leave her like that?”

“She won’t let me touch her,” Buckling himself in he tries his best to keep the pain at bay. Was it really that bad that he couldn’t even set your shoulder back? You’d just sit there in pain than even have him touch you?

He knew you would be mad at him for a while but he figured after 3 months some of your ire would wane.

“Hm,” Bucky watches Steve start up the QuinJet controls, “well can you blame her?”

“Told you not to let her catch you,” he flicks Steve’s ear who tries to swat the hand away, “ever,” Bucky’s condescending tone the same he’d been hearing for months on end since the incident.

“Please don’t start too.” Bucky shrugs flipping switches in response to Steve’s prepping the Quinjet for take off.

Bucky turns his head back, catching your figure way in the back, head tilted down. Your slowed heart rate indicating you’d fallen asleep. He turns back to Steve.

“Now you’ve fucked it by letting her catch you with a side piece,” Steve can’t help but roll his eyes, if Bucky went on about this one more time he was liable to punch his best friend unconscious.

“I wouldn’t start if you’d not fucked this up,” Steve grunts wishing for this conversation to not start-up once more, “how long did I have to hear you going on and on about wanting her?”

“I offered my help,” Bucky bobbed his head back and forth in mock “But no the Great Steve Rogers had to woo her.” He scoffs, resituating himself in his seat.

“My side piece? The girl was yours after all.” Steve recalls for Bucky.

“Yeah well let’s be thankful she didn’t know that when she caught you balls deep in her.” there’s a soft snort from you and they both look back catching their breath. They were fairly certain you hadn’t heard anything, but still...

“All I’m saying is fix it,” Bucky grumbles in a whisper looking directly at his pal, “Cause if I have to hear you whine about not being with her one more time-”

“Yeah I get it, Buck,” Steve sighed looking back at you once more.

Once you’re all back at the compound Steve is hot on your tail following you toward medical. You wanted to scream at him but with your loss of blood, still not sure where from, and the pain in your shoulder you didn’t have any fight left in you.

Steve should have headed his buddy’s words of giving you more space but he was unwilling to be apart any longer. You just had to forgive him and let it go. Simple as that. He’d make sure you saw it that way too. It’s not like you knew about all the other times.

A nurse sees you before you can say anything and you’re ushered into a room the door shutting in Steve’s face. Your snide smile makes his hands ball up.

Pushing his thumb to the entry bad you stick your tongue out when it blares at him denied entry. Of course, you would have made sure FRIDAY knew to keep him away from you. He’d get in. He could see through the partially closed vertical blinds making out your figure removing your gear and uniform. Licking his lips at the outline of your breasts.

It had been too long since he’d had sex. None of the other girls did it for him anymore, knowing you weren’t at home waiting for him to go another round with. He had to get in.

Looking at the pad he types in the override code and smiles in triumph with the door slides open for him to come in, shutting after his entry.

Turning around after finally getting the gown on provided for you, you hiss at the sight of him “Why don’t you bother whatever whore’s bed you crawled out of today?”

“I am not sleeping-”

“I don’t really care Steven.” the resignation in your voice when you interrupt him leaves him speechless. You had been mad at him, that’s all he had seen since that night. Just your fire.

“I’m not the one who stepped out of our relationship,” You squeezed your eyes tight trying to will the overbearing oaf out of your life.

“That’s not fair, as far I knew you-” Eyes snapping open at his pathetic excuses you whipped around, finger-pointing. Steve couldn’t help but inhale the smell of your shampoo at the quick turn. God, he missed you.

“I what? Slept with some dude?” Your fingernail presses into his chest, not caring that he couldn’t feel it through his suit, “Well, I didn’t but you couldn’t listen to me so you went,” you jab your finger into his chest feeling the anger flash through you as if it was that night all over again “and got your dick wet with one of those SHIELD trainees.”

Saving you from this hell the nurse comes in with supplies to tend to your wound and reset your shoulder. You step away from Steve to fall onto the bed, the nurse starting on the gash across your abdomen.

”Go” The soft defeat in your voice, turning your to the side catching his gaze from the corner of your eyes.

“I want to be here,” he makes a step towards you, ignoring the way you hiss at the antiseptic being applied makes his stomach turn. He never did enjoy seeing you uncomfortable, it reminded him of his younger years feeling helpless.

“Please,” You whimper, “If you love or ever loved me you’ll leave me alone.” looking at the nurse you try to convey your apologies for the awkward situation you put her in

“I’ve always loved you,” you can barely find it in you to scoff in disbelief at his words, just so tired of this back and forth.

“Sure have a fucked up way of showing it.”

He knew he had to leave, the finality in your tone let him know there was no moving you. Just yet.

Four weeks, he didn’t see you for four weeks. It was making him irritable, he doesn’t have to talk to you but to at least see your face even with the surly look you give him now would be enough. But nothing for four weeks.

“If you sigh one more time I’m gonna blast a hole through your chest,” Tony declared pointing the blaster cannon he’s tinkering with at Steve.

“I mean you can find another girl right?” Bruce offers before Bucky can stop him, scrambling in his chair. The four of them sitting in Tony’s lab relaxing, having guy time. Well, now it’s just friends’ time. It used to be guy time when he had you.

“No, don’t-” Bucky buries his face in his hands resting elbows on his knees after seeing Steve’s face scrunch up. 

“Find another girl?” Steve lamented. Oh if it was so simple.

“Well fuck now you started it.” Bucky groans into his hands. He had just gotten him to agree to getting out of the apartments and spending time with some people.

“What?” Bruce looks around confused at his suggestion. It seemed reasonable, there is plenty of fish in the sea as they say.

“I can’t just find another girl like her, she’s one of a kind. Full of fire and passion but nurturing. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted. But she won’t talk to me,” Steve cards his fingers through his hair messing up the perfectly comb style. “I know if I could get her just have an honest conversation we could work past this.”

“Maybe if you had some HYDRA truths serum you could get her to talk,” Bucky sits up straight sure Steve is done for now.

“Why not give her the serum?” Bruce offers nonchalantly.

“The serum?” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Dude!” Tony reprimands Bruce who has the audacity to look confused by Tony’s displeasure

“It’s just this thing we made,” Tony opens his mouth before Bruce can start. “Nothing just gets someone to express their thoughts as they come to them and cannot stop.”

“A truth serum.” Bucky offered.

“Nooo,” Tony rolls his eyes, “it’s just a serum that makes them… talk.” Bruce looks at Tony in confusion.

“That’s not the one I meant,” Bruce looks at Tony not picking up on his eyes shifting and grimace to get Bruce to stop talking.

“The one you call ‘Sex Pollen’,” Bucky tried to hide his chuckle with a cough, but Tony catches it glaring at him.

Steve stands up and marches to stand in front of Bruce who looks up at him. “UUh,”

“Show me.” Bruce can only nod at the authority in Steve’s voice.

“What a pushover,” Tony mutters going back to tinkering with his hand blaster. Bruce scampers away to return quickly with a vial.

“It lowers the progesterone and raises estrogen, but the only caveat is the hormones don’t level out until, well,” Bruce stutters trying to explain.

“Until you cum in her, mouth, pussy, ass anywhere,” Tony supplies, Steve’s brow raise, and Bucky stands up in curiosity. They all surround Bruce’s hand holding out the vial.

“Just a little bit,” Tony instructs, “And she’ll be crying for your cock.” All four men stare at the vial with varied interests. More so pride on Tony’s part. “It also makes them fertile as fuck so if you don’t want a baby don’t finish where you can have one.”

Tony chuckled to himself recalling a memory he fails to share. “That’s kind of how we got Morgan.”

“If you don’t give her what she needs, though, her body temperature will climb and well,” Bruce flusters himself trying to explain without being so technical.

“Boiled brain,” Tony finishes watching Steve grab the vial.

“Only about 3 drops bud,” Tony calls out to Steve’s retreating figure.

Steve heard him but his mind was focused on a plan to get you back. Using this he’d easily seduce you, show you why the two of you were so good together and leave a little present in your body tying him to you forever.

Yeah, this would work just fine.

Steve couldn’t believe his luck, you had left your quarters and he was able to slip in, put three drops in a water bottle on the kitchen he knew you’d finish soon.

Then he waited. It wasn’t 20 minutes later that he was knocking on your door upon your return. You were already flushed when you answered. He knew you had drunk the water, if not all of it.

“St-Steve?” You questioned, you had been doing so well not seeing him or knowing he even existed. It had helped so much in cooling your temper. However, it wasn’t to say you did miss him. You missed him something fierce when you were alone in bed using your toys. Toys that never compared to what Steve could do for you.

Eyeing his physique in front of you now was temping enough. The tight shirt showing his pecks and muscles hidden underneath, your eyes trailed down to the sweat pants sitting low on his hips. You had no shame licking your lips at the sight. Maybe you should have rubbed one out this morning?

Gripping the door frame tight you felt shivers run up and down your spine, centering in your underwear where you could feel growing dampness.

Steve,” you repeated, not failing to notice the way his eyes trail up and down your body. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles, pushing his way in, you stumble back giving him full entry into your living space. One part of you says to push him out but the other says to feel his pecs. Shaking your head you repeat yourself. “What are you doing here?”

Steve says your name, it’s deep, masculine, and soaking in desire. You teetered on your feet.

“You feeling okay baby girl?” he catches you in his grasp, though you weren’t really running. His arm around your back, the other holding your hip.

You try to speak but your throat feels suddenly too dry. Eyeing the water bottle on the counter Steve grabs it, keeping one arm behind your back, and hands it to you.

“Go on,” His eyes trained on your lips as you take the bottle to your mouth. You drink and Steve watches the way your throat moves with each swallow. Just as you’re about to take the bottle from your lips Steve tips the bottom of the bottle up making you swallow the remaining contents.

You keep eye contact even as he sets the bottle back down, his thumb running over your bottom lip collecting missed water. Without thinking your mouth opens and you twirl your tongue around his thumb. Collecting the remains.

“Such a good baby girl,” He purrs, your hands on their own accord trail up his shirt, nails dragging along the defined muscles.

“Yeah, you missed me huh?” You begin to nod your head but something shakes you from your stupor. Your eyes widen, hands on his chest begin to push trying to get him away but that only makes him pull you in against his chest.

Your head tilted up, looking at him with growing fear. “What-” you try to think clearly. “What did you do?”

“I only did what I had to,” His eyes shift to the side for a brief moment and when you look over you see the water bottle.

“Did you drug me?” Your words slur, and your hands that were once pushing him away began kneading his muscles under them.

Steve slides his hand down your back to cup your ass. Two fingers dipping between your butt cheeks and pushing you to your toes. When your body rocks against him you can feel his erection pressing into you.

“Its gonna be okay,” He coos, you fight the sensations pushing through, Your desire to rub up against him, the way his fingers feel so good pushing against your ass. A soft mewl pulls at your lips, feeling his chest rub against yours, nipples pebbling with arousal.

He flips you around holding your back to his chest, hands sliding down your sides to pull your shorts and underwear down. One hand cupping your mound, he groans at the dampness against your mound, You certainly had made a mess.

Tony wasn’t lying about this ‘sex pollen’.

“What did you do?” your voice softer than you want it to be. You should be screaming but your body is responding completely contradictory to how you want it to. When he pushes on your back sending your chest forward he doesn’t relieve the pressure until you’re bending in half.

