#SIR I DO NOT GO OUT I BARELY LEAVE THE HOUSE. WHAT DO U EXPECT FROM ME

[machiten]

thats my seat!

academic rival scaramouche x gn!reader headcanons

warnings: scaramouche(bro is a whole warning), foul language(it's scaramouche we're talking about here so), reader is mentioned to have bad eyesight, fights, angst, academic validation, bad parenting

barely proofread lmao im tired, it's 3:15 am and im starving. there will be a chapter 2 ofc i just wanted to post something goddamn my blog has been empty for so long (4 days) didn't have a way to keep track of the word count but it's kinda long. anyways hope u enjoy!!

oh god

when i say rival, i mean full on brawls on the school hallway

so let's say you've been top of your school since day one. your name has always been at the top of the score board every exam, always class representative, and well known as a smart kid ever since you steped on school premises.

you work hard to keep your grades up, your parents pay enough attention to your succesful brother and none for you

having a successful brother plants high expectations on you. i mean, he did very well, so why cant you? you both have the same blood running through your veins. your parent's praise, that is all you've ever wanted. and yet you're not even informed if there's a family outing, leaving you in your house alone

it has been like that for years

not until one day, you enter into the classroom and someone else is sitting in your chair. someone unfamiliar is sitting on your chair.

"hey, excuse me. i sit there." you pointed at what is supposed to be, your chair. "what, i dont see any names on it." Ok, what. when you finally look up to the culprit, my goodness. Fierce purple eyes that looks like it holds the entire universe, his skin as fair as a maiden, lips plum as a springs fruit, a beauty mark at the underside of his right eye, and his hair a unique color of indigo that is cut in a weird jellyfish-ish hairstyle. while yes, he looks ethereal, not gonna lie (if he had longer hair you might've mistaken him as a girl) his personality certainly does not match his elegance. an annoyed look currently adorned his face, as if you disturbed his peace.

"done checking me out? i know im hot, i get that look everyday so dont ever think you're special." and now it changed into a cocky smirk. the nerve! not only is he sitting on someone else's chair but it seems like his head is getting bigger too. "well excuse me, i havent seen your around school until today so im guessing that you're the transfer student our teacher talked about last week. but do you mind finding a new spot, i sit there." you glared at him.

"no i like it here. here's a better idea, why don't you find a new spot. im the new student here, show some courtesy."

"no- what, go away thats my seat!"

"alright everyone, settle down- oh, i see that the new student is here already," the teacher finally came in the classroom, cup of steaming hot coffee in his hand. Everyone sat down on their seats while you are still standing up waiting for this person to look for another seat. Lmao guess what, he didnt move.

"(name), c'mon sit down. i know getting a new friend is exiting but we have to greet the new student properly. now go find your seat."

"wait but sir--"

"sit down, (name)"

"yeah that's right (name), sit down" a voice beside you spoke. you looked over to the new student adorning a triumphant grin at your loss. and so you are now forced to sit at the back, barely seeing what's in front because of your poor eyesight, and wearing a vengeful spirit.

epic first meeting

the seats in the back are okay, its breezy and you now sit next to xiao (his music taste is so good) but yeah, you cant really see the board clearly so you get notes from mona at the front

at first, it was a one sided rivalry. how hated how rude and bratty he was and at that time, he didnt seem too care (like he get those everyday). but then he started fighting back and oh boy he hasn't had this much fun in years!

the way you retort back to his harsh words is so amusing to him. usually, no one would dare talk to him in a degrading manner but then you came into his life, claiming that he's sitting on your chair, and it was never the same ever again.

now, he looks forward to everyday. he rises up earlier so that he can sit at your chair first, he keeps looking at the classroom door everytime someone enters (in case it's you so that he can give that shit eating grin), he loves how your face gets messed up when he wins an argument, he loves how small your hands are compared to his when you have a brawl in the hallways, and most of all, he loves it when you give him the shit eating grin when you win something (he says he let's you win sometimes because he pitied you, but is it really?)

to him, this is fun, amusing, entertaining. but to you? you've never felt this much hate in a human being, ever.

scaramouche is smart as fuck and he demonstrated that loud and clear

he aced the math test that the teacher gave that wasn't even taught to him

in presentations, he speaks loud and clear and you can really understand the point he's making

he doesn't really like group works (you noticed) but if he was put in a group, he does most of the job flawlessly

sports? oh of course. he's really good at baseball (pitcher). he's also good at other sports but not as good as baseball

oh and pray that you don't get him as your opponent in debates, you will be grilled like a brisket

did i mention he sleeps in like 70% of his classes? it's not like the teachers can do anything about it. he excels in everything, at least let him sleep as a gift

the only times he would be awake is when he pulls on your strings

but of course, you're also good in all of these, that's why you both are rivals

you fight almost everyday for the top spot (and for your original seat) to the point where its a daily routine to everyone else to see you both pinching and arguing in the classroom

He doesn't have any close friends (ahem childeahem) and it's either bc ppl are intimidated by him or he just doesnt give a fuck about friends

maintaining grades is one thing, winning against him is another

you are very intellegent, yes, but you work very hard for your grades every night. losing sleep studying for upcoming quizes and making sure your projects are perfect. unlike him who doesnt even try

you havent seen him study once

and it makes you see yourself lower. you're both equally in par with your grades but thats when he doesn't even try. what happens when he takes everything seriously? what if he studies as hard as you do? where will you stand then?

but when you got 2nd place for the 3rd time this year, he took it too far

"what the hell?! this is the third time!" you looked at the results in the bulletin board expecting to see your name in first place. you studied hard, right? so then why,,,

"oh oops, looks like i did a little too well again this time. aw and i didn't even answer some of the questions because i felt bad for beating you the last two times." a snicker is heard behind you and sure enough, piercing indigo eyes is looking at yours in pure pity. "thanks i guess. are you happy now? that's three times in a row!" aether beside you is now having a deadpan expression, expecting the worst. 'alright here we go again'.

"oh yes very, you know what makes me even happier? your declaration that you're inferior to me. why do you even try anyways, it's clear to everyone that im better. you're just wasting your time burying your head in your books and notes when we both already know who's coming at the top. imagine not meeting your parent's expectations." he's now looking down on you, beating you up with words that you know damn well are true. but that doesn't mean you're not gonna fight back.

"what."

"oh you know, maybe if you tried harder, the cost of your education might be worth it for your parents. honestly, if i we're them id--"

before he could finish his sentence, a loud echoing smack is heard all across the hallway, making everyone's attention turn to the commotion. scaramouche head is now turned the other way, his cheeks beginning to flare from the hit as he glared at the culprit, you. "you motherfucking bitc-!" you tackled him and due to surprise, he fell back. aether is now alert, shouting your name trying to get you to your senses.

you gripped scramouche's collar, rasing his head from the floor and slamming it back down. "you're an asshole, you know that?! i try my best everyday and this is what i get?!!" he fights back, hand on your arm that's trying to get a hold of his hair and another on your neck, holding back your weight.

"you don't know what it's like!! you will never know what it's like being compared to your brother everytime they get a chance!! you dont know what it's like going home to nothing but words of disappointment when you did everything you can to get their approval!! you will never know what it's like for your efforts to go to waste!! you will never know the feeling of being kicked out of your own home and live in a run down apartment!! i work day and night, i lose sleep everyday, i barely have anything for myself to live, and now i have to deal with your ass every single day too?!!"

"(name)! calm down, hey-!"

"fuck off aether!"

every word you spat pricked scaramouche's heart and made him struggle from your assaults. this isn't fun anymore. he knew a bit of your situation, kazuha told him. but he never knew it was this bad. all he knew is about your parent's expectations. he didn't even attempt to fight back this time and just defends himself from your blows. 'shit, i took it too far.'

"you dont have to remind me of my incompetence! i already know, i know damn well i will never be enough!! you're right, why do i even try, right?! you're so fucking annoying, doing everything so effortlessly, like school is a nuisance!! can't i take a fucking break?!!" at this point, you cannot control your tears from falling into his cheeks, rolling down his porcelain skin.

"what are you--?!"

"why can't i be a genius like you?! why dont i have everything that you have?!! i did everything i can, what am i doing wrong?!" you are now saying intangible words that no one can decipher because of the mess of emotions you are feeling at that moment. you're about to deliver another blow when someone held you back.

"(name)! you're doing too much! thats enough!!" goddamn she is stronger than i thought, scaramouche deals with this everyday?? aether pulled you away from the tangled mess that you and scaramouche managed to create. you're struggling his hold but after a bit, you slumped down having no more strength to keep going, sobbing quietly. "...(name)?" aether said.

"...i am so tired of everything, why do i even keep trying. i.. i just want to make my parents proud..." sniffles could be heard from where you are being held my aether's arms. aether supported you from the groud and led you away from the scene and the prying eyes of other students. before you both can disappear completely, aether turned around and gave scaramouche a threatening glare. "i know you both bicker a lot but you took it too far. you are an asshole and you better change that attitude of yours or i will send you home even worse than your condition right now." and you both are gone.

scaramouche is still sitting on the floor, his arm supporting his weight, bruises are forming in his skin while he's craddling his cheek that is now very noticeably red and flaring from the slap you served him earlier. he doesn't know how to act, really. should he apologize? should he just walk away and like nothing happened? should he report you for physical abuse? he didn't know anything.

what he does know though is that he fucked up, big time. he knows that you'll never want to see his face ever again, he knows that nothing will be the same again, and he knows thag the feelings he has will never be reciprocated, after what he's done.

he actually just found out recently, when someone from the other class was making fun of you and he didn't like it one bit, he's the only one allowed to make fun of you, everyone back off. scaramouche can see the crowd dissipating, no longer interested since the main action is gone. he sat there on the floor the whole time, rethinking his life choices, wondering if he said things differently instead of those. would he be seeing you tomorrow? will you still argue with him about nonsensical bullshit? can he still hold your hand whenever you pinch him?

he heard footsteps and before he can look up, someone had smacked him in the head.

"what the fuck-!!"

"i want to say 'are you okay', but to be honest you kinda deserved that." a mop of ginger can bee seen hanging from someone's head.

"fuck off childe, and why did you smack me?!"

"because you deserve it. but y'know, it's nice having front row seats seeing you ruin your life because of that toungue of yours. aether's right you're an ass." he helped scaramouche from the floor, dusting his uniform from the filth. "ill take you to the infirmary." scaramouche can only nod, feeling lethargic after all that energy spent.

he hopes to see you the next day, acting like nothing ever happened.

part 2

[immeasurablesaladagere]

hiya!!!! can u write about autistic regressor house going non verbal when upset and how wilson deals with it

- @tummy-rubs-for-wilson-pup

Order up! Also a little headcanon to go with even if it doesn't come up in the fic, but I feel like Wilson attempted to teach him baby-sign for non-verbal episodes but House just refused to learn it and took it as an excuse to learn as many inappropriate signs as possible to use while regressed.

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Word Count: 950

Summery: Wilson is paged down to House's office by the ducklings to find that House has barricaded himself inside. Two sleepless days have triggered a meltdown and a non-verbal episode and Wilson helps him calm down.

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Wilson was just filing his last batch of paperwork for the night when his pager went off, because of course it would. Who really wants to leave work on time? Not him, no sir. Even worse, he was being paged to House’s office, which meant a case, which meant he might not be getting home that night at all. Excellent. 

It was best not to keep House waiting, so off to his office we went. But as he came down the hallway he paused. Standing outside of House’s door lost and confused were Cameron, Chase, and Foreman. It was at times like this that House’s nickname “ducklings” made sense. They really did look aimless without him.

“I was paged?” He asked, and all three looked some form of relieved.

“Perfect. House is in his office and won’t talk to us, we were hoping you could figure out what was going on.” Cameron explained, looking over her shoulder into the shuttered window of the office.

“Okay? That sounds like typical House behaviour, what makes this special?” It wasn’t exactly uncommon for House to shut himself away from people for extended periods of time. Sure, at work it might be a bit more socially inconvenient, but House had never been one to care about that. 

“Well he ran out in the middle of a DDX for one,” Chase chimed in, and that was concerning. “And then when I tried to check on him he pitched his tennis ball at me. I think he’s hiding under his desk.”

Why hadn’t they led with that? Now that they were standing here, it was blatantly clear how tired the three of them were. Their eyes were tired, postures slouched, and Cameron was even rubbing her eyes. “Out of curiosity, when was the last time you all went home?”

“Two days.” Foreman answered flatly.

Wilson sighed. And knowing House, he’d probably been there longer. “Okay. Why don’t you guys go home, get some sleep. I’ll deal with House.”

“Thanks, Wilson.” Cameron said, and the ducklings left down the hall for what what Wilson hoped would be a restful night’s sleep.

He tapped gently on the glass door. “House? Can I come in?”

He didn’t get a response, but he wasn’t expecting one. If House was sleep-deprived, had fled from a meeting and was hiding under his desk like Chase said, then Wilson suspected sensory overload, maybe a meltdown. He gently pulled on the handle and to his surprise, the door opened. The office was dark, and thankfully the tennis ball was laying on the ground a few feet away. He just hoped House hadn’t found a better, heavier weapon to ward off unwanted guests.

Sure enough, he could just barely make out the form of one Gregory House huddled under his desk, arms pressed against his head and rocking back and fourth. With his suspicions confirmed, he quietly came closer and pushed aside the desk chair to sit down on the floor. His bones creaked.

“House? It’s Wilson. What do you need from me?” He asked quietly.

House didn’t stop rocking and he didn’t speak, but he did look up. His eyes were wide and unfocused, and the bags underneath them were heavy. But there was something else, too. He nodded slightly.

“What do you need?”

House made a broken groaning sound and rocked a little harder, pressing the heels of his hands against the sides of his head and dragging them up and down his scalp.

Wilson took a guess. “Do you want pressure?”

He got a nod. Carefully, he reached forward and pulled House out from under the desk and held him with his back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around House’s shoulders and squeezed as tightly as he could, and House let out a sigh and slowly relaxed.

He began to lean against him more and more the longer they sat, and eventually he was so still that Wilson thought he had fallen asleep right there, until he felt House’s hand reach for his own and begin to play with his fingers. There it was. 

“…How old are we, House?”

The hand stopped, like he was thinking about it, then gave four gentle taps.

“Thank you for telling me, you did a good job House. The ducklings told me you’ve been here for a couple of days, was it for a case?”

House nodded.

“Well, I think it’s time to go home and get some sleep, hm? You’ve been working hard for a long time.”

A firm head-shake. Of course. 

“What if I told you we could get burgers on the way back? Would that sweeten the deal?” He offered. No amount of reasoning like you’re too tired or you’re too little would make a difference to House, so he went with the next best thing. Bribery.

And just like he expected, House only took a second to think about it before nodding.

“And should we go to McDonalds to get a toy? I hear they have Hot Wheels.”

Like a switch House was suddenly much more eager to get going, wriggling off of his lap and tugging on the sleeve of his shirt as if to say “Then what are we waiting for!?”. 

“Okay, okay! I get it. We have to stop by my office to get my things, then we can—.”

But House was already on his feet, cane in hand and hobbling away before Wilson could even finish his sentence. Wilson chuckled, and his poor old-man bones as he got up to follow. God only knew what chaos a four-year-old House could bring upon the hospital.

“Slow down now, old Wilson can’t keep up with you youngins anymore!”

[funeraldoomed]

him: idk tell me where you wanna go tomorrow

me: implodes

[sugrbugz]

𝙰𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 ~ 𝙺𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚘 𝚃𝚎𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚞 ♥︎

a business man kuroo x femboy!male reader concept!

TYSM FOR 100 FOLLOWERS <3

ok females calm down i know everyone’s horny for kuroo, which is why i’ll be posting a female version of this too! i’m just a male who is indeed horny for kuroo soooo….i see u men

CW: heavy degradation..like HEAVY, oral, anal, pet play, bdsm, a little bit of somno (literally just touches your ass while ur sleeping that’s it), face fucking, dycraphilia, lotsa swearing hehe, hate fucking essentially.

was it his fault? not entirely. kuroo had been at the end of his rope before he even walked in the front door. having to deal with corporate executives who thought they were actually useful all day was a chore in itself.

kuroo loved his job, loved his company, loved the money even, but most importantly he loved you. he loved everything about you. he loved how you’d come running down the large staircase when he came home, ready to receive a plethora of hugs and kisses from you. you were the only part of today he was looking forward to.

so when he came home to an empty house, not one with the sounds of your music or your feet rushing down the hall to greet him. he was honestly disappointed. “baby?” he called out loud enough, looking around the main floor a bit before going upstairs. now the sight before him made his heart squeeze, you curled up in the blankets of the bed with your head buried into his pillow? he wanted to cry.

that’s when he noticed it, your clothes. kuroo is as bisexual as it gets, he’s quite literally the poster child. however, in your mlm relationship it was very apparent the type of boys he was into, femboys. with a slight gulp he pulled the blanket back just a bit, careful not to wake you. the large pink night shirt that cling to your body with the literal pair of panties nearly made him pass out.

“even when you’re sleeping you aim to please me..” he mumbled running his fingers down your back before cupping your ass cheek with one hand. no movement from you yet. you two had talks about kinks before, it wasn’t uncharted territory and sure enough he remembered what he was doing right now was okay, you’d given him consent multiple times to do it but even then he still wanted fresh consent. maybe you fell asleep because you weren’t feeling good or were having a bad day and needed to sleep it off.

he lightly shook you, “hun..” he whispered leaning down to kiss your cheek softly. smiling when you whined softly. “you okay babe..? anything wrong?” he asked softly. you opened one eye, making him smile wide. “mhm…’m okay” you mumbled sitting up slightly, your shirt falling off your shoulder slightly. “that’s good..now…i have a favour to ask, kitten”

after the petname you knew what that favour was going to be. “anything for you.” you smiled softly, shifting your position so you were sitting on your knees in front of him. you knew what came next and so did he.