“I’m reminding you how much you need me,” He pushes his sweats down to under his balls. He didn’t wear any boxers for this, no he wanted to be ready to enter you as soon as he could.

He leans back to groan at the sight of your pussy dripping with arousal. Oh, he may have to start giving you a drop of this every day if you were ready so quickly every time.

You moan when he drags his knuckles up and down your slit, admiring the way you rock on your tiptoes and back down pushing his cock against your ass. You knew you were asking him something but for the life of you, you couldn’t recall. All on your mind is how you can feel the heat of his fat cock behind you, the tip rubbing against your ass cheeks.

“What..?” You speak out, your subconscious trying to push through.

“I’m making sure you won’t leave me again baby,”

“No,” you mewl, upset at the thought of leaving him. Not when he makes you feel so good.

“It’s okay though,” he comforts you, gently caresses your sides before lining his cock to your entrance.

He pushes in grunting at the way you grip him, it had been so long since he’d be in you, and from the feel of your tightness it had been just as long for you to take anything inside.

“I’m securing our future.”

[bobathots]

smokescreen

i wrote the first draft of this in a lust-fueled haze in less than 24 hours a few weeks ago and then i watched a movie where tem was just absolutely off the rails h word and my brain went “haha smoking kink go brrrrr again” so literally this is just an excuse for boba to smoke. @jon favreau give him a cigarette u coward mob boss! boba/female reader. smut 18+  ~10k tags: pwp, smoking, oral sex, shotgunning, at one point u give boba a blowjob while he smokes also on ao3

He wasn’t expecting anyone — or at least, he wasn’t expecting you , that much was clear from his body language. You weren’t even sure it was him until you got close enough to see the dim streetlamp cast a familiar shadow across his face, until you could make out his staple leather jacket wrapped around his form. The tip of his cigarette stood out cherry-red in the evening light, hanging loosely between his index and middle finger.  He tensed and turned his head as you approached.

“Boba!” You kept your voice light and even; you didn’t know how to talk to the man at work, much less in a situation like this. You hadn’t exactly expected to come across him in the middle of the night, in a dark alley situated neighborhoods away from where you both worked. But, then again, it wasn’t as if this was part of your normal schedule.

He dipped his head toward you in greeting, then brought his hand up to his face to take a drag from his cigarette. Your gaze remained transfixed on the motion, how he rested his index finger on his tip lip while his hand remained splayed, as if he was trying to hide the action. You spoke before you could think, the words tumbling out of your mouth, “I didn’t know you smoked.”

His inhale sounded like a sigh. Dropping his hand back to his side, he courteously turned his head away from you and exhaled billows of ash-grey smoke from his mouth. “Meant to keep it that way, too.” Oh. You winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

He shook his head as if to waive away your concerns. “Don’t. I’m the one smoking outside in public.”

“At midnight,” you added, knowing that he probably chose this time and place specifically for privacy. Privacy that you were now infringing upon.

“...At midnight,” he echoed, the beginnings of a wry smirk on his lips.

The conversation died out there, but you remained standing next to him, casting your gaze out onto the buildings. Distantly, you could make out drunken conversations from the surrounding busy streets so filled with nightlife, mixed with the occasional prickle of Boba puffing his cigarette. A cool breeze swept through the leaves and across your skin, causing goosebumps to pimple out in response. You hugged yourself tightly, palms wrapped around your bare arms, as if you could chase away the evening chill.

“Speaking of midnight —” You glanced back at Boba; he pinched the end of his cigarette between thumb and forefinger and dropped it to the ground, crushing it underfoot with his heel, “— you shouldn’t be out alone this late.”

“It’s not so bad in this part of town.” It felt weird having your boss express concern for you, as subtle as it was, even if it was in his nature to take care of his own , as he put it. You figured you were more like a blimp on his radar; it wasn’t like you were a crucial employee. You hardly ever needed to interact with him at work. “The streets are always lit,” you continued, “and always crowded.”

“Right. Which is why you decided to go down a dark alley in the middle of the night.”

Heat rose to your face. “Because I thought I saw you!”

He let out a sound which might have been a chuckle — god, it was so hard to tell with him — and he pushed off the building he had been leaning against. “Let me walk you home, then. An apology for causing you to make a stupid decision.”

You can’t tell if he’s being mean on purpose, but regardless, you didn’t want to impose on him. “Boba, it’s okay, there’s no —”

“Start walking,” he ordered. His voice was stern, commanding; the tone he took when giving instructions at work, and that meant there was no room for argument, no wiggle room to barter or bargain. The words yes, sir sat on your tongue, burgeoning with desire, but you swallowed them down back to the pit of your stomach where they belonged.

Another breeze blew in. You shivered, both from the temperature and from Boba’s intense presence, but finally nodded in acquiescence. “It’s not far,” you assured him, turning to walk back the way you came. “Maybe like five minutes or so.” Then, something heavy and warm draped itself over  your shoulders and you paused, turning back once more to look at Boba.

A now jacket-less Boba.

“I...oh. Um. Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.” He kept walking the direction you set out, leaving you to play catch-up. You took a moment to slide your arms through the sleeves, and it thrilled you to find out just how much extra fabric hung past your hands. Even bunching it up at the wrists caused it to slide down from how loose the jacket sat on your body, so you simply clutched the hems in your palms to keep the fabric from slipping over your fingertips. The rest of it draped over you, his frame much larger than yours, and you felt weirdly protected in his jacket. It smelled like leather and faintly of cigarette smoke, but most importantly it smelled like him, a scent you had no other words for. It was the same smell that lingered in his office long after he’d left, something masculine and oddly comforting. Wearing your boss’ jacket was like being wrapped in a second-hand hug, and you were ashamed to admit how much you liked the idea.

You had to do a little jog to catch up to Boba. Maybe it was the night air, or maybe it was the fact that you had genuine one-on-one time with the man you’d been admiring for so long, but you were suddenly emboldened to nose into his personal life. “So...am I allowed to ask why you don’t smoke with the others?” The “others” you referred to were a sizable group of Boba’s underlings that you often noticed smoking together by the backdoor. 

“Not a social smoker.”

You wouldn’t call Boba a social anything , to be honest. “Okay, so why not in your office? I mean, you spend a lot of time alone there anyway.” You would have remembered if he kept an ashtray or a pack of cigarettes anywhere visible, and his office never smelled like smoke.

Silence stretched out between you. You thought maybe he was done with your invasive line of questioning — after all, this was the first “real” conversation you had had with him that didn’t involve work-related topics — but he spoke up after an elongated pause.

“It’s a nasty habit I can’t kick. I try not to indulge if I can help it.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Boba almost sounded embarrassed at having a vice. “My turn to ask a question.”

“Hm?”

“There a reason you’re leading me through back alleys instead of taking the main streets?” He cast a sidelong glance at you, and even with the glint from the streetlamps you couldn’t place whatever subtle emotion danced in his gaze.

“Oh, uhm. It’s just a faster shortcut,” you said, hesitating despite your honesty. “I...normally don’t feel safe enough to do this at night, but…” The implied since you’re here hung heavy in the air between you. You drew his jacket tighter around your body, relishing in the shield it provided against the chilly evening air.

Seemingly satisfied with your explanation, Boba lapsed into silence beside you. You lead him around a corner and stopped at the base of a sloping hill, turning to face him. “Um, the house I’m renting is just up the road from here,” you started, nerves sitting at the base of your chest. The thought of Boba — your boss , who you were crushing on hard — knowing where you lived? It was almost too much to bear, because you were certain you’d do something stupid like invite him in for a drink, which would naturally lead to you into shamelessly begging him to do unspeakable things to you. You couldn’t. 

Instead, you shrugged off his jacket, internally mourning the loss of warmth and security it radiated. “Thanks again. And thanks for walking me home.”

Boba acknowledged you with a slight dip of his head as he pulled his jacket back around his own shoulders. You gave him what you hoped was a natural and normal smile that didn’t let your nervousness show, and turned to walk up the long sidewalk that led to your ramshackle house.

His gaze burned on your back the entire time, only letting up when you unlocked the door and stepped inside the safety of your home.

The second time had to have been a coincidence, an alignment of your schedules, because you found him at the exact same spot at the exact same time a week later. The only difference was that this time, he was grinding out a cigarette and raising a zippo to light another in the same moment.

You never took him for a chainsmoker.

“Boba —”

“What did I say about walking alone at night?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, necessarily, but neither was it condescending or patronizing. It was almost concerned, if you could call it that.

“I only have the same excuses as last time,” you admitted. He made that noise again, the little huff you’d taken to mean he’s amused, and your chest did a funny little skip in response.

“Means I’m responsible for walking you home again, then.”

“I - no! Not if it’s some sort of imposition. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“I’m sure of that, kid. But,” he paused to inhale, and deeply: his chest visibly expanded to fill out whatever room was left in his leather jacket, and he held it there for a beat, savoring the burn, before he breathed out in one fell swoop. “I’d like to see you safe with my own eyes.”

The white smoke obscured his gaze for just that moment, and all you could see was the bright burning end of his cigarette like a wine stain on a white tablecloth, like a gunshot wound through a white shirt.

You swallowed thickly. “Y-yeah, okay. Thanks, Boba.”

Something like gratitude settled over your shoulders, but there was also something else there, something you didn’t know how to describe. It meant enough to your lovesick heart to know that he cared , at least in some capacity, about your well-being. Enough to walk you home twice .

Even when Boba looked away, gaze on some distant point down the alley, you couldn’t keep your eyes from him. He looked so good , so imposing at all times, and the cigarette only helped add to his appeal. He was every bit like an intimidating mob boss, like he might decide to put his cigarette out on some thug’s eye for mouthing off — and you were only a little ashamed to say that the mental picture made you want to squirm.

At the same time, you could tell there was a different edge to him tonight. Something more coiled and tense, like he had a bundle of energy he needed to burn off and burning a cigarette was the closest he could come.

If he had been savoring it that first night, he was flat out devouring it now. It was aggressive, in a way; how he’d barely let his lungs take in a full breath of oxygen before he filled them with nicotine and tar again.

“You smoke?”

His voice startled you from your thoughts, bringing you clear back to the current moment. “N-no. Why?”

“You keep staring. Made me wonder if you wanted a puff.” He had caught you red-handed in your shameless oogling, and you supposed you should’ve felt embarrassed, but you were too enraptured with the way he spoke with his cigarette hanging from his lips, how the smoke leaked out in little wisps with every word. Deftly, he thumbed the filter to flick ash from the butt and immediately brought it back to his lips again. Your eyes followed every movement. “But it’s a good thing. Don’t start.”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” you said, which was the truth — the truth that existed before you knew Boba was a smoker, anyway. It wasn’t like you had a craving to smoke for smoking’s sake. Instead, you wanted to taste from the same filter that sat in Boba’s mouth, imagining it stained with the imprint of his lips; you wanted to inhale the same smoke that he exhaled and pretend that you were sharing breaths like lovers, or fuckbuddies; you wanted to kiss him and taste the nicotine on his tongue —

— but he was your boss, and a good deal older than you, and he’d never be interested in the first place. Instead, you had resigned yourself to watching him in the act with the hopes that you didn’t give off creepy vibes and that he’d fire you. It’d be best if you could turn your mind away from more unsavory thoughts, you decided. You would rather be a friend to him than someone he cast aside. You figured his stress came from the current negotiations between him and a potential business partner, but said partner was well-established in this area and, to the best of your knowledge, kept raising their “prices.” You didn’t know much about it because it simply wasn’t your job to know, but word did get around. “Are the talks not going well?”