“sucha good boy” he praised softly, hands finding the collar around your throat. “you didn’t take it off since last night? that’s cute..maybe i’ll get you something similar that you can wear in public?” he hummed.

you knew better than to speak unless he was genuinely asking you a question but you still gave him a gently nod to show your interest.

“what a good pet…to be completely honest with you, i’ve had a terrible fucking day. you know how i get when i’m not having a good day don’t you angel?” he asked, a hint of cockiness to his tone.

“i’ll be back. by the time i am you know what i expect to see.” with that he kissed your forehead and left the room. you didn’t want to test him today, sometimes you’d be a brat but today was not that day.

you quickly stripped down, clothes folded neatly placed on the side table so they were accessible for aftercare. your hands found your lap, pressing your hands in between your legs to hide the inevitable boned that came with him using you like he wanted to. surely he wouldn’t know if you gave yourself a little attention right? it was just so hard to stop yourself..it would feel too good.

snaking one hand down you grab onto your own length, gently stroking it. you shiver a bit at the feeling, both your cold hand and the sexiness of know that if you’re caught kuroo would make your life a living hell for a couple of hours, was thrilling.

when you and kuroo started getting into bdsm he put rules in place, ones that you needed to follow in the bed and even in regular life. one of the big ones? always ask your master permission to play. it was almost like you could hear him saying it back in your head, the guilt was starting to set in but it was just too late. right as you went to stop your movements, the door opened again, leaving you and kuroo in a very long intense gaze.

“well..what do we have here love? is my good boy breaking the rules?” he simply walked over, tossing the lube among other things he brought to the side chair near the bed. “n-no i didn’t do anything!” you whined in protest.

kuroo slowly leaned down, hand gently cupping your face, “i don’t fucking believe you.” he whispered before bringing the hand on your cheek back a bit to give it a smack then quickly taking the stinging skin back in his hand. “one thing i hate more than a whore who doesn’t fucking listen is a liar.” he spits.

he could quite literally get off on the shocked expression on your face currently, “now let’s try this again. did you break a rule?” he asked, eyes literally begging you to try and lie again. “yes master..” you sighed in defeat, you knew the punishment would be bad.

“do you know what happens to naughty boys that don’t listen and lie? do you kitten?” he let go of your face now, walking over to some of the things he brought up to the room. “they get punished” you replied quickly, not wanting to give him any other reason to punish you harder. “they do…you’re so smart baby..” he came back over, shoving you flat down on your back before using a flogger over your pretty pink tip.

“if only you weren’t a needy dumb slut.” he laughed striking again. you were left there to just wiggle and take it, whines and gasps leaving your mouth like a gospel. “i just wanted to come home and have a good time with my pretty kitty..and of course your stupid cock had to ruin it.” he sighed, peering down at you slightly just to see if you were still okay but judging by your face you loved it.

“i can’t wait any fucking more. get on your hands and knees, and you better arch that fucking back” he grumbled leaning over to grab the lube. this is how you knew kuroo was stressed or upset. even if he was punishing you he always took his time giving you what you wanted but now it was straight to the point.

“god look at that beautiful ass..too bad it’s attached to a cumdump like you, it’s going to be fucking tortured today i promise you that much boy.” he hissed giving it a rough slap. you flinch forward from the sting, a loud whine leaving your mouth. that only makes him do it again, harder this time. so hard it’s already formed a raised little imprint of his hand.

with every smack you jolt forward causing your cock to rut against the blankets, there was just so many sensations at once that you couldn’t help it when you came untouched, load seeping out onto the bed.

you’re fucked.

“did you just fucking cum?” he laughs loudly, one more extremely hard slap coming down, basking in the way you scream and whine about being sensitive. “you’re fucking pathetic. is that all you need? the bare fucking minimum?” he cussed at you. “you better fucking apologize” he grunts out.

“i-i’m so sorry! ‘m sorry master i-i didn’t mean too! it just feels soo good!” you practically sobbed, babbling like an idiot about how much you love him and that you’ll do better. he loved breaking you like this but he knew it was also emotionally taxing. “what do i always tell you baby?” his voice was a bit softer now, wiping a stray tear that did slip from your eye.

“t-this is just for fun..you don’t mean anything you say” you sniffled looking up at him with those cute little eyes of yours. “that’s right. good boy” he praised, “colour??” he asked immediately after. “green” you smile giving him a little thumbs up.

with your confirmation kuroo quickly grabbed you by the small amount of hair you had, pressing your face against the tent in his pants. “good..then it’s only fair i get to cum too yeah?” he smirked, stroking your hair gently.

“yes sir you do..i promise i’ll do good for you!” you ramble quickly, tiny hands working on his dress pants buttons. he watched you with hooded lids, just admiring how quickly you were trying to please him. “maybe your punishment will end if you’re good enough, but remember kitty it won’t be easy” he smirked knowing exactly what he was going to do.

you didn’t reply, just gave him a tiny nod. if you had to work for it then you would. you pull his cock out of his pants, kitten licking at the top a few times before licking a long strip from his balls all the way back up to the tip. to say you had a oral fixation, especially when it came to kuroos cock, was an understatement.

“that’s it…g-good boy-fuck” he praised, hands roughly gripping at your hair. holding you in place when you tried to take most of his length into your mouth, what didn’t fit your hands fumbled with. however kuroo was determined to make it fit.

kuroo roughly pulled your head down onto him, basking in the sound of you choking and gagging on his cock, “awh what’s the matter? bit off more than you can chew??” he smirked fucking your face with aggression, hips snapping up flush against your cheeks.

the tears that rolled down your cheeks made him unbelievably horny that he couldn’t stop himself, grunts and moans leaving him mouth while he used yours as a person fuck toy. you knew he was close when his perfect rhythm faltered a little and his grip on you was even tighter. to show him just how bad you wanted it, your hands found his balls, rolling and playing with them.

“goddd~you want this l-load so bad huh? hm? nggh! fuckk! you want it? yeah? fucking taking it stupid slut.” he sounded so unbelievably hot you can’t even help the bit of precum now leaking from your sensitive tip. soon after his statements you felt a warm sensation flooding down your throat, almost choking and coughing slightly since there was so much.

kuroo was still letting out loud moans of exctasy, ending with a soft hum he pulled his cock out of your mouth. the second you were freed you let out a gasp for air and a little bit of a cough but kuroo didn’t care. he grabbed your chin, opening your mouth with his other hand to make sure not even a drop of his cum went to waste. “good kitty..you took my cock so well…maybe you do need a reward?” he hummed, laughing deeply when you nodded quickly.

“face down ass up pretty boy.” he stated, having no problem jerking his still sensitive cock back up into a full erection. you did exactly as he asked before feeling a cold piece of metal against your back, you knew it well. the lead that attached to your collar. after it was clicked into place there were a few kisses up your back before you heard his raspy breath in your ear, “if you cum again without my permission this ass is going to be so fucking bruised and sore you won’t be sitting for months.” he whispered softly before biting the tip of your ear.

your breath caught in your throat but you nodded quickly, “yes sir..i’ll be so good i just really need to feel you..” you whine out, having to force your hips not to rut against the bed. “it’s cute when you’re so unbelievably pathetic for me” he smirked before gently rubbing the tip of his cock against your hole. “you’re clenching around nothing..so pretty..”

you choked out a tiny sob from just how needy you were, he always did this. he liked to break you down before even touching you, you loved it. “a stupid whore” he laughed loudly before giving you another harsh smack. with that he lubed his cock up, groaning a bit from how it felt.

with that he pushed inside, moaning when he bottomed out. he had this plan where he was going to make you cockwarm him for a bit just to tease you but the second he thought about all the stupid shit he had to deal with today? his hips snapped up and aggressively into you making you scream out but he wasn’t listening.

he was stuck in his own head, mentally cussing out everyone he worked with as he fucked all his anger out into his pretty kitty. “a-ah! da-mm! daaddyy!” you whine out nearly snapping him back to reality fully. “what? can’t handle it? is it too much for you?” he spat quickly, his pace not letting up. “everyone’s-nn-fuckin’ disappointing me today! i’m not taking it from you kitten.” he seethed, basking in the sound the bed made as it smacked off the wall.

“daddy! fuckk! ‘s soo goodd” he listened to the way you moaned out, his cock twitching so hard inside you that you could feel it. “yeah? you like it when i fuck your stupid boy pussy” he grinned knowing the way that made your heart skip a beat. “come on then, prove it. show me how much you love this fucking cock, stupid bitch” he smirked smacking your seriously irritated ass cheeks.

that sparked something inside of you, your hips throwing themselves back onto his cock. your moans so loud for him it sounded like screams. “p-please!” you managed to scream out between the loud babbling that left your mouth. “please what kitty?” he grunted, doing his best to focus on you and the squeezing your ass that was practically trying to milk him.

“plea-hhng! please c-cum daddy please!” you screamed, thank fuck he didn’t have neighbours. he smirked and shoved you down so your head was pressed again the mattress, holding your head there he let out a loud fucking moan before completely stilling. you could feel it shooting out in ropes, it felt so good that you came instantly and once again untouched.

“hmm that was cute~” he hummed almost immediately back to his normal self. “colour my love?” he asked gently rubbing your back, wondering if there was possibility to go again. “red” you murmur making him nod before slowly slipping out of you. “are you hurt? was it too much?” he pouted softly, gently rolling you onto your back to keep eye contact with you.

when you couldn’t reply he gently scooped you up and carried you into the bathroom, “it’s okay baby..kuroos got ya’”

[dancingazaleas]

miche zacharias | beauty & the beast

this is for @izukine ‘s ‘fairy tale and mythical creatures’ collab! love you so much liyah <333

tagging: @yeagerslut @xenihime @fiaficsxo @mitsuluv @sukunas-lady @onyxoverride @rintarouss (cus ur a miche fucker. sorry for not warning u abt the tag)

edit: this is unedited, i’m so sorry for any typos.

warnings/tags: cursing, eventual smut, smut, nsfw, romantic sex, size kink(i guess if u squint?), fingering, oral sex/cunnilingus, missionary sex, vanilla

miche was always just a little bigger than anyone around him. he stood like a skyscraper at 6’5, towering over all of his peers. he was more broad one would be at the chest, a tailor once said his bust was around 150 centimeters.

miche was seen as an absolute beast because of this. and it didn’t help that miche’s hair was shaggy, stubble coating his upper lip and jaw, and he had a sniffing problem. he thinks the nose is really what sold everyone.

and in effect, miche was feared. feared by the people in his village, and sometimes even by his own friends. the dark and looming castle he lives in was where he forced to, along with his companions that stood up for the meek man that they called a beast.

the village often sent people who they’ve decided to shun to his estate, expecting for the beast to kill them in cold blood.

in reality, he just sent them to the next village over. he didn’t feel like being disturbed.

it was nothing different when he saw you running to him, tears falling from your pretty eyes while consistently looking over your shoulder. behind you, he noticed a crowd with pitchforks along with torches, screaming for you to get back here to burn you at the stake.

“help!” you cry, “help!”

you stumbled over your own feet, hands clamping down onto his clothed biceps and sobbing while looking at him.

“the next village over is—“

“no! sir, no matter where i go,” you shake your head rapidly, “i will be hunted. hunted for reading the books!”

you looked so desperate clinging onto him, eyes flashing when you cry once more, “you’re the only one who can help me!”

he looks back to the crowd that nears the gates of his home, silently wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his chest. the crowd skids to a stop, especially when miche steps forward and manages to yank a pitchfork from their hands.

“this girl is with me,” he announces, jabbing at the air to back them up, “leave now or die.”

the crowd gapes at the sight of you gathered to his chest, but backs off nonetheless. there was nothing they could do against the man that they call a beast.

miche leads you into his home, introducing you to friendly faces that were spread across the house.

“what happened?! did you get rid of the—whoa-ho-ho! who’s this beauty, michey,” someone with messy brown hair exclaims, eyepatch covering their left eye.

“hanji! quit being so disrespectful,” a man follows behind them, tugging them by their shoulders from behind.

“this young maiden was followed by a mob. she read the forbidden books, based off of her words she’s said to me. they planned on hunting her down even if she goes to the next village over,” he leads you past them to a bathroom.

“that’s saddening,” a baritone voice said, the frown evident in his voice, “she's staying with us i’m assuming?”

if his voice wasn’t enough to make you feel small, his looks definitely were. a blond man with bushy eyebrows and a prosthetic arm stood in front of you with something that you can say was a gentle smile. behind him lingered a shorter man, bags hanging from his eyes, one of which had a scar running through it and down to his lip.

“no shit, erwin. miche isn’t heartless,” the crude words make you crack a smile.

miche ignores their comments, “where’s nanaba? she needs a bath and i don’t fully trust her to be alone.”

“what am i needed for,” a feminine person waltzes into the room, a light look on her face.

“this young maiden needs to be bathed with a loose eye on them,” nanaba gently takes your hands into their own.

“what?! why couldn’t i do it?!”

“because you can barely bathe yourself, shitty glasses,” levi grunts and sits on a plush couch in front of the warm fire. you notice he has two prosthetic fingers.

nanaba leads you away before you can hear hanji’s response. you open your mouth to ask a question, but find yourself stuck on what to address nanaba as.

“you can address me as whatever makes you comfortable,” you find that she’s peering at you from over her shoulder.

“oh! i’m so sorry,” you sniffle.

“don’t worry about it, you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. now, what was on your mind?”

“that man… miche, i think the townspeople called him, he’s really kind. he saved me from being burned,” you murmur loud enough for her to hear, “why?”

nanaba took you into a bathroom room and shut the door behind her, “i can’t say i know. the last person he took in was levi, and it wasn’t exactly his choice, more of erwin’s. i think he smells something in you.”

“that’s right, the townspeople wrote that he had the nose of a dog.”

“he does. he’s usually able to tell if someone is good or not just by their scent,” she turns on the bath, “i think he likes you.”

you deny her statement with a laugh, fanning your hand just before you get undressed. you doubt that a beast such as himself could like someone like you.

————

months passed, and as the days went on you found yourself falling in love with miche. the same man who used ‘beauty’ as a nickname for you would bathe in how you’d give a bashful and swat his arm.

truly, he was more like a bear. big and scary, but also cuddly—as much as a bear could really be—and soft. miche had a heart of gold, that much was obvious when he started to wear it on his sleeve.

he cherished his time with you, even if others were around and he wanted you to himself. he loves the wandering gazes you give when you sit under the wisteria tree in his garden. the look of curiosity that brightens your face, eyes wide and staring at the world he used to think was cruel.

miche tried not to be a sap. he hadn’t ever since he was born, and he didn’t want to start now. but he couldn’t help it.

if the world that shamed him and hurt him was able to create such a kind yet sarcastic beauty, then maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought.

but he was scared of hurting you. in more ways than one. mentally, miche was a quiet and seemingly unaffectionate person, even with someone he loved. miche also had a tendency to be blunt at times, and it has made you upset on multiple occasions.

physically, however, miche’s terrified of being with you just because of it. as you’ve observed, miche isn’t exactly small..

but you practically make him feel as such.

especially right now as you crack jokes with him and teaching him how to waltz. it doesn’t help that you’re leading the dance and that he was stumbling over your feet.

“miche, step this way with me,” you’re incredibly patient.

“i’m scared i’ll step on your foot,” you give him a stare.

“you already have,” you laugh, “it’s okay if you step on my foot, you’ll get the hang of it.”

eventually, he’s able to synchronize his steps with your’s. you trade off the leadership to him, hands on his shoulders. he fumbles a lot more than before, leading to you fumbling over him as well. your shoe presses into his own, and you wince for him while muttering an apology. he’s about to tell you it’s fine, but before he can, he’s stepped on your dress. you yelp and instinctively cling onto miche as you fall onto miche’s bed, dragging him with you.

his arm is immediately at the small of your back and his other hand manages to hold himself up. you flop back onto the mattress when he takes his arm away, cheeks flushed red as he stared down at you.

you look so pretty under him, hair spread beneath you and hands laying next to your head palms up. your pretty lips are parted and your eyes are wide and fluttering.

when he realizes he’s staring, he starts to get ready to get off of you.

“wait!” you gently hold his biceps, stopping his once abrupt movement.

your arms reluctantly and slowly wrap around his neck, eyes darting continuously to his face and to your arms. miche’s breath gets caught in his chest when you pull his face closer to your’s.

“miche… can i kiss you,” you whisper, breath tickling his skin.

miche’s too afraid to speak, so he nods.

your lips start to tingling whenever they’re connected to miche’s heat embarrassingly shooting through your body and to your tummy.

when he pulls away, you accidentally let out a whimper and rub your thighs together. miche’s face lights up again at how needy you look underneath him.

he kisses you again, intertwining his fingers with yours and leaning his weight onto them. he subtly shimmies your body up the mattress, tongue poking at the inside of your mouth. it elicits a soft moan from you, the noise shooting sparks straight to miche’s cock.

“love you,” he sighs with his lips trailing down your neck, large hands shyly starting to grope at your chest.

“love you too,” you bite your lip, watching him undo the buttons at the front of your shirt.

“is this all okay,” his lips tickle your skin as he drags them across the skin of your collarbones.

“yes… yes,” you mumble, slipping out of the shirt and your bra and throwing it somewhere across miche’s room.

miche nibbles at the skin on your breasts, fingers pinching your nipples. you sigh dreamily, hips wiggling from where they lay on the bed. he kisses down your tummy and slips the skirt you’re wearing off of your body.

you’re wearing plain white panties, embarrassment hitting you like a truck. miche doesn’t seem to care at all though, just slips them down your leg and throws them somewhere in his room.

you put a hand on your chest when he spreads your legs, trying to regulate your almost erratic breathing. you couldn’t believe that this was even happening.

soft pecks tickle your calf, slowly trailing up to your thigh and to the trimmed hair of your labia. breaths grow heavy when his tongue hesitantly prods at clit, fingers digging themselves into the wild sheets of his bed.

after seeing your small flinches, miche closes his lips around the bud. you immediately throw your head back as he starts to suck and lick at it, electricity shooting down to your toes that are curled over his shoulders.

he slips a large finger into you, bending it with caution. you buck your hips with a throaty moan, sealing your eyes closed when miche picked up the velocity of his pace.

unlike with waltzing, miche was getting the hang of it fast. so fast that he’s already slipping a second finger into you, thrusting it at a teasing pace that wouldn’t be able to get you off.

you cry out, the scent of pleasure coating your entire body. it has miche groaning against your clit, a loud and desperate moan being let out in response.

miche’s slipping in a third finger, continuously thrusting in and out whilst curling them.

“miche! miche!” you let a hand get tangled in his hair, gently tugging as if you were trying to rut against his face.

“gonna cum—oh my god! i’m gonna cum,” you whine breathlessly and miche continues at his pace.

you cum seconds later, legs trembling from where they lay over his shoulders. he pulls away and immediately wipes away your juices off of his face with the back of his hand, immediately rewarding you with a sweet and passionate kiss on your lips. you whimper against his rough lips, fingers tugging at the shirt he still had on.

he chuckles when he pulls away, hastily taking off his seemingly elegant clothing and throwing the sheets over your bodies.

miche knew it was going to make you both hot. and miche knew he was paranoid of anyone walking in, even though he knew that everyone wouldn’t bother him. but still, the sheets acted as a shield from the world.

this time was only for the two of you, no one else.

his hand pumps his cock whenever he starts to guide it to your stretched out slit. you don’t exactly realize just how big miche actually is until the head of his cock is pushing into you.

the sting that shoots through your body is immediate, and you immediately cling onto his back. you bite your lip whenever he keeps slipping himself in, pausing when you’ve managed to get a quarter of his cock inside of you.

you pant as tears prick the corner of your eyes, trying to relax your obviously tense body as miche tries to distract you with soft and gentle kisses. he whispers how good you're doing, even rubbing circles into your clit with the pad of his thumb to help loosen the tension.

when you calm down and tell him that you're ready, he continues to slip into you with slowed movements. the stretch is more painful than before and as he slides deeper and deeper into you, you feel like his cock gets bigger with each inch. you stop him again, taking deep breaths and telling yourself that you can do it. you only had a few more inches left, then you would feel good.

when he finally bottoms out, your breath leaves your chest. it feels like he’s in your throat and the intense feeling makes you cry again.

“so full, ‘m so full miche,” you whimper while he wipes away the tears from your face.

“i know, love, it’ll feel good soon,” his voice soothes you.

when you calm down again, the realization at how every part of miche’s cock reaches you comes down upon you.

“m-move, please, move,” carefully wrapping your legs around his waist, you whisper in his ear.

his thrusts start off slowly and deep, moans falling from your lips each time he bottoms out and the tip of his cock hits your cervix. when he realizes that you’re alright, he speeds up his pace.

the way he ruts into you makes you produce a broken scream, scratching at his back and throwing your head back. you’re already starting to feel that certain knot in your tummy again, and you wanted to try to hold it back but the orgasm crashes into you unexpectedly.

you sound so broken underneath him, digging your nails into his skin and squeezing him close to you.

“fuck! thank you, thank you,” you sob, “love you, love your cock.”

he grunts in response, ignoring how your walls suffocate him. he doesn’t help you ride out the orgasm, only speeding up his pace to chase after his own orgasm.

you whine at the sound of his skin slapping against your’s, heat spreading down to your chest. you’re going to come again with the way miche jackhammers into you desperately.

“miche, miche! fuck—please!” your vision whites out as your body thrashes under miche’s hold.

miche can’t ignore how hard your walls grip onto his cock, groans spilling out of his mouth as his orgasm creeps over him.

he orgasms with a breathy grunt, grinding his hips into yours and pumping his cum into you.

when he comes down from the euphoric high, he kisses your lips. your eyelids are heavy after miche pulls his softening cock out of you.

“love you,” he mumbles against your skin after he’s fetched a wet rag and cleaned you up.

you hum in response, too tired and weak to even reciprocate with words. luckily, he knows what you were trying to say. he pulls you into his warm chest, a soft and satisfied hum falling from your lips.

you drift off with his hand rubbing your back. the last thing you remember thinking was that miche was definitely a beast in some aspects.

[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.

[hezuart]

That anaversary aizen looks absolutely fabulous, he looks like a figure skater xd.

I heard along time ago the last arc of the anime was being animated finally bc they pulled a 90s sailor moon were the last season was not either animated or dubbed untill decades later.

I recall near the end of the current 366 episodes there was an episode were the creapy demon ppl woke up in hell and we're all bitter, and there was the other guy who was like, iM cOmEiNg FoR u IChIgO, but then is never mentioned again after and I'm like,why? Why is lt there just plopted randomly into a different arc that seams unrelated.

And locking aizen up underground seems ok, but It deff won't hold, and he will. Escape, and he will kill, you either need that one spell from star, dubbed, the darkest spell of moon the undaunted, a powerfull dark spell that killed immortal beings, that came from best character, eclipsa, the queen of darkness.

We need that.

Or stick him I'm crystal like eclipsa was in star. Is there no one who could trap him in ice or crystal for all eternity.

How about throw him into the centre of a volcano trapped and caged , forverr being killed by heat?

I assume there's space travel, send I'm into a black whole, were a black whole don't fuckin care if your immortal or fat, you will die

:3

Yes, I love anniversary Aizen. His original octopus-butterfly hollow design was ugly so I'm glad he's back to being the fashion icon he is.

Locking Aizen up underground once is one thing, doing it twice after saying he got more powerful by just sitting there, and he escaped to battle the Quincy Soul King God... is another. I think he should have escaped at the end of the Quincy arc. That is the only feasibility.

I heard the anime is coming back for the Quincy arc as well, but because of COVID its probably going to be delayed. (I'm not gonna watch it until the Rain section of the arc then I'm dipping out. I'm only here for Zangetsu)

and funny that you mention that hell scene in the manga :)

-> spoilers for the new BLEACH 73 page anniversary chapter / thoughts/critique on it

So hey you had a premonition! Syazel .... returned? And his hole is outside of his body??? for some reason???

(I didn't understand the explanation or why / how that happens and what that means for the hollow)

And my friend and I were laughing because out of ALL the things. Kubo could do in this anniversary. He gave Syazel his dick back after going to hell. That is iconic. (that's where his hole was located, and now that its not on his body ... well...) This is the funniest thing Kubo has EVER pulled. Kudos to you, sir.

The entire internet is freaking out over Ukitake being in hell. Honestly Kubo has done far worse, and we've established that Soul Society is a corrupt system that hasn't changed, so I'm not surprised he would pull something like this.

At the same time, Kubo 1. cheated his audience. 2. continues to prove me right that he cannot bring himself to kill his characters

1. Hollows who have commit murder in their human life are sent to hell. Syazel and Aaorniero are two of these hollows, and yet, when they are killed, there is NO gates of hell scene. We see them there later in the hell chapter (which was more of a promotion for the fourth movie and I didn't believe it would hold any merit)

But the same goes for Ukitake. We never see the gates of hell take him. What, was hell late? Did hell's gates get lost like an uber before picking him up? It's bull. Withholding such vital information from your audience, not showing the gates of hell when they should pick up this soul IMMEDIATELY is ... I mean its a lie. Kubo lied to his audience.

2. Now we are told powerful shinigami are sent to hell when they die. First of all that sounds like a security threat. Wouldn't shinigami want revenge for that? Or attempt to escape? Why would they still hold loyalty after being sent to a prison of eternal suffering?

Also "Yhwach and Aizen" were the only ones keeping Hell's gates closed is way too convenient and doesn't really make any sense. I feel like Aizen should have deliberately gone to hell to retrieve powerful shinigami / hollows for his army instead of keeping it /closed/.

This is definitely a Kubo-doesn't-know-what-he's-doing-and-is -making- stuff-up-as-he-goes, but it might have a pinch of merit because of previous plot lines.... but either way, there's some big plot holes here, but again, its Kubo, so I expected nothing less.

Again, he can't kill off his characters. He introduced zombification, he introduced immortality through the hougyoku, he has Orihime and Hachigen's reversal / rejection abilities. He brought back Luppi, friggen.... a character who's entire upper half of his body was incinerated. Like.... come on. No. He's dead, you can't bring him back like that. That's a cop out and just weird. You're taking away consequences and grief.

(Also Yamamoto and Unohana deserve to be in hell far over Ukitake, they've done some fcked up stuff in their pasts unlike him)

Also Kubo's favorite character is Mayuri, which.... you're allowed to have a favorite problematic character. But Keeping said character alive and bared from the consequences of abusing his daughter, murdering innocents, and experimenting on your own squad members? Nah. Nope. Kill him, Kubo. Kill this dude.

(his weird attachment to Mayuri is probably why he keeps bringing Syazel back, since Syazel is Mayuri 2.0, but Syazel is the bad guy who does face consequences for his actions while Mayuri is not)

~

Also, I'm certain Kazui and Orihime are going to be THRILLED that their precious husband/dad is going to hell when he dies :)

(I just... Rukia teased Ichigo about leaving Orihime at home. She teased him about having a house wife who he leaves all the chores to. Orihime had two panels. She checks on her son who promised he would be at home and sleep. Kazui fcking breaks his promise like it never mattered to him and JUMPS out the window after pretending to sleep in front of his mother. ... An 8 year old... alone... in the middle of the night.)

Orihime is abandoned. She is not invited to SS, she is not informed of what is going on, her son leaves her.... I...

Orihime is a side character. She doesn't matter anymore. She hasn't mattered for a long, long time.

A part of me is glad she had little screen time, since she tends to waste it, but another part of me is embroiled with rage.

I've even see people try to defend this. "Orihime and Ichigo can't be together ALL the time, that's an unhealthy relationship!" and I'm like guys... that's not the point. The point is Orihime is not part of Ichigo's other life. Any shinigami stuff from now on is none of her business. She's going to stay at home while Kazui and Ichigo go off and save the world. Ichigo is going to be fighting by Rukia and Renji while Orihime watches from the sidelines, or worse, doesn't even know what is going on with her husband and son. Orihime is going to be uninformed and abandoned, because she has not proven she is capable of fighting by their sides(go on, @ me. I will fight this. She's a failure.), and also because she prefers a human life over a dead one. Which is ironic, because she married a dead man. Ichigo is a shinigami, and he will be one forever. god forbid she ever meets his Zanpaktou. She would tremble in fear at the monsters her husband harbors in his soul, especially when she realizes they don't care about her and would rather see her dead. (Zangetsu would absolutely kill Orihime. Not sure about Kazui, but Orihime has not accepted Zangetsu, she does not like either of them, and the feeling is assuredly mutual.) frick now I want to make a comic about this

Also still frustrated over Zangetsu's shikai / bankai regression. Kubo once again lied to his audience. Ichigo has no bankai. How ridiculous is that? The main character of BLEACH doesn't have a bankai. Insulting.

(RIP to Chad. He doesn't exist anymore. He's just gone. No mention, no cameo. Gone.)

Kazui is a demon child. That character from the novels? Hikone? They're the same character. Literally same personality, same power level. Its worse because Kazui is a liar. He constantly goes behind his parents' backs. He can summon creepy fish and creepy eyeballs and open portals like is ANYONE aware of this? How has SS not kidnapped Ichigo's son and experimented on him / locked away his powers yet? All substitute shinigami require a reiatsu controlling / spy badge to keep them in line. Where is Kazui's? Or is he just a weird fullbringer?

I was worried Kubo was gonna try and pull a knock off Boruto but luckily he kept the focus on Ichigo and the others. But that being said, Ichika and Kazui are now just... sort of there? Kazui was kinda just.... having his own adventure that doesn't matter to the plot at hand, and Ichika had some nice characterization at first but she just hid behind her dad the whole time.

I have a feeling Kazui is gonna step in at the last minute or do some major behind the scenes thing that indirectly interferes with the main plot so no one will realize how powerful and dangerous he actually is. Its sad because Ichika is the superior character in personality and likability, but she clearly is not going to have a bigger part in this.

Ichigo having a normal life after everything still feels extremely boring and uncomfortable to me. Everyone's like 'I'm still bLEACH!" but.... BLEACH just... doesn't feel like BLEACH anymore. It hasn't for a while now.

~~~

There's two new shinigami characters. Didn't care for the girl, but the Sign Language kid who talks to animals is adorable ... however... he just reminds me of Chad, and I just... it hurts knowing Chad has essentially been deleted. Chad and Orihime are officially benched. They have chosen the human world, and Orihime has given Ichigo his spawn so she has no more use/purpose to him anymore... ////sigh

~~~

Also. This is claimed to be a new "arc". So is the BLEACH manga coming back? What is happening. I thought Kubo was tired and didn't want to do BLEACH anymore. I thought Shounen Jump cut him off. People made so many excuses for Kubo and why the past two arcs have been so badly written the past 6 years and now almost everything they've attempted to defend him with has been revoked.

BLEACH is going to continue to screw up its plot lines and characters, so Its probably best for it to stay dead but I've seen a lot of Kubo stans drooling over this content, they're desperate for BLEACH's return, but its already given out all its possible revelations. There's really nothing else to top here. It's just going to make things up as it goes along ,and I'm not really here for half-assed writing like that, especially since the damage of rushing the previous manga has already been done. Kubo and Shounen Jump are riding off a money nostalgia. None of this was planned.

Honestly though.... overall feeling of this chapter, not as bad as it could have been.

Syazel stole the spotlight, and he's my friend's favorite character, so that's all that really matters.

[stepfamilyabuseingodsname]

My whipping today

I should start with some background; I was staying over at my uncle's house with my cousin Bella (no real reason, just because). At the time things between my uncle and my cousin were a little tense, Bella has been known to be a troublemaker but especially around the time this happened she was getting into more trouble than usual. And I didn’t have a problem with it, Bella is my best friend but he’s her dad and I understand he’s in charge of keeping her in line at all. The thing was that it made him a little short with me and that annoyed me a little bit so I was a little short with him.

When I got up and had some breakfast my uncle was a little annoyed with my attitude and even gave me a swat over my pajama bottoms warning me not to act up anymore. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but my point is I was kinda on thin ice with my uncle. I guess thinner than I realized. Anyway I didn’t have to work until noon so I decided to go to the gym first.

When I got back I took a shower but I took a little too long. Before long my uncle barged in, turned the water off, and gave my butt a slap. I of course was a little shocked and tried to turn around and cover up. I had shampoo in my hair and was not ready to come out and go to work yet so after a quick lecture he made me turn around and gave me another spank. He told me to finish up ASAP and meet him in his room after I was done. I was pretty sure that meant he was going to spank me but I wasn’t sure until I got out and realized he took all my clothes.

At least I was able to dry off (wet butt spankings are the worst!) before putting on my hand bra/panties and making that awful long walk to my uncle's bed room. (I thought about wearing the towel down to his room but it was pretty obvious it was going to come off anyway.)

“Young lady that was the last straw” he said as I walked in his door

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you”

“Please uncle I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing and I have to go to work can we please skip the spanking. I’ll behave better I promise!”

His response was predictable.

SMACK

He grabbed me by the hips and turned me sideways to slap my butt.

“Okay, let’s try to make this quick without letting you go too easy. Over my knee” he said as he sat down on his bed and pointed to his lap.

I laid over his lap and he started spanking me. Even with just his hand, my uncle gives notoriously hard spankings and this was no exception, considering all I really did wrong was take too long in the shower.

He spanked me really hard and totally steady, slapping the exact say part of my sitspot. One cheek and then the next. By the time the spanking was done I basically had two hand prints on my butt (I kid you not, I could literally see the thumb mark separate from the rest of the hand print). Usually I would get a periodic break where my spanker stops to rub and lecture or ask if I’m learning or whatever, but not this time. Obviously, it wasn't long before I had problems holding still. Pretty soon I was wiggling, then I was kicking, then I tried covering up my backside.

Eventually I found myself held down and that’s about when my uncle stopped to look at his watch and said:

“Okay, I know you need to go to work so 5 more good spanks and I’ll let you go”

SMACK!!

SMACK!!

SMACK!!

SMACK!!

SMACK!!

SMACK!!

(I’m certain he gave me 6 and I’m still salty about it)

“Okay young lady, up you get”

And with that I got off his lap and immediately went into a very embarrassing, butt naked, “spanky dance”.

My uncle gave a very quick lecture about behaving and following instructions and blah blah blah he doesn’t like to do this blah blah blah...then gave me one more slap and told me to get ready for work.

It wasn’t the worst spanking but this wasn’t exactly how I wanted to start my day before work. I only had like 15 minutes to get dressed and eat something before I had to be out the door. Which didn’t leave much time to collect myself or nurse my butt or anything. So I scrambled to get out the door on time, which I was able to do but not without forgetting my mask so I had to circle back which made me late.

When I showed up, I was maybe 10 min. Late, and my boss was giving me crap but all I could focus on was that my butt still hurt lol

Anyway, I never had a chance to get some lotion on my butt so I took my lunch break early and headed over to a CVS near my job to get some lotion. When I got back I applied some to my backside in the bathroom and it did not work as intended! OMG I don’t know what was wrong with it, it was just normal lotion but it felt like I rubbed poison ivy all over my already spanked butt.

It was probably the first time in my life I did a full spanky dance without immediately receiving a spanking.prior. So yeah...one of those days.

But the day didn’t end there…

Once I got out of work, it was about 8:30 and I had to go back to my cousin’s house. When I showed up I wasn’t expecting my uncle to be there and only Bella’s car was in the driveway so I thought it was safe to assume my uncle wasn’t home, right?

So I walk in the door, only expecting Bella to be there and don’t forget I was having a bad day. I just want to remind you of that before you read the next part.