He let out a derisive snort. “Hardly.” He exhaled and smoke escaped through his nostrils, giving him the momentary impression of a dragon. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“It’s just…” You paused to search for the right words. “You seem very stressed. I thought it might be because of that.”

Boba grunted in response. He held his little nub of a cigarette between forefinger and thumb as the smoldering end continued to eat away at the filter. For a moment, it seemed like he was honestly considering trying to finish it off, but then he breathed out a quiet sigh and tossed the butt to the ground. 

“....So it’s a stress thing, then, huh? The reason you smoke?”

Boba crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his full weight against the building behind him. “Supposed to be,” he answered. “But then I got addicted.”

“You picked up smoking to cope with stress?” You couldn’t keep the incredulity out of your voice if you tried. Your response to stress was just to cry, something arguably way healthier than what Boba was currently doing.

He breathed in deep, then out, and caught the tail-end of a worrisome cough as he exhaled. “Stress used to make me angry,” he explained, taking a moment to clear his throat. “When I was younger, I picked a lot of unnecessary fights, broke a lot of bones.”

“Yours?”

“And others’.” You didn’t miss the uneven slant of his mouth, the slight grin he wore at the admission, as if he was proud . “But it was a dangerous outlet, so I found something else.”

“Like smoking is any less dangerous,” you pointed out.

“A cigarette kills slower than a bullet, kid. And besides, you’re...what, half my age? Maybe more?” He lifted himself off the building and beckoned you to follow him with a jerk of his head. “I’ve been smoking longer than you’ve been alive. There weren’t many other options beside violence or drugs when I was younger.” “Oh. I’m...I’m sorry,” you said lamely, not really knowing how else to respond. “Don’t be.”

He was leading you home, you realized with a start, both amazed and terrified that he remembered the route you showed him exactly once. As you walked, you stayed close to his side; the evening was no less chilly, and even though you were wearing a thin windbreaker of your own, you were still cold. Boba radiated body heat, and you tried to soak up some of his without being in direct contact with him.

“You don’t look stressed,” you offered after a minute of companionable silence. 

He turned to look at you fully, an obvious cue to continue, but his unwavering attention made you nervous, and you started to blabber. “I-I mean, like… just in case you were worried that you were projecting the wrong image. Whenever I see you on base I just think you look so cool and intimidating, so even if these talks are stressing you out, it doesn’t show, and you still look as powerful and scary as ever, and so —”

“Thanks.” His voice made you shut up instantly , though there was no harshness or anger behind his tone. You were glad that he stopped your rambling; you were certain that if you had continued, you would’ve said something you couldn’t come back from.

You stopped at the same place last time, at the base of the hill, and turned to Boba with a slight smile. “Well, thanks again —”

“No, kid.” His hand fell to the small of your back, so big and solid and warm , and for a moment your brain short circuited as you tried to process the contact. “I said I wanted to see you safe with my own eyes. I’ll walk you to your door.”

“Uhh, y-yeah, okay. Yeah. Good. Sounds good to me.” To your surprise, as you started walking again, Boba’s hand remained a constant on your back. Were he any closer, you could pretend he had his arm slung around your waist as if he were a lover, or your boyfriend, your partner — but, desperately, you attempted to put a stop to those thoughts. They were all fantasies, anyway, unreachable things that you were never meant to hope for.

You stopped in front of your house steps. They were shoddy and showed more tear than wear, and the building clearly needed some love and care. It was, however, home , for the foreseeable future.

“Um, this is me,” you said awkwardly. Boba’s hand finally fell from your back, unfortunately not stopping anywhere on the way down, and he glanced up to take in the state of the building. You couldn’t tell if he was impressed or not — his expression was virtually unreadable — and you didn’t want to imagine what he was thinking, or what information he could extrapolate about you based on your residence. “I wanted to say thanks for walking me home. Again.”

“You shouldn’t be walking alone in the first place,” he said in lieu of acceptance, his brows furrowing ever-so-slightly.

“I know, I know, just —” You shuffled awkwardly, half-wanting him to leave, half-wanting to invite him to stay. “Thanks.” You hoped it was obvious that you weren’t just thanking him for seeing you home, but for sharing pieces of himself with you, for allowing you to see the bits of himself he never showed at work.

For a moment, his eyes seemed to look you over, top-to-bottom. He dipped his chin slightly in response. “Get some rest, kid.”

And then he was gone, the phantom touch of his hand hot and heavy on your back.

You formed a ritual together after that.

You’d meet him at the same place every week, always around midnight, and he’d smoke while you had an easy conversation. He smoked depending on his mood: sometimes, it was just one cigarette, enjoyed slowly, the stick held between his fingers more often than his mouth. Other times, he’d smoke multiple in quick succession, never more than three, but always with a sense of quiet urgency, like he wanted to finish them as fast as possible. He’d usually smoke them down to nothing, too, leaving barely anything left to count as litter.

Consequently, you grew closer to him than your schedule at work would ever have allowed. Some nights, the conversation would stick to work or work-adjacent topics. Other nights, you’d talk about more personal things, like when Boba revealed how his father died and you stepped in to overshare about your own sob-story childhood — but no matter the topic, there was a general acknowledgement that your relationship had Shifted, with a capital s . The dynamic between you two was no longer strictly boss and employee, but neither was it just a friendship. It was something precarious, dangling over the edge, desperate for something to disrupt it.

And you were desperate to keep it there. Sure, Boba had gotten a little more physical with you in the sense that he always had a hand or an arm touching you as he took you home, and maybe he gave you his jacket more often than not these chilly evenings, but otherwise he was still...Boba. Still kind of hard to read, still a little emotionally closed off, and most definitely not into you. It sucked, but you had learned to be content with the crumbs you got, and it came with the added bonus of having a secret together that no one else at work knew about. It wasn’t scandalous, or taboo, but it definitely felt a little gratifying knowing that you got to see a side of the boss that most everyone else wouldn’t know existed.

Your weekly meeting was a ritual. A sacred thing.

Until it wasn’t.

One night, Boba simply wasn’t there .

His silhouette was missing . There was no figure leaning against the building, there was no cherry-red glow of cigarette embers, there was no one.

You checked your phone: just a little past midnight. Was he sick? Or busy? He had your number for work-related reasons, so surely he would have texted you if —

But why would he? It wasn’t like this was anything serious , right? It wasn’t a meeting he needed to cancel, or a failed date you could excuse your way out of. This was just… a thing . A repeated thing with a date and a time and a place, sure, but…

Nonetheless, you found yourself drawn to your phone, the screen casting a soft blue glow across your face as you waited for a notification to pop up over your messaging app. You wouldn’t call yourself a romantic, but surely expecting a courtesy message wasn’t beyond whatever little ritual you had going on, right? At least, as your employer, he could treat it like —

A hand grabbed your shoulder. On reflex, you twisted around and flailed your arm wildly, hoping to hit whatever would-be assailant in a place that would hurt.

He caught the fist you carelessly slung in one broad hand, his fingers wrapped around your wrist tight to hold it in place.

“ Boba! ” you gasped, both relieved and irritated at the same time. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

  He let your hand slide from his grasp, and if you were in the right mind to pay attention, you would have noticed how he purposefully let his fingertips ghost longer on your skin, how they ran from your wrist to fingers instead of dropping away outright. “Don’t stand oblivious in an alley. At least keep moving if you’re alone.”

You slid your phone back into your front pocket. “I was waiting for you . I didn’t think you were coming.”

At that, he raised an eyebrow ever-so-slightly. “Wasn’t aware I could be late.”

And, well — he was right. This was his thing, after all, his late-night smoke break that he just happened to be so kind as to let you participate as a spectator. Of course he could change his mind, of course he wouldn’t think to let you know. It was your fault for getting attached and thinking it was something more —

“You should stop walking alone so late at night.” Boba was close , you realized. The brief panic earlier had drawn you two together and you hadn’t parted very far, your chests merely inches from each other. It was closer than you had ever been to him before, at least face-to-face, and as a consequence he spoke quieter, his voice coming out as more of a husky rumble than an actual vocalization.

“I’ll stop when you stop smoking,” you countered, your mind too focused on your proximity to Boba to filter your words properly. You were worried he might pick up the true meaning, that it was the act of Boba smoking that lured you to him each week, but instead he huffed out a chuckle.

“We’ll see about that, princess.”

Princess . That was... oh . It sounded like a proper pet name, and the realization made a rush of heat go to your face.

“P-princess?” you finally squeaked out. “Really?”

“You’re spoiled often enough,” Boba said plainly, though the hint of a grin pulling at his lips made you realize he was teasing you.

Something overwhelmingly warm and pleasant tugged at your heart, replacing practically every negative feeling you’d experienced in the past ten minutes. “I’m spoiled, huh? How am I spoiled?”

“You usually get what you want.”

You hummed at that, trying to think of something he might be referencing. He didn’t interact with you much at work, and typically it was usually the opposite in your experience. “I don’t think so,” you finally said, drawing up blanks.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Oh.

Oh.

You hadn’t considered that maybe he kept up with the ritual for your sake. Maybe he didn’t smoke at the same time and at the same place on a weekly basis, but instead decided to show up because you expected him there. Because that made sense.

Guilt ate at your heart, replaced quickly by a sense of affection.

It meant he enjoyed your talks, then, right? That he at least enjoyed your company? You couldn’t think of anyone he might just hang out with other than Fennec, and even then, you couldn’t picture him going through the trouble of all of this just to talk with her.

“Boba…” Tentatively, you reached out and placed your palms against his chest, looking up at him. He smelled like leather and smoke and himself , and you were so close that if you wanted, you could… you could….

Thunder crackled sharply overhead, and you jumped back in pure surprise. Boba’s hands came to settle around your elbows, keeping you from fully peeling away.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed. Ozone filled your nose — the threat of rain.

“Didn’t think it was supposed to storm tonight,” Boba admitted, and the change in weather made disappointment surge through your veins. You doubted he was the type to enjoy smoking while soaking wet, meaning you’d likely have to call it quits for tonight.

Unless…

“You could…” Oh, god. You already knew that the offer would be a mistake, but you swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat. “You could smoke. In my house. If you wanna.”

He regarded you quietly. “If I want, huh?”

“I-if you want,” you repeated. “But would a ‘please’ help influence your decision?”

“No.” And oh, that made your heart drop in your chest — but then he curled a finger under your chin and applied enough pressure to keep you gazing up at him. “But I want to hear one anyway.”

You couldn’t look away if you wanted to. There was something in his eyes that had you absolutely mesmerized , something burning like the smoldering end of a cigarette. God , you wanted to fucking kiss him. “Will you please come to my house?”

His lips curled into a small, self-satisfied smirk that bordered on a grin. The way he allowed you to see a flash of teeth seemed almost predatory , and it made you want to run away, or run toward him. “I’m not in the mood to get soaked,” he finally said. “Let’s go.”

You thought he would pull away from you entirely, leave you wanting and waiting,  but instead his arm curled itself around your waist to pull you against the warmth of his side. The gesture was so obviously possessive that it made your heart swoon . You tentatively leaned into him, a hand braced on his chest, but he took your weight easily, as if it were nothing.

The walk to your house was usually a quick affair, a five minute walk at most . Yet, now it felt like you were getting there at a snail’s pace, your body and brain hyperaware of your surroundings, dragging the walk out into one long punishment. Boba’s hand had slipped underneath the hem of your shirt to touch bare skin and it burned with promise. His body was so warm, and so solid, and he smelled so good that you just wanted to bury your face in his chest and just breathe. 

To anyone else, you would’ve looked like a typical drunk couple enjoying the evening together. You were invisible, and that knowledge made you almost giddy . He was no longer your boss and you weren’t his employee. The circumstances of your relationship didn’t matter, and for a moment you could pretend that you two were just —

Well, that you two were something together. Something with a future.

Too held up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the pebble in your path, and you caught your foot on it and stumbled. Boba’s arms wrapped around you before you could pitch forward and he dragged you up to hold you against his chest, one strong arm braced around your middle. “Easy.”

His lips were right by your ear, so close that his voice had come out as barely more than a low rumble. You instinctively tensed in his arms, one hand resting atop his own, and turned your head back to look at him.

Christ , you were impossibly close. The angle meant that there were scant few inches separating you from him, and that a small adjustment would be enough to allow your lips to brush his, to allow you to have a taste of him that you’ve craved these past few months —

Thunder boomed overhead and you startled in his arms, enough so that you jerked away from him. You gave a nervous laugh moreso to assure him that nothing was actually wrong than anything else. The first few fat drops of rain splattered your skin, shockingly cold, and you both looked up at the sky in unison.

“We’d better hurry,” you suggested, knowing how easily torrential rain began in storms like these.

You reached for his hand this time, settling your small hand in the palm of his own, but it was Boba that pulled you along to your house with a renewed sense of urgency as rain began to darken the concrete in small splotches. The clouds threatened to open up and drench you both, but there was something a little more primal in the way he handled you, like it wasn’t just the rain on his mind.

By the time you reached the steps leading up to your door, he was practically manhandling you up them, and instead of allowing you to stop and fish your keys from your pockets, he kept himself in your space, crowding into you, forcing you back against your door. He braced an arm over your head, the other settling on your hip, and when he pressed his knee between your thighs you parted your legs willingly for him.

Boba stared at you. Water droplets dusted the shoulders of his leather jacket, shining dimly in your porch light. The same light reflected warmly in his brown eyes, eyes normally so hard and closed off, but soft for you , like he was sharing a secret, like he was barring some hidden part of himself just for you. Only you.

His thumb skimmed your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up, drawing slow and smooth circles that didn’t match the intensity of his gaze or the way your heart pounded in your chest. When he swallowed, you watched how his adam’s apple bobbed and longed to put your mouth there, to feel the motion against your lips.

“You gonna invite me inside?”

You wanted to hit him. You wanted to give him a snarky reply for all but forcing you up your stairs, or call him something that involved the words cheeky and asshole — but his breath kept ghosting tantalizingly across your lips and his damned smirk was so attractive and you felt like you had been waiting for this for literal years, desire and want and longing all bound up fit to bursting in your chest. “Only if you kiss me,” you challenged breathlessly.

Boba surged forward, hands sliding to cup your face between his broad and calloused palms, and he kissed you with more teeth than lips, something ferocious and desperate . His knee slotted itself higher between your thighs, purposefully rubbing against your center, and you moaned into his mouth, clutching desperately at his wrists. Against the awning, the spattering of rain turned quickly into a flood and for a moment you couldn’t differentiate between it and the blood rushing in your ears.

You never thought you’d find the taste of cigarettes appealing, but you did — at least, you liked them combined with whatever it was Boba tasted like. Maybe it was your attraction to him warping your senses but you couldn’t get enough. You licked into his mouth, sucked lightly on his tongue, teased his lip with your teeth — literally anything  to keep him pressed against you.

His hands left your face which made the chilly air feel all the more cold against your cheeks. Instead, they ran down the length of your torso, mapping out the curves and planes of your body. You arched willingly into his hands as they reached around to your backside, sliding into the pockets of your jeans —

— only to be met with disappointment when you heard the jangle of your keys as he pulled them from your pocket. “Could’ve —  asked ,” you managed between breathless kisses. Boba hummed into your mouth as he reached for the doorknob to your side. Reluctantly, he pulled away just long enough to slot the key correctly into the lock, and you busied yourself with tasting the expanse of skin on his throat that the new angle provided.

One hand still remained cupping your ass, and you squeaked when he suddenly grabbed a handful and squeezed. As he turned the doorhandle, he used his hand to pull your weight forward against him so that you wouldn’t fall backward into your house, which had the added advantage of pressing your chest to his.

“C’mon,” he murmured lowly, playfully swatting your ass. “Inside.”

You barely registered the sound of your keys hitting your tiled floor as he ushered you indoors, because the moment you both were safely inside you fell on him again, lip-to-lip, hands trying to work off his leather jacket. He took the hint and shed it quickly, letting it fall to the floor, and immediately he urged off your own shirt, breaking away from you long enough to pull the fabric up over your head.

His hands felt so big against your body like they were everywhere, his rough palms a stark contrast against your smooth skin. He thumbed just under your breastband, one hand settled on your back to keep your pelvis pressed to him as his other hand groped your chest over your bra, rough and demanding, and you whined into his mouth. The pleasure threatened to sweep your thoughts away, to turn you mindless and dumb and completely receptive to his whims. You turned your head away from his lips, trying to find the words to speak as he continued to grab handfuls of your flesh. “Boba —” you started, cutting off abruptly with a whine as he teethed at the delicate skin of your neck, each nibble a promise of a later bruise. “W-wait, Boba, I thought you came here to smoke?”

In an instant, his hands fell to his sides, leaving you completely untouched. If you weren’t keyed up and desperate, you might’ve appreciated the gesture, but now it just left you feeling frustrated and unfulfilled. He looked down at you in concern, brows slightly furrowed, but all you could focus on were his lips . They were slick with saliva, kiss-swollen, and you felt a twinge of regret that you had pulled away at all.

“....Do you not want —”

“No! No, I do, I just thought that maybe, y’know…” You gave him a sheepish grin, aware of how hot your face felt.  “I thought that maybe you could...do both?”

Concern gave way to slight confusion, then he chuckled in amusement. “I should have guessed.” Boba reached back into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out his lighter and a carton of cigarettes and carefully shook one free. “You have a thing for smoking, huh?”

“No!” It was a gut-response to deny; smoking was gross . It was yucky . It did awful things to people’s bodies and it stained clothes and fingers and yet — “Or at least, I didn’t,” you amended, voice softening. “Not until I saw you that night.”

He paused, lighter halfway to his mouth. The cigarette dangled attractively from his lips. “You should have better taste.”

You choked on nothing. “Wh — you should have better stress relievers!” “Are you offering?”

That made you stop, heat rising to your face at the implication. Sure, you wanted him — but the thought of being his little toy , someone he came to when he needed a quick fuck to ease his frustrations — you liked the thought of it a little too much. Boba was smirking at you, but he seemed to understand to leave well enough alone, at least for now.

There was a flash of light, steel hitting flint, and then the familiar smell of smoke filled the air, more potent in your tiny house. He motioned his head toward your couch as he breathed out a mouthful of smoke. “Go sit.”

The command was almost unneeded; Boba practically steered you there himself, hot on your heels, his hand right back on your lower back like it belonged there. You settled yourself on the cushions, half expecting him to sit beside you, or maybe cover your body with his own — but when he sunk to his knees in front of you, nerves bubbled up in your stomach.

“Oh, Boba, I’ve never...No one has...gone down on me before.”

He grunted, deft fingertips already at the button of your jeans. “Don’t see how that impacts me.” You raised your hips to help as he tugged at the hem of one pantleg, and he slid your jeans off in one smooth movement. He placed your legs over his shoulders and jerked you forward so your ass was off the couch, hips suspended in midair by his arms hooked underneath your thighs. It left you trapped and pinned in place, your back slouched awkwardly against the back of the couch. He puffed on his cigarette before transferring it between his first two fingers, the burning tip pointed away from you as he gripped your thigh. Smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke, “Unless you want me to stop?”

You shook your head, and whatever nervous thoughts you had about tasting or smelling weird, or not looking the way he expected, or not being groomed the way he liked instantly left as Boba ran the flat of his tongue against your clothed cunt, so hot even through the fabric of your panties, and you jerked your hips both in surprise and want .

“Be still ,” he growled, so close that you felt his breath against your center. “I don’t want to burn you.”

“You won’t,” you breathed. You trusted him not to even accidentally harm you, like accident wasn’t a word in his vocabulary. Instead, you felt his arms clamp down on you harder, giving you even less potential wiggle room than before.

A moment later, his mouth was on you, his tongue licking broad stripes against your panties. It felt good even without direct contact; you had never had someone’s mouth on you before, and it had been a long time since you had anything but your hand to pleasure yourself with. 

“You’re already so wet.” He turned his attention to your inner thighs, and pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to your heated skin. His free hand rubbed you through your panties, spreading your slick into the fabric, and you moaned . “Is it because of me, or are you just excited?”

“You. It’s you.” He hooked his thumb under the edges of your panties and pulled the fabric away from your crotch, exposing your heated core. Your breath came in short puffs as he finally touched you, skin against skin, his thumb dipping into your folds to collect your slick on his fingertip. “I’ve — thought about this for so long.” “About me eating you out?” You were so wet; you could see how your juices glistened on his thumb as he brought it to his mouth, letting his tongue loll out lewdly as he licked your taste clean from his finger. You whined at that sight alone and imagined his tongue tasting you for real, imagined how wet and hot it would feel against your bare cunt. He brought that same hand down onto the meat of your thigh, slapping you light enough to get your attention but not enough to leave a lasting sting. “I asked you a question, princess.”

“About this,” you repeated, as if it clarified anything. “About you.  About — Boba, please —” You tried arching your hips off the couch to tempt him, tried to explain without words what you wanted as your voice died off into a needy whine.

His hand returned to your cunt, fingertips grazing over your clit through your panties. They were so soaked with his spit and your slick that it was barely a barrier at all, made translucent by all the fluids. “Don’t make me guess what you want,” he said. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

Frustrated, you groaned and covered your face with your hands. “It’s embarrassing to say it.”

“It’s embarrassing, huh?” Boba teased the edge of your underwear, flicking it against your skin as a reminder that his fingers were right there , that you could have what you were desperate for if you only asked. “Is it embarrassing if I say that I love how you taste?” 

“Boba….” you whined weakly.

“I want to taste more of you,” he murmured, voice growing husky. He nosed against your clothed mound, breath fanning hotly against your core. “I want to bury my tongue in your little cunt and take everything from you. I want you to come undone on my mouth, princess.” He pressed an oddly-sweet kiss to your thigh, his lips lingering on your skin. “But I can’t unless you tell me what you want.”

You felt hot and extremely bothered by the casual way he said those things, how he just uttered his desires as if they were nothing. It wasn’t embarrassing to ask him to eat you out, but you found it embarrassing that you wanted it. You swallowed thickly, and when you finally looked out from under your hands you found Boba looking up at you through hooded eyes, just waiting. Watching.

“Please,” you whispered. “Please eat me out.”

“ That ’s it." In a blatant show of strength he ripped your panties right from your hips, tearing the cloth with one strong pull. You didn’t even have time to articulate a response, because a second later his mouth was on your bare pussy, his tongue eagerly lapping up the liquid that glistened on your folds. 