I walk up to the stairs and yell:

“Bella, do you have any lotion? You’re asshole dad spanked the shit out of me this morning”

...no reply.

I walk up stairs to find Bella’s room very much empty. I was a little confused until I turned around to see my uncle standing in the hallway with his arms crossed with a very stern look on his face. My heart just sank and my confusion turned to fear.

“Uncle Jack? I didn’t expect you to be home”

SMACK

Again, his response was predictable, a smack on my butt.

“I can only hope you didn’t”

For what felt like an eternity but was probably only a couple of seconds I just looked at him and he looked back at me. I think he was deciding how he wanted to handle it..

“Young lady, I’m not going to stand here and give you a long lecture. You already know what you did wrong. What’s going to happen is I’m going to take you downstairs, you’re going to take off your pants, you’re going to lay over my lap, and then you’re going to get a very hard spanking. Hopefully when it's all over you will have learned your lesson.”

SMACK

He immediately followed up with a smack on my butt before grabbing me by the elbow and pulling me downstairs.

“Yes sir” I reluctantly agreed and followed him downstairs into the living room.

“Okay young lady. Pants down. Get in my lap. I’m not going to allow you to behave this way.”

I took down my pants, but thinking I might get lucky I didn’t pull down my panties. Much to my surprise, my uncle left them on as I went over his knee.

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK

My butt was still a little sore and the spanks hurt so bad, I just wasn’t able to hold still and started kicking and wiggling almost immediately.

“Hold still” my uncle demanded as he embarrassingly grabbed me by the butt to pull me back in position and pushed my shoulders down before continuing the spanking. But now he started pulling my panties up my butt leaving my cheeks exposed.

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK

“Up you get young lady” My uncle finally said.

I got up and he swiftly pulled my panties down. But foolishly, I pulled them back up.

“Please no, not on the bare. It’s so embarrassing please it hurts so much already”

He didn’t hear a word of it. He just pulled them back down, then put me back over his knee, and pulled my pants and panties clean off my legs.

:”You’re going to regret that” he said calmly

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK

It wasn’t long after that before my uncle let me off his lap for a second time. Only this time I was instructed to get the spoon.

I walked as slowly as possible into the kitchen rubbing my butt and crying all the way there.

Once I got back my uncle made me “ask” him to please give me a spanking with the spoon (as if it weren’t embarrassing enough already).

“Uncle jack, will you please spank me with the spoon”

“Yes I will, now get back over my lap” he said as he put his hand on my butt and pushed me over his leg while grabbing the spoon with the other.

This time he must have known I was not going to be able to cooperate very well over the knee so he bent me over one of his legs and preemptively used the other to hold me down.

Now that I was pretty much totally restrained he started smacking me with the spoon.

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK

Finally, my uncle set the spoon on my lower back and rested his hand over my butt.

“I hope you’re learning your lesson young lady”

“Yes sir I am”

“Good, I sure hope so but he aren’t done yet”

SMACK

“Up you get, go fetch the paddle”

“No please, not the paddle! I learned my lesson! I promise!” I begged but didn’t get off of his lap

SMACK SMACK SMACK

Of course it was useless. If my uncle told me to get the paddle, I was going to get a paddling.

As with the spoon, I waddled as slowly as I could to get the paddle, rubbing my butt all the way to my uncle's room where he kept the paddle and back.

Even though neither the spoon spanking or the hand spanking took too long, I’m sure you can understand how it was getting real old, and real embarrassing, going back and forth over my uncle's knee and fetching implements.

“Alright young lady, I’ll take that. You stand right there and bend over with your hands locked behind your knees”

“Please don’t spank me too hard” I said as I handed him the paddle and bent over like he told me to.

“Count them” he said, tapping my butt with the paddle.

SMACK

“OUCH! One sir” I said as I immediately jumped up and rubbed my backside. He wasn’t spanking as hard as he usually did with the paddle but given how much my butt had been smacked that day, it was hard to hold still.

“Back in position” my uncle said as he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back down until I was bent over.

SMACK

“OUCH! Two sir”

SMACK

“OUCH! Three sir”

...

SMACK

“OUCH!”

And I finally couldn’t take it anymore so I broke position and started rubbing my butt. My uncle responded by again grabbing my shoulders but this time pulling me back to the chair and back over his knee.

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK

“Young lady, you are going to do as you are told!” he said before letting me back up.

“If you’re not going to stay in position, I want you to keep your hand on your knees, your knee slightly bent, and keep that butt out” he said tapping my butt with the paddle before I was even in position.

Now that I knew he was totally serious I stayed in position for the rest of the swats. Like I said, they weren’t full strength swings, but it was more than enough to keep me in tears.

With my back arched and butt sticking out, it was a pretty embarrassing position and I had to stay like that for the rest of the spanking. Periodically my uncle would slow down and use his hand to spank me, asking if I was learning my lesson or give me some kind of banal lecture.

He didn’t make me count them after that but there was a lot and it felt like forever! Finally he told me to stand up straight and put my hands on my head.

“We’re almost done here young lady” he said

‘You used some pretty gross language earlier, that and your attitude lately is why you’re here getting such a hard spanking isn’t that right?”

“Yes sir”

“And what happens when you use language you’re not supposed to?

“I get my mouth soaped”

“That’s right, now let's get your mouth and that butt in that bathroom to finish up your punishment” he said as he gave me a sorta light smack on my behind.

“Keep moving young lady”

SMACK

I tried walking nice and slowly to the bathroom but was sped up by the occasional hard smack on my butt.

“Okay young lady, you can use your hands to cover up your front if you’d like. But keep your hands away from your bottom. You’ve still got some spanks coming.” He said once we reached the bathroom.

“Yes Sir”

Once we made it to the bathroom I got the usual uninteresting treatment. I had to stand in front of the mirror while my uncle wetted up the soap, stuck it in and out of my mouth, smacked my still naked butt, and lectured me. Finally he told me he thought I learned my lesson and gave me permission to wash my mouth out. Then he gave me a big hug.

“You know I don’t like spanking you like this” he said

“I know you don’t, I’m sorry” was my reply.

Then came the awkward part (because nothing up to this point was the least bit awkward). My uncle said something to the effect of

“That bottom is awfully red and sore. Now that your punishment is over so I can be a little nicer, how about I put some lotion on them” he said, putting his arm on my shoulder and guiding me outside the bathroom and back into the living room.

Now my uncle has seen and spanked my bare bottom more times than I count, not to mention I had just finished up my second bare bottom spanking of the day with him, so I guess I could only be so embarrassed by him rubbing some lotion over my bottom. That being said, I found it pretty humiliating.

It’s not like he hasn’t done it before, or even that I would say no if he asked if I wanted him to. It was just that every other time I’ve had someone rub my butt with lotion after a spanking, I’ve either asked them to do it or at least they asked me if I wanted them to first. I honestly don’t think he was trying to make it awkward or anything, I think he was trying to be nice actually, just felt pretty awkward.

Anyway he grabbed some lotion from the bathroom and we walked back down into the living room. He sat down in the same chair that he was spanking me in earlier. Not going to lie, even though I knew he wasn’t going to spank me, it was a little scary going back over his lap in the same exact position.

“Wow that is one very hot bottom” he said as he cupped his hand around my butt.

“I’d have to spank bella awfully hard before her butt got got this hot” I didn’t really know what to say, I felt a mix of mildly annoyed and embarrassed over the comments on the temperature of my bottom.

“Yeah, you spanked me really hard. It hurts a ton.” I wasn't trying to make him feel bad but I just didn’t know how to respond.

“Sorry, I hope this isn’t too embarrassing for you. I know you’re a grown woman now.” Felt a little stange for him to say that with my literally half naked over his lap, with my butt in his hand.

“No, it's okay” I said, totally lying through my teeth.

It was about then that he started rubbing the lotion. And I’m not going to lie, it was very reliving. Not like I was feeling great or anything, butt my backside was hurting pretty bad and the lotion did make it fell a lot better

We had some light, sorta awkward, conversation while I was over his knee and I was starting to feel very relaxed. Finally he asked if I felt better now and I said yes. Then he gave me a spank that I was not at all expecting and told me I could get up. It wasn’t a super hard spank but it shocked me and almost ruined the whole point of putting lotion on my butt.

Anyway, that’s pretty much what happened, Not my best day, but at least I learned something so hopefully I don’t get too many more spankings like that

[shysneeze]

persuasion (part three)

George Weasley x  Malfoy!Reader

Description: a quidditch match at the burrow has the reader and george flung together again and more of the past creeping up 

Warnings: it’s 2 am, i’m not convinced ik what this is but i think it’s angsty again, i swear again most likely, lmk if i missed something pls 

authors note: I... don’t even know if this is coherent english 

tag list: @andineversawyoucoming @theweirdsideofstuff @the-grey-lady13 @peanutem @paigeyisme @wolfiepirate @sir-lili

(pls let me know if u don’t wanna be tagged anymore ik it’s awkward but id hate to think i was annoying you so i don’t mind :))

series masterlist

(Y/N) can hardly tell if she’s shaking from the cold or her nerves when she arrives in the grassy meadows of the infamous Burrow. Although the sun sits high in the cloudless March sky, the bitter chill of winter lingers and nips at her bare fingers and she grinds her teeth to stop them chittering, suddenly regretting her decision to leave her scarf at home, though glad for the flask of coffee in her tote bag.

The apparation point she’s arrived at is a bit of a distance from where Fleur explained the match is to take place, although from here, (Y/N) can see the lopsided silhouette of the childhood home George so perfectly describe to her during nights spent curled together in the astronomy tower. She can hear the faint rumble of laughter and chatter ahead and begins to worry she may be very late, picking up her pace as she trudges up the gravelly path.

It’s not until at the brow of a small hill, (Y/N) can make out what is to be the makeshift pitch for today’s match, a flat grassy field parked outside the topsy-turvy looking building she can recognise from just the stories. She remembers being guiltily envious of George’s family back then, the way he described it as loud, but cheerful, and basically everything the Manor was not.

(Y/N) is startled by how quickly that feeling has resituated itself in the pit of her stomach at the sight of the red-headed family and their friends on the field. She can no longer hide her nerves, an anxious feeling unfurling in her chest as she gets closer. She forces herself to keep on track, reminding herself that she’s here for Fleur, not to punish herself like her subconscious has suddenly decided.

“(Y/N)!”

Fleur’s voice carries from the end of the path to where (Y/N) has temporarily frozen to calm herself. Her friend’s excitement has a smile inching itself up (Y/N)’s cheeks and her feet moving again until Fleur is flinging her arms around her.

“You came!” She gushes.

“I RSVP’d.” (Y/N) reminds, smile wavering at her friend’s doubt in her. “So here I am.”

“Well it’s so good to see you.” Fleur grins. “I was just wondering when you’d arrive.”

“Am I late?” (Y/N) grimaces.

“No!” Fleur assures quickly. “No, we’re still setting up.”

“Oh.” She sighs in relief. “Can I help?”

Fleur lets out a light laugh as she loops an arm through (Y/N)’s and begins to walk them towards the others. (Y/N) can’t figure out what it is about her question that’s so funny until they’re stood behind a plump red-headed woman, hand on her hip as she gives out orders to her various children.

“You’re supposed to be getting rid of the last of the gnomes!” She chides. “Oh, Hermione dear, not you, it’s okay.”

“Not a chance Molly will let you help.” Fleur whispers, an amused edge to her voice. “Hermione’s not been a guest in years and she’s still exempt.”

“Ron, I told you to help your brother get the brooms- it’s like herding Nifflers with their eyes on someone else’s watch!”

Fleur chuckles softly at her mother-in-law before taking a step away from (Y/N)’s side and tapping the older woman’s shoulder gently as her friend’s eyes widen in panic, longing to reach out for Fleur and pull her back. She needs at least a five-minute inner pep-talk before she’ll be prepared to meet the Weasley’s mother.

It’s too late though, the lady of the house is already turning with a startled jump to face her daughter-in-law, questioning look in her eyes. Fleur nods toward (Y/N), who can only hope her face doesn’t display the sheer distraught she’s feeling inside.

“This is the friend I was telling you I was inviting.” Fleur informs. “(Y/N) Malfoy.”

(Y/N) does a bad job at hiding how she flinches at her own surname, a habit she’s had since she was old enough to realise how other people viewed her family. She gulps at the lingering confusion on Mrs Weasley’s face before the woman is plastering on a kind-hearted smile and stretching her hand out.

“Lovely to meet you, (Y/N).” She says. “Molly Weasley.”

(Y/N) scrambles to wipe the nervous perspiration from her palms embarrassingly before reaching out for the older woman’s hand and shaking it. A glint of amusement, one that mimics the twin’s in a way, flashes in the older woman’s eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Weasley.” (Y/N) says. “Thank you for having me.”

“Of course.” Mrs Weasley waves her hand dismissively. “A friend of Fleurs- and Fred’s, is a friend of the family.”

“T-thank you.” (Y/N) stutters. “I didn’t know what sort of food to bring but uh, I brought coffee.”

Embarrassment finds (Y/N) quickly, flustered by this woman’s kindness, that seems to ignore all the horrible thing (Y/N)’s family did to hers. No one warned her growing up how much guilt her surname carried, especially when the rest of her family wore it like a badge of honour right until the war. It’s worse right now though, stood in front of George’s mother, feeling as though she’s lying by omission.

“You needn’t have brought a thing.” Mrs Weasley smile kindly. “But thank you nonetheless.”

“Can I help set up at all?” (Y/N) tries, making Fleur smirk.

“Goodness, no.” Mrs Weasley laughs. “You’re a guest. No, just you find yourself a seat, my dear.”

There is no time for protest on (Y/N)’s part as Mrs Weasley is already shouting at Fred and Ginny for bickering on the pitch, exclaiming ‘you’re not even in the air yet!’. Fleur gives (Y/N) a smug look before nodding the pair onwards.

After a moment, they begin to discuss the teams. (Y/N) can only agree that it all seems rather unfair, observing that half the Gryffindor team are here, a mixture of the Weasley’s and their friends, not to mention Ginny’s professional status.. They’re laughing together at this when (Y/N) collides with a red-headed man, drawing several expletives from his lips and then a hasty apology.

“Oh shit, sorry I didn’t see you…”

George trails off, eyes meeting his unfortunate victim’s as she rubs at the spot where the broom sticks he was carrying had smacked her on the head. She drops her eyes to the ground upon recognition of his identity and mutters out a quiet apology and assures him he’s fine. Her heart is racing, much like last time they’d met eyes at the Leaky. He frowns having not expected her at all today, taken off guard, again.

“I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I RSVP’d.” She repeats with a sigh. “Oh, you didn’t know that.”

“No.” He admits.

“I invited her.” Fleur assures. “I told Fred.”

“That explains it.” George sighs loudly. “Stupid git.”

“Well, we’re going to get seats.” Fleur announces. “Try not to knock her over on your way past.”

“I wasn’t paying attention.” (Y/N) mumbles. “My fault.”

She looks up shyly and meets his brown eyes again, gulping at the intensity of the look her gives her. She thinks for a moment he’s never going to look away when a voice from the pitch snaps his attention away and she feels like she’s free to breathe again.

“C’mon, George.” A woman she recognises as Angelina Johnson, calls. “We need those brooms to play!”

George gives both Fleur and (Y/N) a sort of apologetic look before shouldering the boom sticks again and jogging towards the pitch where the rest of the players wait impatiently for him. Fleur watches as (Y/N) stares wide eyed at the ground, trying to still her panicked heart. She gently touches her friend’s arm and tilts her head in concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” (Y/N) exhales. “Sorry, it won’t even bruise.”

Fleur purses her lips and holds back from explaining that’s not what she was asking about. (Y/N) gives her a clearly forced smile then begins to walk again.

When they finally take a seat on one of the many picnic blankets by the other spectators, (Y/N) pulls out her flask of coffee from her tote bag and hands Fleur a cup cheerfully, as if it’ll distract from the interaction she’s just witnessed. From  the pitch, Fred is waving at them, beaming happily.

“You came!” He hollers.

“I RSVP’d!” (Y/N) calls back, barely hiding her frustration.

He lets out a laugh at her reaction, his body shakes with it and his eyes crinkle like George’s do, head tilted backwards as he chuckles. It rids her of her upset at being doubted, bringing a smile to her lips. She can note now, no longer preoccupied by trying to fight off a mental breakdown in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron, that she likes seeing him healthy

She remembers when she found him during the battle, laying almost lifeless on the ground, she wasn’t sure he’d ever be healthy again, even after she’d used all the healing spells she could think of. Hearing he’d recovered after the war was one of the first time’s she’d felt anything other than numb since Harry’s victory.

“Where’s your kit?” He calls.

“I don’t play.” She returns defensively.

“What?” He asks. “Too scared we’ll beat you?”

“Sure.” 

“Aw c’mon.” He tries. “We’ve got a spare broom.”

“Leave it, Fred.” George says, eyes lifting to find (Y/N)’s before jumping away again. “She’s scared of heights.”

(Y/N) looks away with what she hopes comes across as embarrassment, although her mind is already whirring with the fact he remembers. She finds herself swiftly falling down what she knows will be a self-destructive path and wondering what of her other quirks and habits he remembers, if he remembers how she takes her tea, or if he thinks of her when her favourite song plays. It has her feeling terrible in thirty seconds, a split second of hope killed in an instant by her own guilt.

Fred gives her an apologetic look and she shakes her head in assurance that it’s okay. He turns back to the rest of his team and leaves only Fleur staring at (Y/N) with a curious frown. (Y/N) offers her a shrug and sheepish smile that her friend sees straight through.

“I didn’t know you were scared of heights.” She frowns.

“Oh, well it’s my secret silly fear.”

“Hmm.” Fleur hums.