“ Boba! ” You jerked hard in his grasp but he pinned you down with his hands alone, his grip on your thighs so tight you knew that there would be ten marks in the shape of his fingers the next morning. He was relentless, lapping and slurping at your cunt like a man starved, and the sounds were so lewd and so pornographic that you’d have found them gross were you not so aroused. 

You wanted to snap your thighs closed and rut against his mouth so bad , but his hold on you was unforgiving. He kept you spread and held in place, completely at his mercy as he licked and sucked and devoured you. Little gasps and moans kept escaping your lips, mixed in with mindless repetitions of Boba and please and yes, yes, like that.  This was the loudest you had ever been; months of pent-up desire and sexual frustration had you quickly approaching an orgasm, vastly helped by Boba’s skillful tongue. The urge sat heavy in your gut and only grew with each passing second until you were frantically trying to grind into him, hips moving minutely in his iron grip.

And then he began to pull away. Your hand shot out to grab the back of his head to hold him in place, a desperate whine leaving your throat. “No! No, Boba, please, I’m so close, please —”

“Shhh.” He turned his head to place a soft kiss to your inner thigh. “Relax, princess. I’m not going anywhere.” His assurances were enough to cause you to let go, and he rewarded you by peppering more gentle kisses to your slicked skin.  “You got an ashtray?”

You had to think through the haze of want that clouded your thoughts. “A... huh? Why?”

“Don’t want to burn you.” He motioned toward the cone of ash on his cigarette, which had been steadily burning the whole time his mouth was on you. Carefully, he unwound his arms from around you and you slumped, boneless, back into the couch. “Unless you want me to use the carpet?”

“N-no, god, my landlord would kill me.” You spotted an old mug sitting on the endtable right next to the couch and reached for it, almost spilling the scant liquid left inside as you haphazardly handed it to Boba. “Use this.”

Sitting back on his haunches, he flicked the excess into the mug and then brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. You watched the fabric of his shirt stretch across his chest as he breathed in, how his shoulders seemed to broaden with the action. When he exhaled, he blew from the side of his mouth, keeping the smoke from reaching your face.

Which was considerate and all, but… “ Boba .” You stretched your lower half toward him in need, letting your thighs fall open. “Please?”

“You invited me here to smoke,” he reminded, even as his free hand slid up to brush tantalizingly close to your slit. “You gonna make me waste a cigarette?”

“N-no, but…” Tears pricked the back of your eyes; you had been so close , and the longer you went without his mouth on you the more you worried you wouldn’t get to come at all. “ Please .”

Boba flicked ash into the mug again and set it aside on the floor, out of reach of flailing arms and legs. “Spoiled little thing,” he said, so affectionate, and then he was upon you, his head back between your thighs. And, fuck, maybe you were spoiled, but it was his fault for indulging you and giving you an inch so you could take a mile. His tongue just felt so good, and without his arms pinning your legs open you rutted freely into his mouth, moans and pleas rolling off your lips anew.

Boba turned his head to the side as he took another drag from his cigarette, holding the little nub a safe ways away from your skin. He exhaled before he wrapped his mouth around you again, hotter than before, and his lips latched around your clit.

“Fuck!” Pleasure shot up through your spine and you moaned shamelessly, your eyes shutting tightly against the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you. “Fuck, fuck , Boba, please, oh my god —”

“Gonna come from my mouth alone?” His lips barely left your cunt as he spoke, his hot breath only serving to further tease you. “Wanna come for me, sweet thing?”

“ Yes ,” you hissed. “Yes, Boba, please , wanna come on your tongue —” You weren’t even wholly aware of what you were saying, just babbling mindlessly as he kept torturing your clit with attention. The urge you were chasing earlier came back full-force, leaving you teetering on the edge. “Please, please , Boba, Boba —”

“Then come,” he ordered. “Come for me.”

It might have been his voice, it might have been because his teeth skimmed your clit, but you came and you came hard . You think  you screamed, or blacked out, or screamed and then blacked out — and when you finally relaxed, body no long tight and taut, you opened bleary eyes to find Boba’s face still buried between your legs, his tongue lapping at your sensitive pussy in slow, languid movements.

“Boba,” you whimpered, pushing at him weakly. “‘S’too much, please …”

He peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses on the heated skin of your inner thighs as he pulled away, settling back on his knees. To your embarrassment, his mouth and chin shined with your juices; he turned his head to wipe himself clean on the sleeve of his shoulder and replaced his cigarette back between his lips. It was evident he’d enjoyed himself, too, because there was a sizable bulge tenting the fabric of his jeans.

“Hey.” You stretched a leg out, brushing a toe across the top of a clothed thigh. “It’s not fair you’re still dressed. Take off your shirt.”

He exhaled slowly, smoke drifting lazily upward from his mouth. “Take off your bra if you want it to be fair.”

You had completely forgotten that you were still wearing it, and you realized how ridiculous you must look: stripped nude with your bare pussy on display, but still wearing your fucking bra. It wasn’t even cute .

Sitting up, you hesitantly reached behind yourself and unclipped your bra. You let the straps slide down your shoulders but left the cups covering your chest, suddenly very acutely aware of everything: the couch beneath your bare thighs, the drying slick on your skin, Boba’s warm eyes focused intensely on you .

“Don’t get shy on me, now.” Gentle and slow, he reached a hand up and helped ease your bra the rest of the way off your chest. He palmed your bare breast, pebbling your nipple underneath his thumb. “Beautiful.”

You flushed at the compliment but gently pushed his hand away. “Your turn. Fair’s fair.”

He extended his cigarette out to you as he stood up from his knees, and you didn’t miss the quiet noise of exertion he made at the effort. “Hold this.” It was burned down to almost nothing, wasted, but as you took it from his fingers you remembered how often you’d imagined holding the filter between your lips, how often you dreamed of tasting him second-hand.

“Want to try?” He must’ve caught you staring; when you glanced back at him, he was bare-chested, and you marveled at the power that flexed underneath his skin, at the tattoos that spanned his chest and upper arms. You’d have to ask about them later.

“I thought you didn’t want me to start?”

“You’re an adult. I’m saying the offer’s there, if you want.”

You considered it — you really did — but then you thought about how sweeter it would taste coming from his mouth, and you passed it back to him.

“I...can we try something?

The end of it burned red-hot as he inhaled. “What?”

Your earlier shyness came back, your nerves sitting heavy in your chest. “What if...you kissed me, right? But with your mouth full of smoke? And then...y’know….” You wrung your hands in your lap as your confidence died out.

But Boba merely chuckled and took a seat on the couch next to you, the cushions dipping under his weight. “You won’t like it,” he warned.

“I don’t care.” Half-surprised he agreed, and half-giddy with desire, you crawled loose-limbed into his space, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth as you settled into him. “If it’s from you, I don’t care.”

You had tucked yourself into his side, but Boba hauled you into his lap instead, swinging your legs across his own. His clothed erection pressed into your hip and you had half a mind to ask if he wanted his pants off, too — but then he grabbed your chin between one large hand and held you in place as he puffed from his cigarette. His lips ghosted across your own, soft and tentative, and then he kissed you for real.

Unlike before, this was gentle and sweet, the slow molding of his mouth to yours, until he urged your lips to part. On instinct, you inhaled, and the smoke that entered your lungs was hot and spicy . You coughed once against his mouth before you had the chance to turn away. Your lungs and throat burned and tears quickly filled your eyes as you coughed away the sensation.

“I told you,” came Boba’s smug reply, and you narrowed your leaking eyes in a glare even as small coughs wracked your body. Gently, he smoothed his hand up and down your spine. “Wanna try again?”

“So you can —” you stopped, coughing, “— laugh at me?”

“Not laughing.” He wiped away some spittle on the side of your mouth. “It’ll be easier if you just hold it in your mouth. Don’t breathe it in.”

You nodded. After he took another drag from his cigarette, well and truly burning it to the filter, he kissed you again. This time, when you felt smoke fill your mouth, you fought off the urge to inhale. It almost tasted sweet beneath the bitter burn. You forced yourself to breathe out, the smoke pouring from between your connected mouths, but despite your best efforts you ended up inhaling a little anyway. You pulled away and coughed to clear your throat.

“Better?

You shook your head. “Not really,” you said sheepishly. “At least I know there’s one fantasy I don’t want to try again.

Boba extinguished the nub of his cigarette between forefinger and thumb and tossed it to the mug he left on the floor. “You fantasized about this?”

“Well, duh.” You sunk down against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder as he drew you close. “What else am I supposed to think about at work?”

It was a tease, mostly, but Boba pinched the soft skin of your thigh. “Naughty thing,” he admonished. “I pay you to fantasize, huh?”

“You occupy my thoughts even when I’m off the clock,” you admitted. As you shifted a bit in his lap, his erection pressed into your side, and you remembered another worktime fantasy and spoke before Boba had a chance to reply to your honesty. “Hey, you brought a whole pack with you, right?”

He huffed out a chuckle. “You trying to give me lung cancer?”

“No! No, no, just —” You squirmed. “Do you maybe want a blowjob? While you smoke?”

He answered you by reaching into his back pocket to pull out his lighter and cigarette carton. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“W-well, I mean, I thought you might like it. It’s supposed to be every man’s fantasy, right? A good blowjob and a smoke?” You eased yourself onto your knees before him as he lit up another cigarette, smoothing your hand over his broad thighs.

“Never considered it before,” he said as he began to undo his belt, “but I won’t say no.”

Your deft fingers helped undo the button on his jeans, and you pulled the waistband down just far enough to free his aching cock. “Oh, fuck ,” you breathed. He was big . Bigger than anyone else you’d taken, and you felt a phantom twinge of pain in your jaw just imagining him in your mouth. 

“Like what you see?” Boba grinned down at you, his freshly-lit cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth. Oh, he knew he was big. He knew it, and he knew you liked it.

You wrapped your hand around him and almost moaned when you realized you were barely able to touch your thumb to your middle finger around his girth. “Holy fuck , Boba.” You had never wanted to suck a dick as badly as you did now, even if you were questioning how any of it would fit in your mouth. Would he even fit in your cunt? If things escalated to that point, would you be able to take him, or would he just split you in half?

You subconsciously squeezed your thighs together and leaned in, pressing kisses up along his shaft. He smelled good , like musk, like Boba , the scent that you could never name. You parted your lips and dragged the tip of your tongue along his shaft, feather-light, stopping to take his leaking head into your mouth. He tasted salty on your tongue and you braced your hands on his thighs as you leaned in farther, relaxing your throat as his girth stretched you mouth impossibly wide. Already, it was almost too much, your jaw threatening to ache, and you worried you’d have to give him a handjob instead.

“‘Atta girl,” Boba praised, and oh if that didn’t make you feel like you could do anything . He ran a hand through your hair and settled a palm on the top of your head — not pulling, not pushing, but a comforting weight that held promise. Potential.

You pulled off his cock, tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes. “You can be mean,” you breathed, cognizant of how his hand tightened in your hair. “It’s okay.”

Boba hummed low in his throat, as if he were considering it. “Some other time,” he promised. “You have to learn to take me. I can’t break you on the first day.”

His words made you whimper automatically with want as your brain immediately filled in the gaps. Boba exhaled a mouthful of smoke around his cigarette and applied a little pressure to the top of your head, encouraging you to bend down again. “C’mon, princess. Take me into your mouth.”

You held his gaze for as long as you could manage as you wrapped your lips around his cock again, sinking down on his length. Despite his size, you wanted to take him deep in your throat and feel his jeans rub against your chin. You tried to relax as much as possible as you sunk lower but he was just too much , and you ended up gagging audibly.

He gave a sharp tug on your hair, pulling you off his cock. “Go easy ,” he stressed. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Spit dribbled down your chin. “I want to take all of you,” you whined.

Boba’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb smearing your saliva across your lips. “Be patient. I’m not a small man.”

“You make it sound like I’ll get another chance to do this.”

“You will. If you want.” Ash fell from the end of his cigarette and onto the cushion below, but in that moment you couldn’t care less about your stupid couch. “I’d like to have fun with you again.”

You hid your grin behind kisses as you peppered them along his shaft. “Okay,” you finally said. “Okay, I’ll go easy.” Boba made it sound like you’d have all the time in the world later to train your throat to take his cock — and hopefully there’d be time to train other things, as well.

No longer focused on deepthroating his entire cock, you worked on fitting as much as you could comfortably handle into his mouth and settled into a rhythm as you sucked and licked. You stroked the rest of his shaft with your hand, aided smoothly by your excessive saliva that drooled down his length.

You took a chance to look up at Boba, and found him with his eyes closed, an arm thrown over the back of your couch. The cigarette bobbled in his mouth as he inhaled around it. “ There you go,” he murmured, smoke trailing from his lips. “Just like that. Easy.”

You swallowed around him and his hand tightened in your hair. The taste in your mouth grew saltier with each passing second as his precum leaked from the tip of his cock and mingled with your spit. Boba groaned above you, something guttural and almost primal , and you felt the ache between your own legs grow in response.

“Want my cum, princess?” 

Grateful for the chance to give your aching jaw a break, you lifted from his cock and licked a broad stripe up from where your hand had been. “ Yes ,” you plead. “Yes, please, will you come in my mouth?”

“Gonna swallow me, huh?” At your enthusiastic nod, he grinned. “Good girl. My good girl. Scoot back.”

He moved to stand up from the couch and you realized at once what he intended to do as you shifted backwards, sitting pretty on your knees. He towered over you in this position and you couldn’t take your gaze away from him; at this angle, he seemed larger than life, intimidating and scary and huge , and the cherry-red of his cigarette burned brighter than ever. 

Boba cupped your jaw in his hand, tugging at your bottom lip. “Open your mouth.” You whined and clutched at the fabric of his pants as you obediently parted your lips, moving your head so that the tip of his cock was pointed at your mouth.

He fisted his cock in one hand, jerking himself hard and fast, and with the other he gripped the back of your hair and held you in place. “Gonna come, princess. Stick your tongue out for me.” 

You stretched your tongue out of your mouth as far as it would go, lips parted wide, and stared longingly up at him. Each of his exhales contained a mouthful of smoke, and it gave him the impression of standing in a translucent cloud, the tip of his cigarette standing out amongst the white.

He grunted something unintelligible and you felt something warm and thick land on your cheek. The next one hit your upper lip, and Boba drew you forward so that the head of his cock sat on the tip of your tongue. The rest of his cum landed hot and salty on your tastebuds.

Boba jerked himself from base to tip, coaxing out whatever droplets he could give you. “You look so good,” he murmured, voice husky. “Good girl. Swallow.”

You obeyed, opening your mouth wide after to show him. His thumb came up and helped guide the mess he left on your face into your waiting mouth, where you sucked his tongue clean each time.

“You did so well,” he praised, and even though your jaw ached and there was a dull throb between your legs, you beamed . You pressed your face into his clothed thigh and sighed happily as he rested a hand in your hair, stroking down the strands he’d mussed earlier. He took his cigarette from his mouth and tapped the ashes off into what you hoped was the mug.

A sort of quiet peace settled over you, and even though you were completely nude and it was late and you kind of wanted to invite Boba to stay the night (or forever), you were content to just sit there on your knees as he ran his fingers through your hair.

Besides. He told you there would be a next time — there was no reason to rush.

[tooweirdforyou]

Maybe how mihawk and ace and zorro would handle a fem! s/o's crazy and mean ex. Like I am feeling down about mine. Anytime hes sees with someone new, instant asshole, screaming at me in of the person I'm with. I feel with him around no will want to stick around. I just need heavy fluff

Mihawk, Ace + Zoro And A Fem! S/O With A Mean Ex

A/N : absolutely hope that this makes you feel better. I’ve never dated but I can’t imagine what that feels like ;-; I hope everything gets better and I’m so sorry this took so long to get out for you :(

Summary : these three boys and their reactions to your mean and crazy ex bothering you.

note : this seems like one of those emergency requests I’ve seen, so I wanted this out quickly but never got around to it :(

Warning : triggering scenes, harmful / harsh wording, etc.

Law, Shanks + Crocodile » Here!

-

Ace

Raging flames.

That is all that can be seen when a bystander passes the three of you in the streets on an island.

Ace is standing in front of you, keeping you behind him in a protective stance as his jaw and fists are clenched tightly, flames erupting from his body.

And the unconscious body of your ex lying down on the floor.

-

You and Ace were just exploring a new island the Whitebeard Pirates docked at, Marco picking up some medical supplies and a few others just seeing what they could find.

The two of you strayed off and stuck with each other to go sight-seeing, and unfortunately..

This happened to be the same island your ex lives.

And so when you two are walking and you hear an all too familiar voice, your blood runs cold.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t little [Name]. Come back for more?”

Ace would be so confused and just glances back at the male who walks up behind you. “Do you know this guy, [Name]?”

“Who’s this? Your new boyfriend? Doesn’t look all that great to me.”

You bite down on your tongue to prevent yourself from saying anything but Ace can immediately sense something is wrong when he feels your grip on his hand tightening.

“Cat got your tongue? I bet you are speechless. You must be thinking to yourself, how you could go after some worthless guy like him and perhaps come back to me, begging me to take you back.” The condescending laugh is heard as he smirks at you.

Ace’s sharp glare is immediately sent to your ex and flames are slowly building with each passing second.

“If you do beg me, I may or may not consider it. It depends on how low you go down on your knees for me. But then again, I might have to reject you just so I can admire your horrendous face full of fear and sadness as you wallow in regret for—“

You were too busy looking down and feeling yourself shrink at his words to even notice Ace had pulled away from you.

And at a distance he stood, towering over your ex with pure hatred and anger burning in his eyes, with his fist in flames.

“Shut up. If you ever even look in [Name]’s direction again, I won’t hesitate to burn you to hell.”

Anger quickly subsided as Ace turns from the unconscious male and faces you with pure worry and concern.

“Hey, are you okay?”

All you could do was stare in shock, unable to process anything that happened as Ace takes your hands in his and brings it to his face.

“Don’t listen to a word he said, okay? Come on. Let’s go get some ice cream before heading back to the ship.”

-

Mihawk

“[Name]? What the hell are you doing here?”

The all too familiar voice makes your eyes widen out of its sockets, stopping you in your tracks from wandering the halls of Mariejois.

Turning back to face the one you least expected and absolutely dreaded most, color drained from your face when you finally came face to face to your ex.

“[Ex Name].. I didn’t realize you’re stationed here.. how are the other marines?” You try to make some light conversation but just wanted to eagerly run away.

The male only scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Better now that you’re gone, I’ll admit. Now why the hell are you here?”

“Actually..-“

“And why is that any of your business?”

Hearing the new voice cut in, your ex scoffs and turns to face the owner before his eyes widens.

“A warlord?! What are you doing out here? Whatever! Just get out of here, you pirate! This doesn’t concern you!”

Mihawk exhales quietly in disappointment, clearly becoming annoyed at the male’s loud and head-aching yells.

Making his way over to you, Mihawk gently grabs your hands in his. “Is this man bothering you, mi amor?”

Glancing to the shocked expression of your ex, you have a shy nod. “H-He’s my ex..” you mumble out, rubbing the back of your head as you grasp his hand tightly.

“I see.” Mihawk nods in understanding before closing his eyes and turned to face the marine, who was recovering from shock.

“Y-You?! Dating her?” He let out a dramatic scoff. “Of course you’d go after a pirate. It’s such a disappointment to see you stray from the Navy, [Name]. But whatever, you’re just— AGH!”

“That’s enough out of you now.”

Wielding his smallest sword, the mini cross that hung around his neck in a necklace, Mihawk gave one slice into the air before the loud cry of pain was heard.

Staring down at the fallen marine, he looks unimpressed at the lack of strength shown and how easily the marine fell from just a measly swing of his arm.

“Don’t you ever dare to utter a word or mind a thought about my [Name]. Otherwise I’ll have you buried six feet underground. Is that understood?”

Slipping his cross back together into his necklace, he turns over to your with his lips in a firm line but his expression softened in the slightest.

“Let’s go, my dear. We’re done here.”

Bringing his hand to the dip of your back, he began to guide you out of the large palace to head back to his castle and perhaps enjoy a nice evening together with some wine.

-

Zoro

Zoro may not be the smartest, but he certainly picks up on certain behavioral cues, especially yours after having been together for so long.

So when the Sunny is sailing the seas and come across another pirate ship, which causes Luffy to seek after them to converse and greet them.

At first, everything’s alright, the Pirates were somewhat friendly like the Straw Hats, until the Captain goes to board the Straw Hat ship, to personally greet each member.

But when the captain goes by you, his kind smile is immediately dropped to one of a frown of distaste. “[Name].”

You couldn’t even express how you felt. Shock? Misery? Pain? Disbelief? Were you usually this unlucky to have to come across your ex like this? How could you not recognize the Jolly Roger of the ship?

His next words seem to snap you back from your thoughts. “Blanking and zoning out once again. I see you haven’t changed much, [Name].” He tuts, shaking his head and turns away dramatically.

“It’s a shame you can never grow. Still the same old, same old. It’s truly a shame.”

Biting your lip, you look away and took a step back, ignoring him as the others watch with confusion.

“Eh? How do you know this guy, [Name]?” Nami asks, tilting her head.

Zoro, who was resting against the mast and listening to everything, opens his eye to glance at you. He clearly noticed your discomfort and pained expression, but withheld from doing anything.

His eyes only drifted to the cause of your discomfort.

The others weren’t too sure how to react, only sensing that something happened between the two of you. With the tension in the air, even Luffy could tell.

It wasn’t until his next words that something in them all snapped.

“Honestly, you’re better off having just stayed in your pathetic lonely life at your small island. This pirate life is not meant for you. After all,”

Eyes boring right into your soul, his stare pierced your body and his words pierced your heart.

“No one wants a pathetic and useless weakling around, right?”

Mere seconds later, the Captain, your ex, was knocked right into the railing of the ship, successfully denting the wood and breaking the pieces off with the amount of force brought into the impact.

Your ex was laying there, shifting in and out of consciousness and blood dripped from cuts over his body.

Zoro, with a hand gripping Shusui, was standing in front of the crew, no one even flinched at the movement but you. Your eyes were widened in shock, unable to say a word.

“I’ll have you know, [Name] is nothing like that. She’s grown, a hundred times stronger than you and I will make sure to kick your ass if I ever hear her name come out of your lips again.”

The other straw hats were all watching with heavy glares piercing the opposing pirate ship and specifically the Captain, each member getting ready to attack as needed.

“Get the hell off my ship, now.” Luffy demands, his voice cold, quiet and the most intimidating stare that would even make an Emperor tremble.