Fleur opens her mouth as if looking for what to say next as (Y/N) sips at her coffee and avoids eye contact, as if that will in anyway make her friend less suspicious. Fleur seems to give in though, lips shutting in what looks like defeat. (Y/N) Is glad when people begin to mount their brooms, a welcome distraction for both the women.

It takes a bit for the game to get into full swing but when it does, (Y/N) finds herself transported back to Hogwarts, sat in the Slytherin stands pretending she cares what her house’s team does, spending the entire game watching George as he flies. She watches him now, still as impressed as she always was, yet still as anxious.

“You nearly fell sixty feet.” (Y/N) hissed, pacing the boys changing rooms long after everyone else was gone. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m fine.” He rolled his eyes.

“You could have died!”

“I didn’t though.” He grinned proudly. “Were you worried about me, Love?”

She fixed him a harsh glare at his teasing, but her face softened when he reached for her, fingers fumbling for her hand and pulling her in until she landed on his lap. He pushed some hair from her face and gave her a genuine smile.

“You’re very cute all worried like that.” He exhaled. “I might nearly die more often.”

“Don’t you dare.” She warned but cupped his cheeks in her hands. “Never again.”

She leaned in and kissed the forming bruise just above his left eyebrow, the cut on the bridge of his nose and then, just in case, the mark on his jaw that she couldn’t decipher as a bruise or just some dirt. He smiled lazily at her before tilting his head in order to connect their lips in a kiss.

“I’ll try not to worry you again.”

He had, she recalls, continued to worry her almost every match. However, now she feels like she doesn’t have the same right to be worried, yet she still finds herself clutching her cup tighter every time he does a flip or when he seems like he might miss the bludger. She finds herself letting out a breath of relief when the game is called a while later.

“That was a good game.” She speaks up.

“Even with the tie.” Fleur agrees.

“It was to be expected with such a high skill set on each team.” (Y/N) shrugs.

“I’m just glad Bill is finally on the ground again.” Fleur laughs softly. “It’s like I’m holding my breath the entire time- it’s silly.”

“No, it’s not.” (Y/N) assures kindly. “Quidditch is dangerous- probably more so with your siblings.”

Fleur gives her a grateful smile before turning back to the pitch, where Lee is being grilled for his referee skills, making (Y/N) chuckle to herself. Her eyes catch George, grinning with his family and friends. Fleur follows her gaze and nods.

“You see it too?”

“What?”

“Angelina and George.” Fleur explains. “We always thought Fred but recently…”

(Y/N) hadn’t noticed in fact, she was more entranced by his  lovable lopsided grin, but now her eyes find him again and she does see it. Initially she’s more perplexed by it than anything else because Fleur is right, it was always Fred. Now though, Angelina is leaning in to George, grinning up at him and laughing dramatically at his jokes and (Y/N) despises how it makes her feel, because she left him and he has the right to move on. However, her guts are churning with jealousy and she hates it.

“Yeah.” Fleur laughs at her expression. “Confusing, huh?”

“Hmm.” She nods.

“There are few bets on it.” Fleur informs. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“I won’t weigh in.” (Y/N) manages a chuckle. “Definitely not my place.”

It becomes quickly noticeable from that point onwards and (Y/N) almost wishes Fleur had never pointed it out. As the day moves on and they all sit haphazardly spread out across the various picnic blankets, (Y/N) does find it slightly easier to distract herself though, her eyes rarely making their usual trip to George a few feet in front of her, though every so often she can feel his eyes on her. However, she finds herself somewhat relaxed as she chats with Fred and Bill.

“I’m impressed you came after seeing this idiot drunk.” Bill jokes from Fleurs side. “It’s not pretty.”

“Ouch.” Fred gasps.

“I have a feeling the morning after was uglier.” (Y/N) smirks.

“You have no idea.” Fred agrees. “George was no help either- wouldn’t bloody shut up.”  

Fred’s eyes meet (Y/N) with this, a hint at what George wouldn’t shut up about perhaps, or even who. (Y/N)’s panicked is stilled when she realises his eyes don’t hold any malice or anger, though she’s not sure why not. It’s almost understanding, the look he gives her. Despite her resolve not to, she finds herself peering over at the boy in question.

She’s caught though, his eyes filtering away from his conversation to meet hers and she inhales sharply. Something in her reaction this time has him smirking, shaking his head as he turns back to the heated debate on the best type of broom with Angelina and Ginny. It’s mortifying to (Y/N), like he’s seen her panic and knows he’s done it, what’s worse is she knows she deserves it.

She misses the time that smirk would find her across the classroom, knowing and infuriating, and almost always the gateway to a quick snog in a hidden corridor, or at dinner, across the sea of other students and only for her, swiftly followed by a wink. She hates that that smirk suddenly has guilt swirling in her stomach instead of butterflies.

“Are you okay?” Fleur whispers.

“Yep.” She assures with a faked smile. “Great.”

…

It’s when her watch reads four o’clock that (Y/N) finds herself excusing herself and flung into a seemingly endless chain for farewells. She’s again amazed by how accepting everyone is of her presence, all calling for her to join them again soon. It’s after a hug and a muttered ‘thank you’ from Fleur that she stands to leave.

She’s jittery with a sort of pride as she leaves With a few hiccups, she’s still happy to have managed to hold conversations and to relax. She doesn’t feel so compelled to cry as she had at the Leaky certainly not until she gets home. Certainly not until George’s voice is suddenly halting her in her tracks.

“Malfoy.”

That about does it though, her surname said with that animosity. She doesn’t want to turn around from fear of her distraught showing on her face. She’s only a few meters from apparating, so close that a few steps would do it. However, slowly, she turns to face him.

“Am I supposed to just call you Weasley now?”

She winces the moment it leaves her lips and lets out a quick apology. She’s no idea where it came from. He has an eerily unreadable expression, instead just passing her the tote bag she apparently left behind. She takes it shyly, eyes casting down to her feet as she thanks him. He shrugs at her, already turning on his heels. She stands still for a moment then finds herself tempted again by a part of her she has no right to have.

“George?”

He stills but doesn’t turn around and she smiles at his stubbornness, so familiar to her.

“You described it all perfectly you know.” She explains, voice soft in the quiet of the meadows, the house, and the others far behind them. “Your house and your family… I know why you love them so much.”

She doesn’t give him time to answer, already taking those few steps and apparating with a crack before he can even turn around again. He breathes out a disbelieving chuckle and shakes his head as he retreats towards the house. 

She’s always saying things he doesn’t expect and impressing him, and she knows how to make it bloody difficult to hate her.

[sprstories]

Scriptliss x Protagonist? (not the reader tho,, the character)

(Note: as you can see, this isn't a "x reader" thing, the protagonist and the reader (for me) are separate people, like the reader controlling protag, and in the ending he finally does his own choices, so please don't hate this). (2: i will stop putting the titles of every story oof).

The protagonist finally asks Scriptliss for a date, which he gladly accepts.

Protag threw everything out of his closet, trying to find something he liked. after all he would try to impress his bff n' crush.

He taked a deep breath, nervous and almost regretting everything. Cursed the moment he asked Scriptliss for a date.

He looked at himself in the mirror, and smiled. There was no going back, he wished with all his might not to fail as usual.

He took out his keys and opened the door, took one last look at his house and he filled himself with courage.

"I'm ready"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Protag looked up at the sky, sunny, radiant, beautiful, perfect for his date.

In a way, this moment reminded him of the first time he came to this place, sunny and radiant, as if nothing was happening, he met Aaron, the narrator (and who knows if he is narrating this now), He crossed on a boxdragon, and there for the first time he met..

— Protag, over there! —.

Scriptliss.

And then he saw him, meeting the demon, he looked beautiful, although the only difference was that he had a red pullover instead of his short shirt, and he also wore boots instead of leaving his feet bare with his pants, and speaking of pants, it was still the same.

But for him it would always be beautiful.

— Be careful of what you imagine, Protagonist. — something appeared behind him.

— Oh sh- Cogen! —.

Protag almost screamed, he didn't expect Cogen to be here.

— Sorry about Cogen, I had to bring him, or he will get into the personal lives of others. — Scriptliss grabbed Cogen, pulling him away from the gray boy. The floating diamond, still without a face, seemed somewhat insistent. — So.. where do we go, mister dating?

— O-oh, yeah. I was thinking of going for a walk, having a smoothie, watching the sunset... basic things. — protag laughed, nervously.

— hey, i like that last idea. Let's go. —.

the demon took the hand of the colorless one, causing him to finally have colors on his face, specifically red.

He felt like he was exploding inside, and Cogen probably reading his thoughts didn't help.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

— Don't worry Antagmom, i know how to take care of a child. —.

— No, you don't. — Scriptliss yelled, getting a bad look from dusekkar, then running away along with Protag.

— Why did you said that? — .

— Well, when i was a kid, Dusekkar took care of me for a while. Obviously everything went wrong, and now I have a scar on my back. —.

— I'm not going to ask what happened to you. —.

They both walked into an ice cream parlor, ready to order a milkshake rather than just ice cream.

— What flavors do you want, Protag? —.

— Difficult to choose. Maybe... just strawberry chocolate. —.

— Cool. Me too, please. — He smiled, confident of himself, but there was something that made Protag suspicious.

The worker just nodded, opening a refrigerator to get milk, and the chosen flavors.

Protagonist saw a poster out of the corner of his eye, apparently they also sold milkshakes with two straws. Scriptliss noticed that.

— Oh, hey, you want a milshake with two straws? Some Robloxians say that two people can drink the same shake, and that it is even bigger. Isn't that awesome? —.

— You didn't know? —.

Scriptliss stopped smiling, somewhat embarrassed.

— Well... being locked up for a long time makes me miss a lot of things. —.

The protagonist thought about it, and it was true. Scriptliss being locked up for so long he missed many things, all the experiences he lost... he will help him to regain everything.

— Well.. what if we... *gLUp* take the milkshake with two straws? — and then he got hit by Cogen. Absolute worthy.

— Really? thanks, thanks! — Protag now is blushing like a crazy, because Script just hugged him. — hey uh... sir? — Apparently he wanted to get the worker's attention, which worked. — We will take the milkshake with two straws.

For some reason, he was very happy about this. Although little did he know of the truth, that everything had been planned by Scriptliss.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

After drinking the milkshake and the protagonist almost had a heart attack because he was so close to Scriptliss, sunset finally arrived, and both lovebirds were heading to the closest hill in the new part of the city, with a spectacular view. Cliche and romantic in its own way.

They both sat, gazing at the beautiful view, the sun gradually setting to show its bright stars and a beautiful moon will show.

Again, the protagonist looked to the side, this time focusing on Scriptliss's hand that was a few meters from his. It was so tempting to entwine both hands.

But he had to take the first step if he wanted to have something with the demon.

He closed his eyes, and let himself be carried away. He brought his fingers to Script's hand, feeling the touch of the other that made him feel like an entire zoo was in his stomach.

Then he felt how the other's hand acted on its own, grasping and entwining both hands.Then, very shyly, he looked at his partner, who was smiling at him in a sweet and pleasant way.

Quite a contrast to the Scriptliss he saw the first time. The therapy was effective.

— U-uh, OH, sorry, i- i didn't mean to.. —.

— no, no, it's okay. — he smiled, again. The protagonist swallowed hard, he could feel the words climbing up his throat to come out and confess in one go.

But it was now or never.

— Hey, Script. I have something to tell you ... — Protagonist murmured, lightly squeezing the demon's hand. — I... I.. —.

— He has a crush on you. — F*ck you, Cogen.

— HA!? — Boom, protagonist died (only inside).

— ... it's not a surprise. —.

— WAH!? —.

— what? — Scriptliss giggled. — you're pretty obvious. —.

— bu... but.. you know it all the time? —.

— It took a while, even if everyone insisted that you liked me, I refused to believe them. —.

— but.. why? —.

— I find it hard to believe that someone amazing likes me. — Scriptliss giggled, again, making the colorless one feel weird. — Besides that I thought that everyone wanted to play with my feelings. —.

— Did they want to make you think that someone finally loved you because you think nobody loves you? motherf-.

— no silly, what i'm trying to say is that... i like you too, protag! —.

Protag just stared at him, then he finally talks.

— li-like.. you love me? —.

— Yeah. — Scriptliss blushed, playing with his fingers and looking down. — Really ... you started to interest me after everything that happened, you were always there when I needed a hand, you were there when I was crying for Tess's message, you accompanied me in all my therapies, and I never thought I would find someone as good as you. Someone finally made me feel so... secure about myself for a long time. Protag i.. are you crying?

— yeah... nobody ever told me those things. — he sobbed. — you're so good, a-and pretty, and a really good friend, but i hate being friends because i want to be something more than friends with you. —.

Scriptliss now was the only staring, speechless.

— So.. — Scriptliss recovered, putting his arm under the arm of the protagonist. — Do you want to be more than friends? maybe.. a couple? —.

— ...yeah, i really want to be with you, forever. —.

They both joined their foreheads, because they were both terribly shy to give the first kiss. Still, they were happy, especially the protagonist, to finally be able to confess his feelings (although Cogen has done it before) really relieved him a lot. Now he couldn't regret anything.

Let the moonlight witness the new love that blooms in the hills.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

extra: After leaving the hill, holding hands, they go for a walk, the first walk as a couple. On the way they met Antagon, Dusekkar and Lanter. The latter basically took them for some reason. In the middle of the drag, they both reveal their new relationship to Lanter and he congratulates them, then leaves to tell everyone. Everything went well.

[starshine583]

Le Paon Part 10

(Hello all! This is part 10, two weeks later, but I have to admit it’s slightly shorter than usual. The next chapter will be the same. I hope you enjoy reading nonetheless!)

Part 1 / Part 9 / Part 11

Allegra couldn’t help the ear-piercing squeal that escaped her lips as she stared at Marinette’s picture of Le Paon. Finally! After weeks of chasing that man’s tail around the city, they finally got a good- no, not just good, a great picture! This was incredible! She felt like bouncing around the room from pure joy, which she did, along with singing a happy little ‘victory tune’. It wasn’t appropriate for the school classroom, but dash it all if she cared what her teacher might think. They were on their routine break between classes anyway.

“I can’t believe you got this!” She exclaimed after a good few moments of staring at it. She wanted to memorize every detail. “I mean, how did you get it? The picture seems so close! It’s like he’s standing right next to you!”

Allegra was too excited to notice Marinette shifting uncomfortably next to her.

“W-Well, I was out on the balcony and.. and I saw him on one of the rooftops across the street. My phone just happened to have a good focusing feature.” The ravenette explained. 

Allegra’s features twisted into a scowl, though it wasn’t necessarily directed towards Marinette. “I wish I could get that lucky. You’d think after months of waiting, he might show up on my doorstep every-”

Her miniature rant was cut off by the vibration of Marinette’s phone. Someone had texted her, and from the pop-up notification at the top of the screen, it appeared to be.. Felix? Since when did he get her number? Since when did they text?

~My Father’s at home today, so you should be able to visit this afternoon after school hours. Does that work for you?~

Allegra squinted at the text. He was inviting her over to his house? 

“That’s scroundal.” She muttered. 

“What?”

Allegra snapped back to reality at Marinette’s voice. “Hm? Oh, nothing.”

She handed Marinette’s phone back, subtly checking the time as she did. It was important that no one- especially Felix -interrupt. “Do you like greenhouses?”

Marinette blinked. “Greenhouses?”

“Yeah! Claude and the rest of us are going to visit a greenhouse tomorrow, and I was wondering if you’d like to join us.” She requested, making sure to keep a light and sweet tone. Hopefully, Marinette wouldn’t remember the last time she asked her to go somewhere, not that the girl seemed to mind running into Felix so often.

Marinette hummed. “I think that should work. I don’t remember having anything else to do tomorrow besides school.”

Allegra clapped her hands together as the bell rang above them. “Wonderful! I’ll tell the boys.”

Marinette nodded and gave a quick goodbye as she left to go back to class. Conveniently, Felix walked in right after her exit.

“Felix!” Allegra nearly cooed. “How do you feel about greenhouses?”

Felix paused at his desk and rose a brow at her. “I’d say that I liked them until you asked that question.”

Allegra only smiled. “Why don’t you join us this fine Thursday on our trip to the greenhouse?”

Felix sat down, pulling his bag onto his lap to rummage through it. “As fun as that sounds, I’ll have to refuse.” 

She let out a long, wistful sigh as she sat down next to him. Claude wouldn’t mind sharing his seat with her for a minute. “What a shame. I’ll tell Marinette you couldn’t come then.”

Felix twitched next to her, and she felt her smile widen. Checkmate. 