It didn’t take long for the opposing crew to pick up their captain and flee in a panic, especially when Luffy cracked his knuckles.

Releasing a small breath of relief you didn’t even know you were holding, you felt someone dragging you away from the deck and the crew, and you look up to find Zoro.

Finding that he was pulling you to the bedroom, he forces you over to the bed and then pulls you on top of him when he laid down.

“Just sleep with me. Forget everything he said and everything that happened.”

-

A/N : I hope you liked this, and I apologize you have to deal with that. So sorry this took so long.

I might allow emergency requests, it depends, I’ve never seen too much of it. I hope everything’s okay though.

[gallickingun]

Hi I saw that thirsts were open and ✨oh boy✨ I would let Tsukishima Kei degrade me to hell with no remorse ✌🏻

tw: degradation; “sir”; dacryphilia; after-care because i am weak and need to be told im pretty; also a little bit of praise but not necessarily praise kink lol;

ps, reminder that ~drabble~ requests are OPEN! this includes sfw/nsfw for bnha, haikyuu, dragon ball, avatar, or jujutsu kaisen!

Your chin wobbles and your eyes look like glass, your fragility projected in your sweet little irises. Tsukishima smirks, tugging his lower lip into his mouth by his canine tooth, “What are you crying for? I’m giving you exactly what you asked for.” 

The plush of your ass is red, throbbing with welts and begging for mercy. You grit your teeth and try to keep your muscles from flexing too much, the pain rippling through you with each small movement. You dig your head into the pillow so you don’t have to look over your shoulder at his condescending tawny gaze, almost like he is glowering down at you for having the audacity to take up the same space, even though you two have shared this apartment for nearly a year.

“I should give you something to cry about,” he licks his lips and digs the heel of his palm into the small crevice between your shoulder blades, shoving your chest down into the mattress. 

To accent his words, he grips your hip with the hand not preoccupied with pinning you to the sheets, blunt nails dug harshly into your skin until he’s left evidence of his presence behind. A sob rips from your lungs, but is muffled by the down of the pillow you stifle yourself with. Tsukishima huffs out a snicker and resumes his relentless pace, each slap of his hips against your ass reminding you of how harsh his hands were mere moments prior.

“K-Kei,” you garble his name, drool seeping from the curve of your lips as you whine, trying to move your hips to no avail, his iron grip on your waist unwavering. Another smack is slashed across your backside and you still your body, squinting out tears, soaking the pillow beneath you.

You feel the uncharacteristically soft plush of his lips press to your shoulder, and your body relaxes under the administration of the affections. It is but a quick reprieve before his harsh, calloused palms and biting words make their return. 

A cry parts your lips when Tsukishima’s middle finger presses against the small bundle of nerves at the apex of your hips, ruthless in his ministrations. You warn him through driveled words that you’re going to make a mess on him, that you’re going to unravel if he continues to touch you like this. You’re not sure if you’re speaking coherently, but it’s all the talk you can afford at a moment like this.

“Filthy little whore,” Tsukishima huffs against your throat, nipping at your ear each time his body ruts up into you. The quick, salacious drag of his cock against your innermost parts is a mixture of pleasure and painstaking ache. He snickers when you wriggle your hips, begging quietly for more than he’s giving you, “Such an eager little bitch. God, you’re so desperate. Aren’t you?”

Your hands scramble behind your back to try and seek out his wrist, his forearm, or his knee. Something, anything, to anchor you before you float away. A weak little, “please, Kei,” trembles from your lips and he sighs like you’re the biggest inconvenience known to man. Even still, a palm reaches forward and presses into the mattress, close enough that you can angle your wrist to wrap your delicate fingers around his pulse point, counting each thud of his veins to bring yourself back to earth.

“So needy,” his tone holds no malice this time, although you suspect he didn’t originally mean for it to come out so tenderly. Tsukishima clears his throat and pistons forward into you to try to get you to forget any benign slip of the tongue he might have made. A high-pitched whine makes your throat ache and he rolls his eyes, a motion you catch with the way your chin is tucked against your shoulder, “What, your fingers can’t make you feel like this? You can’t figure this out on your own? How pathetic.”

You know if you come now, he’ll punish you for it later, since he hasn’t given you permission to fall apart on his cock just yet. His moan is guttural to the point that it sounds like he’s growling when you clamp down on him, your walls begging for reprieve.

He does not grant you the solace you are so desperately searching for, instead peeling his touch from your clit to pinch at your nipple, the sharp lightning strike to your sensitive bud making you keen. Your head slams back into his collarbone and you whimper at the pain of bone on bone, but Tsukishima is as steady and resilient as they come. His voice is low and gravelly in your ear, patronizing to the perfect degree, “I swear to God if you come before I tell you to, you won’t know what pleasure is for weeks. Do you understand?”

Your body is worn out, overstimulation making your cunt flex and your thighs quiver under the strain of holding yourself up for so long. You gulp and sniffle and you cannot react or respond to him, your mouth unable to catch up to your mind.

“I expect an answer,” his tone is clipped and a fresh bout of tears well up in your eyes, but the way he speaks does little to quell the slick between your thighs. Each slap of his hand and his words only washes a new wave of arousal between the walls of your cunt, translucent white dripping down his cock and staining the bed until the sheets are damp.

“Y-Yes,” you manage, nodding so hard your whole body shakes.

The world ceases to spin but your mind cannot stop, so you’re stuck somewhere between upright and dizzy.

Tsukishima’s mouth is close to your ear, the bow of his lips dragging along your lobe, “I hope I misheard you, or did you really not address me properly? Are you looking for a punishment, brat?”

Before you can answer, Tsukishima’s palm strikes your ass several times, until you’re foaming at the mouth with an apology, “Yes sir, yes sir! I promise I-I understand, I-I’m sorry!” And you’re not sure how many times you beg for his mercy, for his forgiveness, but you do so until you’re unable to speak. Between the way his cock spears your cunt, tapping against your spine with each thrust, and the sweet yet poisonous words that fall from his maw, you can’t hold yourself back any longer. 

And so you beg. 

You beg and you beg and you beg for him to either stop his torturous actions or let you feel the ecstasy of release. Your hands claw at him until you leave trails of red on his pale skin, your tears soak the pillow until you cannot make out a dry spot of fabric, and your knees knock mercilessly into his hips to try and still his movements. What you cannot see through the bleariness of your tears and subservient haze is the glint in his irises, honey bleeding down his spine until he feels the sickeningly sweet taste of it in his gut. As if by some form of osmosis he can taste the thick of your cream as you drip down his balls, and he can’t stop himself when he sneers, “Making a mess on these sheets, sweetheart, what a filthy little thing you are.”

“Please,” your voice is so small, so fragile, and Tsukishima feels that familiar twinge in his gut when you fixate your pouting gaze on him. He grits his teeth and turns you so you’re on your back, ankle hooked by his shoulder, only this position does little to help you stave off the impending doom of your orgasm.

“Gonna listen to me, yeah?” his words are rushed and you know that means he is near the end of his patience and his resolve. Tsukishima grunts and his eyes screw shut, hips pausing so he is buried to the hilt, “When I tell you to come, you better come.”

Your teeth clang together with the ferocity in which you nod to tell him you’re listening, and that you will obey. Tsukishima’s cock pulses within your walls, and the reaction makes you cant your hips forward and your eyes roll back just enough that he feels feral at the sight.

“C’mon then,” Tsukishima near-growls in your ear, pressing his chest against yours as his body begs for the closeness this near to pleasure. His hips bruise your supple skin and your fingernails find the flesh of his shoulders to make your own mark, both of you branding the other in the heated moments of ecstasy. He nips your jaw and noses your cheek, voice dropping an octave and you feel the molten magma churn in your belly, “Make a mess on my cock.”

As if that final phrase, one of permission and wanton lust, sets your body free.

A sobbing whine sits pretty on your tongue, eyes screwed shut as you clutch him with whatever parts of yourself you can find within you to move closer. His torso leans back, eyes raking appreciatively over your shaking frame before settling on the conjunction of your body and his. Amber irises narrow as he watches his dick slide between your folds, dripping with your combined arousal, and his whole body shudders.

His name rakes from the back of your throat and it burns but you can’t focus on anything other than the gushing of your insides, aborted thrusts bringing your hips closer as you grip his biceps with unabashed intensity. Your cunt feels warm and you chock it up to your own orgasm, but then you feel Tsukishima’s cock softening slightly, the head of his pulling away from your cervix as he works himself through his own high.

“K-Kei,” your wobbling voice forces his eyelids to open, warm irises seeking out the sight of you.

“You did good,” his mouth finds yours and a soft kiss is volleyed between the two of you, “Proud of you.”

Your eyes are still blown wide, pupils swallowing the color of your irises. Tsukishima nudges his nose against your jaw and kisses faintly down your jugular until he reaches your collarbone, a teasing lick administered to the prickled skin. Your hands go slack against his shoulders, kneading at the muscled plane until you feel your soul settle.

“Did good,” you echo, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I listened!”

Tsukishima laughs, only this time it is genuine and free of it’s usual sarcastic lilt. He massages your thighs and kisses your ankle before resting your legs back against the mattress, still caged between your knees. He nods, reaching up with one hand to brush his knuckle against your cheek, “Yeah, you did. And what happens to pretty girls who listen?”

His kisses trail between your breasts and down over the bulge of your belly until his mouth is hovered over your core, your words and his overlapping as you watch him in awe, his pink tongue slipping from between his lips to accentuate the end of his sentence and yours. 

“They get rewarded.”

[bakubet]

You Don’t Need Me

Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

Levi decides he needs a break from commitment.

warnings: angst, kind of? slightly implied cheating (pt. 1)

It had all been going smoothly.

You knew your boyfriend wasn’t one to show much emotion, let alone affection. He wasn’t one for PDA, and didn’t openly showcase your relationship.

He was doing his usual paperwork, expeditions here and there, tidying his workspace and bedroom on the daily. You were beside him. Helping here and there, leading your squadron as per routine.

Everything was going smoothly.

So why was your relationship not?

-

“You don’t need me like I need you.”

-

“Levi, let’s talk.”

You had caught his wrist in the hallway after the sparring session. Yet again he gave you that cold, hard stare that he would face everyone with.

No softness in his expression, no loving eyes or fragment of expression in them.

He reminded you of a blizzard on ice cold mountaintops, the depth in his eyes overlooking a vast, icy river seen just a few meters away. Touchable, but just out of reach.

You sigh in disappointment, forcing yourself to avert your gaze from the sight you knew would hurt you.

After all, what had you been expecting?

It had been a while since you two interacted, a larger expedition coming up in the next month, preparations taking up more time than usual. However, Levi had always made time for you two. Whether it just be talking during meals or having tea before bed. Lately, it’d seem like he’d been avoiding you.

After a moment of silence, you glanced back at him only to see the irritated expression on his face. Your gaze dropped once again.

“Let’s talk...please.”

Your boyfriend huffed, looking like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He flicked your hand off his wrist to grab you by the forearm, tugging you in the direction of his bedroom.

The wooden door slamming shut behind you, you were hastily pushed down to sit on the couch. The man you called your lover snatched the chair that sat behind his desk and dragged it over to rest in front of you, its legs scraping across the ground with a coarse, gravely sound, unpleasant to the ears.

He sat with a “flomp!” his left leg swinging to rest over his right, crossing his arms in front of his chest in his ever-so-present, condescending manner.

“Speak.”

You blinked at him in confusion, at a loss for words.

“S-sorry?”

His eyes narrowed at you, giving you a once over before tilting his head up as if you were scum beneath his feet. Your chest hurt. How could he look at you like that? Like you didn’t belong here?

“You asked to see me, so speak.”

“Oh, y-yes,” You took a deep breath, not that it would help calm your nerves at this point. You chose your words carefully before looking him firmly in the eye. “I think you’ve been avoiding me, and I’d like to know why.”

Levi remained unfazed. Of course he did...what were you expecting?

You had set your hopes too high, thinking he had cared for you. It was obvious he had been avoiding you, why wouldn’t he? You weren’t especially bright, nor pretty, nor strong-willed...

Of course he’d get bored of you. You’re a burden, a setback in his quest to save humanity.

How could you ever let yourself think you were anything more than a late night stress relief?

Levi never treasured you, he never wanted you.

Still, why is there a piece of your heart that wants him to deny all of these doubts, to say that he longs for you and loves you, that he wants to hold you at night and make you his wife one day...

“Let’s break up.”

The familiar, cold voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What?” You voice, eyes widening.

His eyes turn away from yours this time, gaze shifting uncomfortably like he wasn’t able to focus on one spot. His voice cracks when he says the words, “You’d be happier without me.”

You would’ve laughed if you weren’t about to be broken up with by humanity’s strongest soldier.

Levi clears his throat awkwardly, brown irises meeting yours once again. “If you need an explanation, I’ve been avoiding you all week to sort out my thoughts. Unfortunately, I cannot make you happy.”

“Try Erwin next time.”

Those were the words he spouted before hurriedly pushing you out the door, you not being able to react as you stood outside his bedroom.

“E- Did he just say Erwin?” You voiced aloud, the situation hitting you like a truck. “What the actual-” Your thoughts were interrupted by a light humming. “Hange?”

Hange’s eyes lit up at the sight of you. “Oh hey, Y/N! How are you?” She asked as she scooted past you, grabbing onto the door handle to Levi’s bedroom and pushing the door open a creak.

Your heart plummeted as you realized how easy it was for your friend to waltz into Levi’s bedroom unannounced late at night.

Is this why he wanted to keep your relationship on the down low? Why couldn’t he just tell you...

“I’m doing well, thank you! Have a...have a nice night.” You faltered at the end of your sentence, forcing a smile and turning to walk swiftly down the path to your own bedroom.

a/n: hi! welcome to my very first fanfic post on tumblr!! i hope you enjoy it, i haven’t written in a while but am trying to get back into da groove <3 (^^)v

p.s. this is very much unedited so i apologize for any errors or writing mishaps!（◞‿◟）<3

[insufferablelust]

Naughty list. (ThrilledAu!Mgg x Reader)

Warnings : Slight smut, Spanking, D/s themed ofc, The use of ‘sir’ & ‘daddy’, mention of edging, mention of overstimulation for future reference, sadist!mgg, condescending!dom, Marking, Its.. um Filthy as many of you already know. Please read at your own discretion.

Hello this is the christmas one shot i’ve promised, its 3 am rn and im so sorry i just done finishing this because things had been so chaotic. But i hope y’all enjoy and please wait up patiently for my next fics which will come in the next several days as promised.

PLEASE NOTE : This blurb sets inside my Thrilled Au, after the Bratty Rendezvous chapter which i have yet to upload, though i will upload it very soon. So basically this fic is the filler chapter and a teaser for the two upcoming chapters of thrilled! so i hope that makes sense and i hope y’all enjoy it. Happy holidays and Merry christmas! Take care, x D

MASTERLIST HERE.

He felt her before he even opens his eyes, a small smile threaten to quirk at the side of her lips in response to the feeling of small kisses all along his face down to his neck— the oh so warm familiar kisses by the love of his life.

“Matthew wake up.” Y/N whispered, giggling to herself as she felt him grunt below her at the feeling of her sinful lips nips and bites onto his skin, “It’s christmas morning, come on daddy.” She whispered once more, but this time doing it with grinding down where her bum was sat prettily atop of his crotch, just enough to make him wrap his hand around her neck.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” His grip tighten a bit just then, as her eyes closed and a smile etched beautifully onto her lips. Matthew scoffed at her reaction before sitting up on the bed, bringing her up with him so he could lean against the headboard.

“J-just waking you..” Was all that she could manage, with shallow breaths and innocently batting her lashes up at him. “Oh, princess..” He murmured as he finally took in the sight of her.

She’s perched up beautifully on her lap, with her thigh high christmas themed socks, his sweater and a collar— a special one he had gifted her a few days prior, with the color red and his named engraved on the inside lining where nobody could see but she certainly could feel. On the outside, it might look like a normal choker necklace but they both know very well that that’s not the case. Its a symbol of him, latched onto her every second of the day— its their dynamic, its how they work.

“You look like a dream, little one..” He gasped, as she whines on his lap, a perfect little noise reserved only for him, making his hard on pressed oh so good against her bottom. “Dressed up for y-you!” Y/N exclaimed happily and slightly out of breath by the way Matthew’s grip just tightens and tightens— just like he was trying to squeeze the cuteness out of her.

God, you’re his, and his his his only.

“I know baby, so so pretty for me, being so so good.” He gave her cheek a pretty light slap, just to make her gasp and leave her sweet little mouth open slightly— all messy and beautiful. “Thank you daddy, just for you.” She smiled then, awaiting for his instruction just like how he likes it— or more importantly, just like how she craves it.

Matthew cocks his head to the side a little as he contemplates on what he’s going to do with her, it’s always like this with them— just wanting to do so many things, explore everything, explore each other’s limits, especially hers. Always hers, he thinks, whatever makes her happy.

So with a simple instruction he lessen the grip on her neck before pressing a small kiss on her forehead, “Go to our room now, and be on your position, daddy has to make some calls for our party this evening but you better be on your position by the time i get there or else.” He taps her cheeks twice, eyes pierced onto hers— as she nods a little, “yes daddy.”

“Go on.” She smiled before pressing a gentle peck to his lips, getting up and padded her tiny feet towards the door, “Oh and princess?”

“Yes daddy?”

“anything off but the socks and your collar.”

—

He’s doing this on purpose, your mean mean daddy is doing this on purpose— making you wait on your knees by the bench inside your dungeon, just waiting and waiting until you feel your knees beginning to fall asleep on you. But you tried your best to be presentable, just how daddy likes it.

Your body jumps a little when the sound of his footsteps rang through the room, sound of the door closing has your feet tingling and your cunt wet, oh he could definitely see the glisten gleam from it for sure.

“I thought you’d be well acquainted with my rules by now, pup.” He let out a disapproving sigh, which made your cheeks warmer and you instantly straighten your back, part your thigh a little and gulps— trying to remember what you did wrong this time.

“I—“

“Ah ah, you know better than to speak without my permission in this room do you?” He scoffed, walking around the room just to tantalize you, sending shiver up your spine. “you were good this morning, so good that daddy had half the mind to make you cum but now i’m not so sure.” He adds, which earn a gasp from you, Oh how you wanted to cum, you want to cum so so bad, the last time you did was a week ago when you were still in Paris— but right after your little bratty rendezvous there was no way in hell, he’d let you cum, oh no no, kitten doesn’t deserve to cum until master says so.

You bit your lip in agony, trying to block the tears that were about to slip from your pretty eyes down your heated cheeks, just trying to do anything he asks— anything. You let out a gasp as he tilt your chin up, which he cooed at and sigh softly, whilst his thumb brush side to side on top of your lips.

“Look at your tears, baby. Do you think it’ll work? hm? you think because daddy’s little elf put on a show this morning, that daddy is going to let this slide?” He pouts condescendingly, watching as the tears finally dripped down your cheeks, oh he wanted to photograph this so bad, his little fairy.

“Go on, answer daddy.” He pats your cheek with his thumb as you tried to find the courage to speak, “I-I’m sorry d-daddy.. i.. please..” Matthew sighed softly, seeing the genuine regret behind your eyes has him reprimanding your punishment, daddy was a tamer, but he was and will always be fair— forgetfulness is a human mistake, besides it’s christmas, and he figured he needed to give you something from all the torture you’ve endured since Paris.

“Up, princess. Let daddy braid your hair.” He tugged her collar a little which earned a gasp from her, though it was a combination between the sensation on her neck and realization on what she did wrong, “Daddy i—“

“Shh, up.” He cuts you off before you could mutter an apology, or several apologies. You should’ve known better, if he told you to be on position, what he always meant is for you to be on your knees by the bench, with your hair untied specifically because he likes to braid you before play time, and today you’ve put your hair up, completely forgetting a clear important rule. Matthew helped you get on your shaky feet, as you trembled a little, whispering a small, “thank you daddy.” Before facing the bench, back toward him so he could process on your hair.

“Tell daddy why he’s punishing you tonight.” He hummed behind her, fingers expertly tangle and untangle through her hair, looping each side to the center as he formed a perfect braid from the top of her hair and making his way down. “Because i forgot daddy’s rule.” You muttered shakily, voice laced with regrets at yourself for disappointing daddy.

“Which rule is it, pup?” His voice seemed so close now, she could practically feel his warm breath against her skin that she zoned out for a moment before a tug on her hair brought her back, “I— i didn’t untie my hair, sir.”

“Why is it important?”

“Because daddy needs to braid my hair, and.. and it teaches me to.. remembers daddy’s rules.” You finished with a sigh, before feeling a soft kiss placed on top of your shoulder blades, “10 with my hands. Go and bend over the bench, bunny.”

—

Y/N braced herself as she felt the stinging, heated sensation smacked across her bottom, making her grip tighten onto the railing bench and her body shakes a little. “F-Five, thank y-you daddy.”

“Color?” Matthew pressed his palm against her stinging skin as he try to soothe the aching pain a bit, it’s true that they both love this— loves the thrill, the pain, and the overall pleasure that comes from this. However, Matthew would never enjoy hurting his bunny without any context, or out of proportion, it might look like he has all the control but they both knows well that she has all the control, if she wants to stop, she knows what she needed to say.

“G-Green sir please.” Oh how he loves the way her voice croaked underneath him, the way she arched her back toward him— as if asking for more, ready for more just as she deserve, as she behaved. So he delivered then, 3 slaps in a row as she cries out between each milliseconds, and sobs out the thank you’s and pleas.

“just two more now, y’think you can take it, petal?” Matthews hand crept up to where your collar snuggly wrapped around your neck, thumbing the soft leather as he makes sure you’re still okay which you confirmed by a ‘yes daddy, please continue’

The last two slaps were unexpected, catching her off guard as it landed way way below where her cunt drips dewy sweet honey, and where her by now— swollen little pearl sits, making her jumps and scream out in a blissed pleasure. “Fuck! oh! nine ten! daddy thank you!”

“Shh shh, come here, good girl.” Matthew gently helped her stand before picking her up bridal style and sit down onto the bed which was installed on their room, his lips were pressed tightly onto her forehead as he soothes her aching skin and mumble calming words. “It’s okay, ‘s all over, such a good girl, little one.”

“Daddy...”

“Yes angel?”

“Do i deserve to cum now?”

“Oh petal, you will be begging to stop cumming later, just you wait.”

—

EXCUSE MY GRAMMARS AND TYPOS, my laptop is not accessible right now so i have to use my phone to write and upload so please bear with me. Thank you, i love you and take care.

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