Unfortunately, she had to go back to her seat after that, but Allegra still counted it as a success. Felix didn’t agree to go with them out loud, but somehow, she knew he would be there. 

~~~~~~

Marinette clutched her sketchbook to her chest as she stared up at the large, metal gates of the Agreste Mansion. Despite it being the middle of the day, she couldn’t help finding the sight a bit eerie. Normally, one would find gates like this outside an abandoned house on the outskirts of town, not in the middle of Paris as if it were as natural as a mailbox.

A compartment opened to her right, and Marinette jumped back with a slight squeal when a silver bulb shot out at her. Something red in the middle of the bulb seemed to shrink and expand a few times as it circled her. A camera, she realized. It had to be one of those built-in cameras that she’d heard about.

~Name?~

Marinette faltered at the sharp tone. “Ah, u-um..”

The camera inched closer, somehow appearing to glare at her. ~Name?~

She swallowed. “M-Marinette.”

A pause. 

~You are not on our schedule for-~

~Oh, cut it out, will you?~

Marinette blinked. Was that Felix?

~Apologies, Marinette. Our secretary’s not that bright.~

A click emitted from the metal gates, and they swung open, allowing her to enter. Marinette spared the camera one last glance as it retreated to its compartment in the wall before starting forward. 

Felix greeted her at the entrance. “Sorry about the camera. Father can get a bit carried away when it comes to security. ‘Overprotective’, if you will.”

Marinette gave a tight smile. This whole situation didn’t sit well with her. She didn’t remember the security being this overbearing last time she visited for her and Adrien’s history report. Paris had some criminal activity, yes, but surely cameras and two-story sized walls weren’t necessary. Who was M. Agreste trying to keep out?

Or keep in? She thought, her gaze flicking to Felix as he closed the front door behind them. He mentioned a few weeks ago the lengths that M. Agreste would go to keep them at home. Marinette can understand wanting to keep one’s children close, but this is a little.. excessive, especially considering the fact that she’s barely seen their father around the house as it is.

Felix showed her to his father’s office, and Marinette briefly noticed a woman sitting at a desk not too far away, the barest hint of a scowl adorning her lips as she typed away on her computer. That, Marinette assumed, must be the secretary that had talked to her over the camera earlier. 

Her attention was turned back to Felix when he pushed open the office door. It wasn’t until they were inside that Marinette realized she was holding her breath. This was M. Agreste, after all. He was known world wide for his fashion achievements, and his company was one to be coveted. Honestly, she could only ever dream of reaching his level of success, and here she was, about to meet him face to face for the first time. 

“Father, this is Marinette, the one I told you about.” Felix introduced. 

A slight blush brushed Marinette’s cheeks at the thought of Felix talking about her, but she tried to push the feeling aside. Right now, she needed to focus on making a good first impression. 

Gabriel’s gaze flicked to her briefly, but he kept his main focus on his screen. “Ah, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng. Of course.”

Marinette rose a brow. “Of course”? That’s it? She didn’t expect any sort of special treatment, but she liked to have some common courtesy. He could have at least put a light note into his tone instead of sounding as enthusiastic as a rock. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, M. Agreste.” She finally said, an equally cold tone of her own. Two could play at this game.

She caught Felix giving her a surprised look out of the corner of her eye, which was understandable. Marinette didn’t tend to hold a sharp tongue, but sometimes, exceptions needed to be made.

Gabriel looked up at her as well, and that’s when she stiffened. In hindsight, this was his mansion that she was standing in. If anyone had a right to practically ignore her, it would be him. Nevertheless, Marinette had already made her position clear, and she wasn’t going to back down now. 

Her shoulders straightened as M. Agreste’s hollow, grey eyes assessed her. “You’re from the Dupain-Cheng Bakery, correct?”

Marinette forced a neutral expression. How did he know that? She supposed her last name made it obvious, but still. “Y-Yes, sir.”

He nodded. “Your designs are impressive, albeit a bit rough. With guidance and practice, I’m sure you can inspire a new era of fashion. Have you anything else to show me?”

Marinette took a step forward, offering him her notebook. The tense silence that followed had her fidgeting with her hands as he flips through her designs. His expression didn’t even change while he studied the pages. What kind of robot of a man was he, anyway? Or were her designs just not good enough?

Finally, Gabriel nodded again and handed the notebook back to her. “Splendid. I appreciate the visit.” 

Something about his tone- or lack thereof- made her more irritated than pleased about the compliment. They’d barely said two words to each other. Was this his way of blowing her off? She simply couldn’t tell. 

Felix, obviously used to this behavior, nodded as well and lightly grabbed her arm for them to leave.

“Felix, next time you intend to bring someone new to my mansion, I’d prefer to look into it myself first.” Gabriel remarked as they reached the door.

“Of course, Father.” Felix said, opening the door for them to make a quiet exit. 

Marinette, however, didn’t move. She couldn’t. She was too bewildered to do anything other than stare at Gabriel with a quizzical expression. “Look into it myself first”? “My mansion”? She could explain away his need to look into visitors, controlling as that may be, but for him to act like he alone owned everything here was outrageous. Whether he bought the place himself or not, Felix and Adrien were his sons, and this was their home too. Let’s not even mention that she was not, in fact, “new to his mansion”.

Actually, no. Marinette thought. Let’s mention that.

She turned away from Felix, ignoring his panicked expression, and smiled a nice, sweet, sugary smile. “With all due respect, M. Agreste, I’ve visited this mansion before. Adrien and I worked on a history project together.”

Gabriel rose a brow. “What history project?”

Marinette barely held back a scoff, though her smile remained. “You didn’t know about your own son’s history project?”

Admittedly, her tone was harsher than she had meant it to be, but that didn’t mean she regretted what she said. Her parents knew her entire schedule, all of her interests, and they certainly knew about her visit to the Agreste’s to work on their group history project.

Gabriel, however, narrowed his eyes at the confrontation. “I have Nathalie and Gorilla to keep track of that for me.”

It took every ounce of self control she had not to snap at him right then.

“I don’t mean to argue,” She began calmly, “But is it really wise to hire someone to care for your own children?”

Gabriel shot her a full-fledged glare. “Felix and Adrien are my children. I am their father, and I will decide what’s best for them.”

Marinette huffed. She tried being polite, tried helping him see reason. The boys may not be her responsibility, but she wasn’t going to stand back and watch them be mistreated like this. “A father doesn’t lock his children up in a mansion and leave employees to care for them.”

“They have everything they need here!” He yelled.

“Except a loving parent who cares for them!” Marinette spat back. “The only way you haven’t abandoned them is by physically leaving. But you’re practically there by holding yourself up in your office all day.”

Gabriel scoffed. “You best mind your tone, Mademoiselle. I don’t have to explain myself to you nor anyone else. Now take your leave before my patience runs dry.”

Marinette’s fists clenched at her sides. How could someone be so stubborn and so arrogant? Why did this man even decide to have kids in the first place?

A light touch on her wrist brought her gaze back to Felix. He didn’t say anything, and his expression didn’t change, but she could see the pleading in his eyes. 

A sigh passed her lips, and she shot one last look at Gabriel before marching through the office doors. 

Another time. She promised herself as Felix trailed behind her. Another time.

~~~~~~

Felix quietly closed the office door behind him, not wanting to disturb Father any more than they already had.

"Well, that didn't go as planned." He muttered to himself. Inviting Marinette over was supposed to impress his Father, not twist his candy-cane tie into a knot. Though, in all honesty, Felix couldn't say he was disappointed. He'd never seen Marinette so utterly enraged before. That girl had turned to ice faster than he could blink, and Felix would be lying if he said he wasn't just a tad love-struck. For someone who usually stumbled over a simple "hello", her tonguelashing towards his Father could be considered quite a feat. Truly magnificent. 

Felix turned around to tell her this himself, but stopped short when he saw her. She was standing in front of him, a dazed look in her eyes as she clutched her shirt, almost like she was trying to hold her own heart. 

Cautiously, he stepped forward. “Marinette? Are you alright?” 

No response.

“Marinette?” He tried again, starting to get worried.

“I yelled at him.”

“Pardon?”

Finally, she looked at him, and he immediately wished that she hadn’t. Her beautiful blue eyes were hollow, haunted. It made his blood run cold. 

“I yelled at him.” She repeated. “I yelled at your Father. What was I thinking? What if he calls security? I’ll never be allowed to talk to you again. My fashion dream is probably ruined-”

“Woah, hey, hey-” Felix tried to sooth, taking her by the shoulders. (Gently, of course) “It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Father’s not going to call security.”

Marinette dug her hands through her hair. “But what if he does? What if I just got you into huge trouble? What if he pulls you and Adrien out of school?”

He pulled her hands out of her hair. “Can I hug you?”

“I- what?” 

“Can I hug you?” Felix said slowly.

She stared at him for a minute, a little confused, but nodded. 

Felix sighed and pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her back. “Just take a deep breath. I promise you that everything’s going to be okay.”

She buried her face into his shirt and sniffled, and he reached up to gently stroke her hair as he felt the wetness of her tears sink into his shoulders. 

“I actually wanted to thank you.” 

Her head jerked back a bit from shock. “Thank me? For what?”

“For sticking up for me and Adrien. Not many people have the courage to stand up to my Father like that, but I’m glad you did.”

Marinette sniffed again and wiped away a stray tear. “I’d do it again if you asked.”

Felix smiled, pulling her back into another hug. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but he did know one thing: he loved Marinette, and he would do everything he could to keep her from crying like this again.

Tag List:  @im-here-for-the-content @novicevoice @mewwitch@minightrose @frostymoon11 @multishipper1needshalp@unabashedbookworm @unholykrow @trubel43@kaydenth3gayden @stardustrevoutionx @legendaryneckjudgestudent @aurordraws @crazylittlemunchkin @uwuteamleader @chocolatecustarddanish @iambi-thilla-meena @corabeth11 @asainfrustration13  @chrismarium @agumon1123 @luciferge @yue-caelum @persephonebutkore @constancetruggle @fanficaddict4ever @johnlockfeelz @imfreakingmagical @tinybrie @procrastinatingrightnow @bee-wrecker @dontcallmecedge @shadowhex99 @daminette-is-life @thethirdwheelfriend @myazael @sizzling-fairy-oil @sparkle9510 @chaosace​ @the-navistar-carol​ @sannsibarr​ @grumpy-vixen-kitten​ @hauntedfreakdeputyhero​ @utcaro​ @more-or-less-human-i-guess @mlbutatbspofsalt

[finleyjayne]

Living a Lie: Chapter 1

Thank you for everyone who helped with this fic. Including the amazing @kittykatlow, the wonderful beta for this fic.

Summary: Penelope Grace Darling: the name you live by, the only name the world remembers. That doesn’t keep the memories of Y/N out of your head. All you ever wanted to do was create a better world. You thought you were doing that until some unexpected visitors to your hometown turn your world upside down. Can you leave your past behind you in order to keep your loved ones safe? Or will your fragmented memories keep you from the truth?

Pairings: Past Winter Soldier/Reader, Plus sized!Reader. Slow burn Bucky Barnes/ Reader.

Warnings: Dub/Noncon, Rape, Kidnapping, human trafficing (referenced), Underage Rape, Swearing, PTSD, Anxiety attacks, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Non consenting drug use, underage Drug use, Violence, Domestic Violence, I’m trying to remember what else comes later in the series.

This is a Dark Fic if you don’t like it Don’t Read It!

   Ten sets of feet all in nicely polished leather-soled shoes, all connected to well-tailored suit pants.

  Nine men sitting in chairs, all supposedly listening to the man standing on the other end of the table from where you sit curled up underneath.

   Eight bottles of alcohol sitting on the dark mahogany sideboard. Beautifully cut glass reflects the firelight and dim room lighting as if they are made of stars. Clear globes sat on top of their stoppers, looking like witchballs, reflecting the horror story that had become your life.

   Seven Matryoshka dolls, each colored with similar traditional faces, bellies painted with cityscapes and cathedrals sit on the mantle above the fire. Their faces mock the tense atmosphere with cheery smiles and laughing eyes.

   Six books are housed on the other end of the mantle—each written in the Russian script, Cyrillic. From what you can read on their spines, they are books of traditional fairytales, as if this wasn't the central office of the Bratva, the Russian Mafia.

   Five… five… looking around trying to find something that was five, you curl up a little tighter underneath the far end of the antique mahogany table. The panic rises in your body as your brain starts wandering from the little game of eye-spy to what had happened the night before. It was not the first time you had exchanged masters. You were a high commodity to these people. Young, talented, naive, strong enough to withstand what they wanted, and apparently unwanted. No! Stop! Back to the game, stay in the moment.

   Four. Four panels on the door.

  Just as you thought that, your eyes focusing on those panels, the men all stand up and make their way out of the ominously formal meeting. Leaving you in the room without a glance; you are seemingly unnoticed. You freeze in place to keep it that way. You glue your eyes to the wall with the mantel and fireplace.

  What am I going to do?

   The man that everyone keeps referring to as Krestniy Otets is pacing behind you in front of his throne. What if he’s like the others? Of course, he's like the others. The thought draws a small whimper from your throat. I have two options: let it happen and hope that he isn’t too sadistic; or fight and hope that he finds it fun. Either way, there isn’t anyone to save you. You know you have to find a way to protect yourself. You close your eyes, trying to come up with a plan as you listen to the man's solid footsteps. Who am I kidding? There is only one option. Make him WANT to take care of me. Play the perfect little pet. Innocent, think babydoll, lolita, submissive. Puppy dog eyes, tears, fear, hope. Keep hope they say that makes you seem like a little doll. What did Gammy use to say? Erwarten Sie das Schlim und seien Sie froh, dass es besser passiert. Expect the slumber and be glad it happens better? No… ummmm schlimmste not schlim, that’s it. Expect the worst, and be glad when better happens. That’s it-

    The steps stop suddenly, halting your thoughts in their tracks. your body tenses impossibly tight to keep yourself from flinching. No need to draw any more attention, he’ll remember me when he is finished with his business. A deep chuckle resounds from behind you, sending a shiver up your spine. Or you know right now.  

  “Посмотрите на это, такой милый маленький котенок я купил себе [Russian: Look at this, such a cute little kitten I bought myself.]” The man's voice is deep and robust as he speaks. His tone was pleased but held a note of sadistic teasing. “Little котенок, what are you still doing under there? I thought you would’ve moved to get more comfortable.”

   You tuck your head shyly into your shoulder as you look back at the grim-looking man with the biggest, sweetest doe eyes you can, “you said to sit and stay, sir.” Your voice trembles slightly as you whisper the words, It takes everything in you not to break down or vomit, but you manage.

   A dark, possessive look passes through his eyes as a self-satisfied smirk graces his lips. “Хороший котенок [good kitten], now come we have things to do.”

  Lithely, you roll to your feet, careful not to hit your head on the underside of the hardwood table, and follow him out the four-paneled door, your gaze following the bottoms of his black wingtips submissively as you walk further into the lions' den.

  With a gasp, you wake in your soft bed, eyes open but unseeing. Blinking in panic, you wait for your eyes to turn the colorful blobs into precise shapes. The fear strangling your lungs only grows until your hand hits a hard form on the bed next to your pillow, clutching them you hold them inches from your eyes, glasses. Your brain finally catches up slightly, you realize it was just a dream. Taking a deep breath, you slide the thick-lensed glasses onto your nose. Eyes finally focusing. Looking up to the eastern facing window to gauge the time from the slight light slipping through the barred basement window. Sighing at the slivers of light that tinge the sky a rusty red, 8 o'clock. You roll off the bed, standing on your good leg. A hiss escapes your lips as the other tenses with phantom pains. Pushing you to sit and take a second to look at the unfeeling flesh covering the mechanics underneath. After a few moments of movement and messaging the joints beneath the flesh, your brain finally links to the wiring, stopping all sensation from the limb.

   You take a few more moments, stretching out the tissues of both legs. Running through the diagnostics tests that have become as familiar as the back of your hands. It takes a few tries to get through the set without any glitches or pain spikes from the living tissues. After the twelfth run, you finally give up hobbling your way into the bathroom with a change of clothes, praying you won't be late for work.

   You take care to keep your eyes off your reflection, keeping your eyes on the waterstained wall before rushing to clean yourself under the rusting showerhead. The water barely has enough pressure to send the suds from your body wash down the drain. You keep yourself distant, running through your schedule as you rub the suds over the ripples in your skin. The slight pull of stiff scar tissue against the plushy fat was invisible to the eye but felt as though it were neon stripes painted on your flesh. Your eyes burn with unshed tears, the scalding hot water feeling ice cold.

   In a blink, the water is off, and your black, high-waisted skinny jeans and favorite pink peplum top are on--a calming compress to your suddenly overactive nerve endings. Finally looking into the mirror, you brush a hand over the flowing fabrics. Staring at your reflection's hair agitatedly, quickly doing what you can before letting the fading green and blue mass do what it will atop your round face. A quick brush of your teeth, and you are ready to head out the door.

   You count the twelve stairs that separate your calm dark haven from your family's chaotic life, immediately running into your frazzled-looking mom. She looks up to meet your eyes, greeting you with a robotically cheery smile that burns the backs of your eyes.

   “Good morning, Penelope Darling, are you working today?”

  “Yeah, Mom." you choke out, each happy word leaving a metallic taste in your mouth. "Then I’m going to my appointment, I was told I’ll be back around 9,” you respond quietly, grabbing a fresh peach and a knife from the counter before sitting in the office chair at the cluttered kitchen table.

   Making quick work of peeling and pitting the peach, you eat while letting your mind drift. It doesn't take you long before you slide on a pair of sandals, bending in half to do up the straps. You grab your bag off the floor next to them, tuck your phone into your pocket, and head to work.

   “Bye dear, remember to thank that nice doctor for helping you.”

“Yes’m,” you reply demurely, leaving with a sigh, letting the door into the garage swing itself closed behind you. Walking to your sun-spotted 1996 Mazda 626, you run your hand over her roof, savoring the burn of the hot metal against your skin as you pull the key from your purse and unlock her.

   “Heya Gertz, today is gonna be a hard day, but we can make it,” You tell her as you climb into her clean interior, turning the key and listening to her sad little purr. “Yeah, I hear you. Seems we both need an oil change.”

  Once at work, you check your phone for the time, ten minutes early, five minutes late, same difference. Anxiously, you hurry into the backdoor of the small shoe store that you work for. Flipping on the lights, you make your way to the register, clocking in as the bossman comes out of the back office.

   “Morning, you know you don’t have to be here for another 10 minutes." His cheerful teasing eases the tenseness that your brief interaction with your mother gave you. "I’m going to be outta the store for this morning. I’m leaving you in charge. Daisy should be here in a few minutes, but there is a lot of traffic heading into Salt Lake. Apparently, there is going to be a Stark conference at The U this weekend.”

   Your heart dropped at the thought of fighting traffic to get to your appointment. Subconsciously you let out a groan, “If that’s true, I’m going to need to leave a little earlier today. I can just close up if you leave your key, but I have an appointment that I can’t miss.”

   “Sure thing, Penny. I’ll be here before we close, so I’ll do it.” He sends you one of his easy smiles, melting away any of your insecurities.

   “Thanks, good luck today! Be careful.” You smile back.

   “Will do, call me if you need anything.” He says, walking out the back door.

  Breathing deep, you start your opening routine, turning on the radio connected to the PA system of the small, main street store. Breathing in the scent of leather, polish, and warmth, you plug in your phone, setting it to play a mix of all the songs you have liked over the year of Spotify that is Utah appropriate. Russian opera, Ballet arrangements, Vivaldi, Frank Sinatra, some pop stuff, Alt. Rock, Jazz. A playlist that is long enough to play music for literal days without repeating a song. Turning on the volume moderator feature and adjusting the stereo's volume until it settles into the background.

   As you pull the vacuum onto the main floor, your bustling, bubbly, blonde coworker bounds through the back entrance. She squeals when she sees you, giving you elevator eyes. “Penny! You look cute today. Do you have a date? Please tell me it’s with the guy who I gave you the number for. Did you hear about the Stark expo thingy? Apparently, Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers are coming here for it. Can you believe it? All those people are coming to UTAH of all places. And so close to us!? We could run into them at any time! Like seriously! There is even a chance that they will stop in Bountiful on their way to the DATC. We do have some of the best hiking in the area, after all. Just think, Pens, they are going to be here!”

   You chuckle softly when she stops for a second. “Breathe, Daiz,” you instruct, resting your hands on her forearms to get her to pause her rant. “Slow down. Don’t want you to hyperventilate again. One question at a time. I can only answer you if you give me a chance to.”

   The beautiful young woman bounces on the balls of her feet, heels tapping out a quick staccato against the ground while she takes a few deep breaths. After three, she loses patience and squeals out, “Pens, the Avengers are coming here! I can feel it in my insides! And you know my insides are never wrong!”

  “Daisy, you can’t just say that your insides have psychic powers. Especially when the last time you quoted something from them, you ended up breaking your arm in three places.”

   “Oh? Well, I trust my gut, and it says good things are coming.”

   You think as you open your mouth to give some sort of salty reply, but she cuts you off

   “Stop being such a grumpy pants. I know today is gonna be a great day!”

  “Whatever you say, Daisy. By the way, I have to head out early, Bruce should be in to cover the last hour with you.” You say going back to vacuuming the storefront.  

    “You know I’m right, Penelope!” She yells back at me, grabbing the Windex from under the counter to wash the mirrors.

  After a slow morning, Daisy goes out to get herself lunch. You perch behind the counter during a lull of customers on a petite but tall stool. Your foot rests on the seat where only half of your bottom fits, knee to chest, chin resting on your knee, looking uncomfortable, but enjoying the stretch across your lower back. Your eyes follow a plane cutting across the sky as you listen to the clock on the wall ticking patiently to your right. The speakers overhead switch from Led Zeppelin to a personal recording of a Russian Lullaby.

   The jingle of the door cuts through the peace. You turn my head smiling, “Welcome to Anderson’s Shoes, what can I help you find today?” you say, sitting up a little straighter as a pair of redheaded women and a disinterested man come into view of your seat. As they look your way, the man’s face perks up a bit. You unfold yourself from the stool, prancing around the counter. The women turn to you, smiling friendly.

   “We are window shopping and heard the music, then saw the cute golden sandals in the window,” said the shorter of the two redheads in a distinctly Slavic accent.

   Taking a shot in the dark, you smile, “Well, Pani, you must have good taste, both of the things you’ve just mentioned are favorites of mine.”

   At that, the Sokovian title the girls’ ears perk, and the shorter’s eyes take on a blithe quality, while the taller’s look unphased after the slightest twitch.

   “My name is Penny, would you like me to measure your feet before I go grab a couple of pairs for you to try on?” you say, gesturing to a set of comfortable looking chairs upholstered in an outdated green.

    “I’m Wanda, This is Natasha, and the doof standing over there with his mouth open is Clint, I am 37 European, I don’t know what that means American Sizing…”

   “No worries, Wanda,” you say with a small genuine smile, “your choice of shoe is a European brand, but for future references, a 37 usually translates to a 7 US unless you're getting a Louboutin, those tend to run a half-size short. But the best thing to do when buying shoes is to try them on. Would you also like to try on a pair as well, Natasha?”

   Natasha smirks and gives a small shake of her head. “Thank you, though.”

  With a polite nod, you slip into the stockroom, silently making your way through the creaky back halls of the store, picking up the desired gold sandals, as well as a pair of black stilettos in a nine. Guessing about the yet silent woman’s preferences, and unable to help but feel the need to grab them, feeling them calling to her.

   Coming out of the back with the two boxes, you find the girls laughing at Clint. His face is scrunched up in concentration as he tries to balance on the tiny stool. Before you can reach the front of the store, he has majestically teetered on the seat. He straightens a bit, throwing off his balance just enough to send him sprawling onto the hard floor. The girls' peals of laughter only grow as he scowls at them. He's rubbing his most likely bruised tailbone when you finally reach where they are sitting.

   Chuckling softly at the embarrassed expression he gives you, you offer a hand up to the grounded man, “Don’t take it too harshly if you were trying to sit like me, I doubt even Hawkeye could perch on that stool comfortably. If I’m honest, I’m not sure how I end up on it myself." Pulling him up swiftly, you turn to the girls. "I feel like you should try these shoes, Natasha. They were calling to you. And here are these for you, Wanda.” You say, handing the boxes with their respective shoes to the women as they burst into even louder laughter.

  After some more friendly banter, and happy sighs as the girls put on the shoes you handed them. Clint, seemingly determined to prove he is indeed as dextrous as a plus-sized girl from the 'burbs, starts trying to pose on the chair a different way every time you turn your back to him. Natasha, though still guarded, seems to have settled when Clint fell the first time, free with her lip twitches that were clearly her version of a smile.

   Watching them and spewing facts about the shoes to them as they walked around the store, the minutes tick by; 5, 10, 15. Curiously, nobody else makes their way into the store while they were there. Right as the girls made their way to the register with their original shoes in the new shoes’ boxes, Daisy walks back into the door and stops in her tracks, whatever exciting news she was going to undoubtedly tell me stuck inside her cheek.

   “Thank you, I really hope that you enjoy your new shoes. If you have any problems or need anything else, just let us know-” you start saying until Daisy cuts me off with what you can only describe as a blood-curdling scream, causing all four of you to jump and take up fighting positions.

  “PENELOPE GRACE DARLING! DO YOU KNOW WHO IS STANDING IN FRONT OF YOU OR DO I NEED TO KICK YOU?! IT’S THE SCARLET WITCH!” came a rush of semi-intelligent squeals from Daisy’s mouth.

   Looking genuinely confused as you try to place the name with the context, your eyes flipping between the four people who were now staring at you. Three highly amused with your confusion and one completely flabbergasted. “Daisy calm down a bit? I am apparently missing something here, and you yelling is definitely not helping me piece it together.”

   At this, Clint bends over himself, clutching his sides as his laughter rips through his chest. What a sexy laugh? Even though it’s at my expense. Nat smirks a little longer than her usual quick flashes. Wanda, ever the peacekeeper, extends her hand, “Hello, My name is Wanda, but I’m usually more recognized by my superhero name: The Scarlet Witch. These are my teammates and friends; Natasha, or The Black Widow; and Clint, also known as Hawkeye. It’s very nice to meet you, Penelope. We definitely appreciate the help with the shoes.” 

Chapter 2

If you want more Winter Soldier fics check out @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​. They have a great one called Breach.

Thank you all for reading. Tags are open for this fic, I am also curious to see what you all think. Share your truth with me.

People I think will enjoy reading this: @star-spangled-beard-burn @angrythingstarlight​ @tossacoin2yourwitcher​ @navybrat817​ @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @nekoannie-chan​ @donutloverxo​ @stargazingfangirl18 @nsfwsebbie​ @jtargaryen18 @buckys-broody-muffin​ @nacho-bucky​ @giorno-plays-piano​ @buckybarney​

[keoghans]

Chuck Grant’s NSFW Alphabet

I think tumblr tried to take this down bUT IMMA PUT IT UP AGAIN BC WHY THE FUCK NOT. 

Hope y’all enjoy my boi Grant’s flith alphabet :)))) 

Warnings: sm*t.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Chuck takes his time caring. Giving massages, reading an excerpt from a book, washing his partner hair, anything that they need. He’s always humming some song, and that always brings comfort. 

And sometimes, sharing a cigarette post sex. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Chuck was very self-conscious about his body after he got shot in Austria, losing some movement in his left arm. But with time, and reassurance, he could admit that his body wasn’t all that bad looking. Later, he admitted that his hair is his favorite part actually, always neatly combed or in a small wave up on the front. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Depends on the mood. 

Slow, sensual love making makes him want to cum inside, to never break the connection. He’s strict with the use of condoms, so there isn’t something to worry about. 

But when he feels like being dirty, and his partner too, he enjoyed watching it drip from his partner’s legs or ass. 

Never on the face, he feels like it’s very disrespectful. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

A threesome, he didn’t care if with another man or woman, but he would love to try it sometime, and only if his partner agrees with it, of course. 

He once drunkenly admitted that he would fuck Speirs if he could.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He didn’t have that much experience but he took his time learning how to pleasure his partner with time.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He’s very into sitting while they’re riding him, to keep close to their partner, enjoy the warmth of their skin and always with a tight grip in their hips/waist. 

But he’s a sucker for missionary. Sounds vanilla and boring, but with Chuck Grant, it’s really something else. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

If maybe his left arm fails to holding him up, he would sometimes chuckle at the situation. But he’s usually so into it, he doesn’t really laugh. I’m not Luz, this isn’t a joke for me to make. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The man has barely any hair in his body. No chest hair. Just a nice beard he sometimes let’s grow. But he keeps trimmed and clean what he needs to keep trimmed and cleaned. 

On their partner, he doesn't really give a shit. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Chuck isn’t a man for one night stands. He did them a few times around his 20s, but as he grew, he despised them. He always felt pressured into them and regretted the last few. 

So, when he shares his bed with someone, he’s very into it. He always keeps a grip on his partner, pays attention to reactions to what he does, every now and again asks if this or that is okay for him to do. And he kisses literally everywhere. Open mouthed, sloppy kisses, which never fail, in his opinion.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not usually but yes, sometimes just to relieve stress. But other times, he just gets the picture of his partner in his head and he can’t shake it off. So, he finds his privacy, locks doors, and gets at it. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Hair pulling. Both ways. He loves doing it, and loves when he gets his hair pulled. 

And sometimes, just sometimes, he enjoys being handled and given orders. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere in the house. Countertops, backyard, the swing he set in his patio, the edge of the pool, anywhere stable. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Being called sir. The sense of being an authority. Also, kissing the edge of his jawline and down sends him reeling. 

What he doesn’t dare to ask is what one partner did once: they sucked two of his fingers slowly and he almost lost it. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Humiliation seems awful to him. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves getting, loves giving. Doesn’t have a preference. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually, he’s slow and sensual, and takes his time. But what Chuck enjoys a lot is angry sex, which goes very fast and sometimes, leaves a few marks in his and his partner’s skin. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Only if necessary. Not a crucial thing for him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s not a fan of getting caught, he would go terribly red and made a stuttering mess. But sometimes, he enjoys being teased on a night out before heading home. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Two at most, but those two will have both fast asleep after it. He can drag it a long while, but he needs his rest as much as the next person. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Never tried, but open to it after he saw his partner using it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t dare to admit it, but he’s very much into dirty talking, so, he enjoys the casual whispering close to the partner’s ear how much he wants them at the moment. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Chuck moans quite a lot, stutters and curses a shitload. For a shy, lowkey man, he loves repeating his partner’s name like a mantra and swears like a sailor when given pleasure. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He sometimes enjoy admiring people and talking about how he would fuck them with his partner. It’s weird, but when he feels comfortable, he does it. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Thicker than expected, long, and slightly curved. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Quite high, which usually surprises you. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sometimes it takes a while for him to fall asleep, he likes to spend some time maybe talking and laugh a bit before he falls asleep, usually enjoying to be the small spoon, rather than the big.

[husbandograveyard]

Congrats on 300 followers Hzael! You deserve it! Can I ask for 42 (I'm going to save you from the terrible date you're having) with Aizawa? Thank you! OwO

Hi love! Here’s some knight in shining armor Shota to save you from the other douchebags on donkeys! Hope you enjoy! 

Come save me - Shota Aizawa x Reader 

Cliche with bae event Prompt #42: come save me from the terrible date I’m having  Character: Shota Aizawa - Word count: 1.7k 

Hunger. Regret. Embarrassment. More regret. Anger. Frustration. A whirlpool of emotions was going through you as you kept your expression as neutral as possible, aggressively cutting the piece of steak in front of you and eating a bit to try and distract you from the man sitting in front of you, talking while he barely made eye contact. You weren’t exactly sure what he was talking about at the moment, but you couldn’t care less. You wanted out of here. Now. How did you even get in this situation?

After dating around some in your circle of friends to no avail, you had finally turned to online dating. You made loads of profiles, installed all the apps, did the matching, the swiping, you name it. Out of the hundreds of possible candidates, you immediately deleted anyone that wasn’t looking for anything serious. You were no teenager anymore, you had a job and a home and you were ready to settle down completely.

Your biggest help in this adventure had been your coworkers and best friends, Hizashi and Shota. The three of you had gone to school together and now all three of you were teaching at U.A. Any guy you’d ever date had to go past these two, and honestly, you didn’t mind. Their protectiveness was endearing and they were pretty good judges of character.

They had been helping you weed out matches, even secretly (but not so secretly) tagged along on dates to make sure it wasn’t some creep. Even though you’d be perfectly fine fending off a creep by yourself, you were a capable hero after all, you really liked them looking out for you.

Now for this date, it had been a little different. You had gotten this match from one of the more expensive sites. The kind where so-called experts matched people based on their personalities and profiles. It took you a whole long time filling in a question list for them, but when you got your match, you were not disappointed. Dating apps and such made you a little more shallow, looks were the first thing you saw on those, but hell, you were pleasantly surprised. Your ultimate match was extremely good-looking. But almost insanely so. Shota grabbed your phone, said ‘probably a douche’, and gave it back. Hizashi only laughed at the remark and let you first read up on his profile.

Your match did a normal office job but had an intelligence-based quirk that allowed him to understand everyone regardless of the language they spoke, which he used in his line of work. He was two years older than you, stable income, own house. He did some volunteering in his free time and most of your hobbies seemed to line up or were compatible at least. It was almost too good to be true, which was exactly what Hizashi said.

“Well, who pays so much money for such a personal dating service and then goes around and lies on their profile? That’d be stupid.” You were zooming in on the pictures he shared, desperately trying to find traces of photoshop, but to no avail. Right as you were about to say something, he sent you the first message. You replied enthusiastically, and a nice conversation was born.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly, and your match had proposed to go have dinner somewhere. It was a pretty fancy restaurant he proposed, but you accepted, it was a nice change to maybe dress up and have an actual fancy date. You were keeping realistic scenario’s in your head but you couldn’t help but wonder if this guy was maybe the one you had been waiting for all along.

The date came along and you were actually in a sour mood before you even got there. Mostly because Shota had been increasingly mean about the guy the more you gushed about him. At some point, you had made a remark about jealousy, and that had caused quite a discussion until Hizashi broke it up and told you to get ready, and he’d be off for a guy’s night with Shota. It had been a while after all, and that way you wouldn’t even have to worry about either of them spying on you during your date.

How you were regretting that now. You wished they had spied on you because this date was a disaster. He had been over twenty minutes late, didn’t tell you the name of the reservation so you were waiting outside in the cold until he finally showed up. He looked great, just like in his pictures, but way less well-kempt than he had been looking on his pictures. You had dressed up in your best dress, had gone to the hairdresser to get your hair on point, applied a subtle amount of makeup to look your best, and appropriate for the date and the location. He was wearing some jeans, a T-shirt that had some spots on it that you didn’t even want to know about.

You smiled anyway, greeting him by holding out your hand, not too keen on hugging a total stranger, but he had gone straight in for a kiss on the cheek, and you noticed how he didn’t smell nice either. It really busted your mood, even more, were you only worth so little effort that he showed up like that? But you kept his hobbies, and all the nice things he had said in chat in mind, and went into the restaurant, putting all your hope in the person he was in your chat messages, which had been a terrible idea.

The food was expensive and way too little, and this man had not stopped talking about himself. The volunteering was a one-time gig, ‘always pleases the ladies’ he had smugly added to the story, and many other things on his profile weren’t exactly lies, but were mostly polished up truths to make him look better. He had gone as far as interrupting you multiple times even after he himself had asked you a question, degraded female heroes and generally any woman who worked because ‘you gotta let men do the job’. He expected his partner to drop their job for him, so he could be the sole provider. He was looking for a housewife, but the way he described it, was more a live-in-maid he could have some intimacy with as well, just whenever he pleased. It made you sick to your stomach and you wanted to leave, but that was not so easy in such a fancy restaurant without possibly causing a commotion.

You briefly excused yourself from the table, and he gave you a pissed-off look because you had clearly interrupted whatever very important thing he was saying. You made a beeline for the bathroom, contemplating for a second to just walk out but again, you had some kind of reputation to uphold. Once in the bathroom, you immediately dialed Shota’s number. He picked up within seconds.

“Let me guess. He’s a douche.” He wasn’t even trying to hide the smug tone in his voice. “He’s terrible… please come save me?” “I don’t know if I can. I mean… I cannot possibly interrupt your date with this perfect, wonderful, beautf-” “Shota I swear to god, get your ass over here. I need you right now.” It was silent for a few seconds, and then you heard a low chuckle before he spoke up again. “One rescue mission coming up.”

He had not put in the slightest effort to hide his annoyance, but you knew he’d show up. You refrained from splashing cold water in your face because you didn’t want to mess up your makeup and headed back into the dining room. He made some remark on how long you took and you focussed back on your plate, inwardly praying Shota wouldn’t take too much time in getting there.

Luckily for you, it was only about fifteen minutes later that you heard some commotion and before you could even look up what had made some other customers make surprised gasps Shouta was standing at your table. In full Eraserhead gear. Not that that differed so much from his usual clothes, but still, very recognizable. You frowned. “Wha-?” “No time for questions. It’s an emergency, got your costume in the car.” You nodded and stood up, apologizing to your date, who was too speechless and too busy comprehending what was going on to come up with a retort.

Shota looked him up and down once as you were making your way to the exit, sending the man one more apologetic look and wave. “You look like you can handle the bill. Hero duties call sir. Good night”

You got in the car, and not five minutes later Shota got in too and started to drive. You weren’t really sure what to say or what to do. “Where’s…” “Hizashi? Got drunk and got home. I just dropped him off when you called.” “Oh…” You were feeling strangely uncomfortable, but you were not really sure why exactly, probably because the argument from earlier was not really resolved yet. “Shota, I’m sorry about-” “Don’t mention it. I could’ve reacted more maturely”

You nodded, looking ahead again. No use for deep discussions when Shota had a road to focus on. You looked around and were surprised to not be going back in the direction of your house. “Where are we going?” “A decent place” “What do you mean?” “Well, it’d be sad if you dressed up all beautiful like that for no reason. I know a place.” You blushed a little and looked at him, his eyes focussed on the road as he said that almost matter-of-a-factly. “Like… like a date?” you almost didn’t dare as k. “Like a date.”

You were speechless. In all your dating adventures you had never even considered the option that the perfect match was around you already all along. “If you’re up for that, if not, I can just drop you off at home?” “No no…”, you smiled, “I’d like that. No surprises with you.” “No stupid profile needed.” He smiled a little from behind the steering wheel and you felt the corners of your mouth curl up too. “No stupid profiles needed indeed.”

You knew what you were going to do when you got home: delete all that bullshit from your laptop and phone. Cause this time, it could really be the one.

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

Small Time Witch (13)

By the time you returned home your apartment was organized inventoried and packed. All that remained was the furniture which came with the place. You went back to leave the key and check for anything that may have been missed. Loki went with you. You found some wine and a couple of cups so you poured him some.

“It’s not a goblet so I hope you don’t feel too unrefined.” You handed him the cup and your finger tips touched.

“I’ll make an exception for today as we are not at a banquet.”

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to spend time with you. You are getting more involved with Captain imbecile and I assumed I wouldn’t see you as much.”

You rolled your eyes, “Be nice. He is good to me.”

“Darling, I am being kind. There are worse things to be called. I was wondering if you wanted to continue your training with Stephen Strange. They all seem to trust him. He seems capable.”

You stared into space absorbing what he was saying and understanding what he was tiptoeing around. “You’re leaving me.” He was quiet for several minutes. He held your hand and let you feel what he was feeling. It was too difficult to articulate. Slow tears fell from his eyes. He wiped them away before you could see.

You felt how much he loved you which you already knew. There was more. There was sadness. A deep sadness knowing you didn’t want him. You wanted to tell him that wasn’t true. You wanted to tell him how scared you were. You didn’t have to. He knew you were scared but not why. Perhaps it was time he knew about Andrew.

“I’m sorry. I can’t sit by and watch you fall in love with someone else. Your happiness means everything to me, Pet. If you are happy with him who am I to stand in your way?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and he nuzzled your hair. “I have a gift for you.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a familiar red box. “Open it.”

The hinge was tight and creaked when you lifted the lid. Inside was a gold bracelet adorned with tiny emeralds. Next to it was a tiny gold screwdriver attached to a leather cord. You passed your finger tips over the bracelet touching every jewel. “It’s beautiful.”

“May I?” You nodded yes and he took the bracelet out discarding the box. He produced the little screwdriver and opened the bracelet enough to slip over your wrist. He fastened it and held his hand over it. The emeralds glowed for a second. “Now you can wear it in the shower or wherever and it won’t be damaged. Do you like it?”

“I love it. Just one question. How do I take it off?” He hung the leather cord around his neck and gave you devilish smile.

“You don’t. Only I can. Or you can probably remove it with a regular screwdriver. But now, if you ever need me no matter where I am, I’ll always know.”

“Lok, can I tell you something? I feel like I need to tell you about my ex boyfriend Andrew. He’s the one who killed my family. But I loved him so completely. I was so consumed by him that I couldn’t see what was happening before my eyes.” You couldn’t look at him. You told him every detail of your relationship. By the end you were sobbing.

Loki tried to piece together what you were trying to say. “So you think I’ll betray you like Andrew did?” He couldn’t help but feel hurt by your assumption. “Pet, I give you my word I will never betray you.”

“No! No, Loki, I know you wouldn’t. I’m afraid because what I felt for Andrew is nothing compared to what I feel for you and that terrifies me. I can’t face a life of self isolation. It feels like you are all I will ever need. At this moment when we are together, no one else in this world exists. Do you understand how dangerous that can be?”

He did understand. He held you and knew that leaving was the right thing. You deserved to be surrounded by friends and family. It was never his intention to keep you from your friends but he certainly understood how you felt. If you were the only person he saw for the next thousand years he would be content. “I know that if I stay, you’ll continue to feel this way. I can’t let that happen.”

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll figure out a way to stop aging and we can live forever in a cottage on my family’s land. I still own it. I have every intention of building a house there.”

In your mind you saw a cottage built in the glen where the sun would shine through every morning like a spotlight. You would replant Lana’s garden filled with all of the herbs and flowers she loved so much. Inside you would have a fire place and deep tufted sofas. Bookshelves would line the walls behind you. You could work from home if Tony allowed.

You envisioned a place bustling with family just like it was when your mother was alive. A place filled with life. You longed for this. Loki saw it too and couldn’t help but smile. You shared a vision that you were having tea in your garden. He could see the sun shining on your face and your hair a mess. You were wrapped in an oversized cardigan and a blanket worrying over a book. This is a sight he’d like to see for all eternity. He pulled your face towards his and kissed you. You pulled back, “What?”

“Nothing. It just felt right. I’m sorry I know we shouldn’t.” He ran his fingers over your knuckles awakening a deep need in your lower belly.

“Well you’re leaving so I guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing if we did it one more time.”

“Only if you’re sure.” You climbed onto his lap and kissed him with a force that completely disarmed him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He followed your lead letting you undress him. You were less desperate now. You had no need to rush. You fell to your knees and slid your hands under his ass tilting up his hips so that you could swallow his manhood. You swirled your tongue around tasting the saltiness of his skin. He arched his back moaning and thrusting in time with your movements. You wanted to absorb him. You felt powerful. Holding him in your hand was as raw as holding his still beating heart. His cock throbbed and pulsed in your mouth. He was getting close to his tipping point. “Pet, stop. I want to feel you.” You released him with a pop and smiled up at him.

You stood up and undressed excruciatingly slow. He scooted to the very edge of the cushion and draped one leg over his shoulder. Two long fingers dipped into you and stretched you open. He licked you slow then fast always keeping you guessing. Then he developed a rhythm that turned you to goo. Your orgasm came hard and fast. Your leg nearly gave out from under you. He held your hips and you let your hands fall on his shoulders for stability. He kept going until he felt your body stiffen again then he stopped.

He pulled you back to his lap and lowered you down. You both sighed as your bodies settled into each other. If you were his puzzle box he was your key that took you apart and got you together. The whole apartment seemed to rock. A wave built inside of you and when it reached its peak you held onto him for dear life as it crashed down. When he came he pulled you back to look at his face. His eyes were fixed on yours and you rode each other to safety. You rolled off of his lap and pulled him down to lay his head on you. When he finally spoke his voice was rough and ragged. You felt his tears flowing over your bare belly but you didn’t say anything. You just ran your fingers through his hair trying to calm him.

“I love you, Y/N. And if I live another thousand years I will love you each and every day that my body draws breath.” He sat up and took your hand and placed it over his heart, “Each beat is yours and it will never beat for another living soul. Please, my beauty, tell me you love me too so that I can survive until you are ready for me to come home.”

“I love you, Loki.” You whispered letting tears stream down your cheeks. He wiped them away and pressed his forehead to yours.

“Then that is all I need.” You kissed again to seal your union. You were bound to each other now. Even in death he would follow you.

Both of you were reluctant to leave your little bubble. You could no longer ignore Steve’s calls and texts. Loki got dressed before Steve threatened to come over. You embraced one more time both of you now audibly sobbing. He kissed your forehead and let you go. When the door closed you crumbled to the floor.

Where he was going you dared not ask nor how he would get there. He never explicitly told you that he had the tasseract but you kind of suspected. If you really knew you would be honor bound to tell someone and he refused to let you be a part of that. He had to get around somehow. Horses were not exactly de rigueur as a mode of transport on Midgard. Before he left he sent a message to Thor letting him know his time on Earth was up and he was searching for greener pastures. With a twist of the cube he was gone.

You collected yourself and grabbed your keys so you could go to the compound. Steve was out with Sam grabbing a drink. You were glad for the space. You found your room and crawled into bed. After a moment you heard a tap on your door. It was Wanda.

“Do you want some company?” You lifted your head and lost it when you looked at her. She crawled into bed with you and let you fall apart. She knew he was gone. She stayed with you all night.

U P S T A T E N E W Y O R K

“Spare no expense. I want this place to withstand anything.” Loki said to the architect. “When can I expect it to be ready?”

“No time at all, Mr. Laufeyson. Is this a vacation home?”

“No. This is where we plan to retire.”

The architect chuckled, “You look a little young to talk about retirement.”

Loki pushed up his sunglasses, “I look good for my age. Call me at this number when it’s completed.”

“Yes, sir.”

He set out on a mission to find a way to make you and all of your future children immortal. He wouldn’t return to Midgard until he found a way.

S I X M O N T H S L A T E R

An envelope arrived for you at the front desk of Stark industries. You were in the lab working on some new tech and chatting with Thor and Nat when Tony came in. “This came for you. Since when do you get mail here?” You swiped from his hand.

There was no return address just a stamp. Your name was hand written on the front in beautiful penmanship. Thor peered over your shoulder frowning, “That’s my brother’s sigil.” You pressed the envelope to your chest searching for a more private place to open it. Thor followed you. “What did he send you?”

“Shhhh. I don’t know.” You opened it and an ornate gold key fell out clanging onto the floor. The top of the key was fabricated to also look like Loki’s sigil. You picked it up and fished out the papers inside. The first was a deed in your name and his. You handed it to Thor who looked very confused.

“He bought you a house?!”

“What the fuck, Thor? Did you know about this?” The next thing was a small postcard with a picture of the most stunning cottage on the front. It was situated in a glen where the sun would shine through each morning like a spotlight. Exactly like the one in your vision. On the back it simply said, “Come home when you miss me.”

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Forget Me Not (1/15) ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 2k

Warnings: Mention of car accident, injuries

A/N: This is my first attempt in doing a series and I’m super excited/nervous. Everything’s mostly outlined already and I’m hoping to post a new chapter every Sunday.  If you’d like to be tagged in this, let me know! 

As always, I hope you enjoy!

The heavy rain poured down from the dark skies, battering against the roof of Keanu’s Porsche like a hail of bullets. Loud roars of thunder filled the gaps of silence every few minutes, followed by bright flashes of lightning that illuminated the world outside. The wipers moved impressively fast as they tried to sweep the droplets of water away from the windshield. Still, they could barely keep up with the torrent of rain hammering the city of Los Angeles.

Turning down a corner, Keanu cursed under his breath when he realized that the road was flooded. He quickly made a U-Turn back onto the main street, his tires skidding across the wet pavement. He searched for an alternative way that he could take, but the chaotic storm only made it more difficult for him to do so. He could hardly see what was ahead of him, and he was beginning to lose his patience.

Fortunately, Keanu was able to find an access road leading to the freeway. He knew it wasn’t safe going twenty miles above the posted speed limit, but he had already lost too much time trying to navigate through the storm. All he cared about at that moment was that the faster he drove, the quicker he got to you.

He could still remember every word of that phone call from nearly an hour ago. It was from an unknown number, and initially, he didn’t want to answer it just in case you decided to call him back. But something in his gut told Keanu to answer, and he did. It had been a nurse on the other line saying that you were in an accident, and you were rushed to the emergency room in critical condition. As soon as he heard that you were hurt, he was already running out of the door.

His eyes glistened as he thought back to the moment before you had left your shared home in such a haste. Keanu blamed himself for giving you a reason to leave the house while a storm raged outside. He should have held back his tongue, took your car keys, and convinced you harder enough to stay. If only he had done just that, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

The rest of the drive to the hospital was a blur. After driving for fifteen minutes when it should have taken Keanu at least thirty, he finally arrived in front of Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. He parked his vehicle in a nearby lot before rushing towards the entrance, the pitiless rain soaking his hair and clothes in an instant. Reaching the glass doors, they parted for Keanu to step inside, and he immediately headed to the main desk ahead.

“Hi, I-I’m here for my partner, Y/N Y/LN,” he managed to say as he caught his breath.

The nurse nodded, checking her system for your information. “Yes, I was the one who called. Your name was listed as Y/N’s emergency contact. According to the last update on here, it says that she was wheeled into surgery about thirty minutes ago, Mr. Reeves.”

“Is she going to be alright?” Keanu asked wearily, hoping that her answer was what he wanted to hear.

It wasn’t.

“We don’t know yet, sir,” she replied sadly before placing a clipboard on top of the counter. “You can sit in the waiting room until the procedure is over. In the meantime, we need you to fill out these papers on her behalf.”

With a nod of his head, Keanu walked down the hall with the paperwork and a pen in hand. The waiting area was stark and quiet. The television mounted on the wall was playing a movie, not that there was anyone paying attention to it. There were a couple of other people scattered in the room, though most were asleep due to the late hour of the night.

Keanu took a lone seat in one corner of the room, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of his drenched clothing sticking to his skin. He then pushed his long hair back, letting out a deep sigh. The adrenaline had finally subsided, and he had the opportunity to just breathe. He already knew that this was going to be a long wait, and he didn’t want to spend the whole time mulling about the things that he could have done to prevent this. As a start, he decided to concentrate on filling up the paper with your information first.

Most of the questions it asked were basic, nothing that Keanu couldn’t answer. After being together for nearly five years, he knew everything there was to know about you. He knew all of your favorite songs, the foods you liked and disliked, the names of your closest friends, and more.

You had been nothing but kind and understanding to Keanu from the moment you two met. It wasn’t an easy life living under the public eye because of his job as an actor, but you’ve always handled it so well. No other person he has ever dated had made him feel so happy and complete. To him, you were the most precious thing in the entire world, and he has never loved someone so deeply until you came along.

God, why did he have to screw up so badly?

Keanu set aside the clipboard and buried his face in his hands. He needed to call your parents and tell them what had happened. With a sharp exhale, he fished out his phone from his pocket and called your father. As the phone rang in his ear, he planned inside his head how he was going to break the news.

“Hi, Keanu,” your father greeted. He sounded as if he had just woken up, which he probably did. It was only five in the morning where they lived on the east coast. “Is everything okay, son?”

Son. Keanu was very close to your parents since the day you introduced him to them. They had quickly taken a liking on him, seeing that he was the first man you’ve dated that treated you right. Your parents loved Keanu as if he were one of their own, and it broke his heart knowing that this was all his fault.

“I’m sorry for waking you up, but...” Keanu began, his voice starting to break as he tried to find the right words. “It’s Y/N.”

“What? What happened?”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Keanu told your father about your current condition. As expected, your parents would be taking the first flight out of New York to be with you. After an exchange of reassuring words, the call ended, and Keanu couldn’t hold back any longer, letting his tears finally fall.

An hour went by, then another and another. The clock on display made time felt as though it was moving much slower, making the wait much more unbearable. Keanu would glance up, and in every instance, he swore that the second hand would linger an extra minute at every passing second.

The padded chairs didn’t bring much comfort throughout the night. Every so often, he would walk around the room, stretching his legs for a bit before returning to his seat. Despite exhaustion threatening to take over, Keanu pushed it aside for as long as he could. He was afraid that if he dared to shut his eyes, he would see the nightmare that was already haunting him even while awake.

Keanu did whatever he could to pass the time. He texted his mother and sisters about where you were, not expecting an answer right away because he was sure they were still asleep. He then attempted to read some of the outdated magazines available and watched whatever was on the television. He even resorted to simply staring at the window and watching the rain as it pelted against the glass.

But none of them were enough to distract Keanu. All he could think about was your well-being, and how you didn’t deserve to go through this. He didn’t want to lose you, and the mere thought of it was scaring him. You had so much life left to live, and it wouldn’t be fair for the universe to suddenly take it away.

Eventually, the storm relented, and the skies that were black shifted to blue, signaling a new day of life. The sun rose slowly yet surely, its natural light bringing a sense of calm to Keanu. For a brief moment, he basked in the peacefulness, only wishing that you were there with him to enjoy it.

“Mr. Reeves?”

Keanu turned around, his eyes catching sight of a doctor standing before him. He instantly pushed himself up from his seat, extending his hand for a shake.

“Keanu, and you must be Y/N’s doctor.”

“Yes, my name is Dr. Henderson,” the older gentleman introduced. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing alright, I guess,” he replied with a slight shrug. “How’s Y/N?”

“Well, when Y/N first arrived, she was in bad shape, but we managed to stabilize her. The car accident caused a lot of internal bleeding that we were able to stop during the surgery,” Henderson explained as Keanu took in every word that was said. “Unfortunately, she’s not out of the woods yet. She did sustain severe head trauma, and as a result, she’s currently in a coma. We won’t know the extent of her injuries until after she wakes up.”

Keanu lowered his head, releasing the breath he was holding. “And when will she wake up?”

The doctor sighed, and that’s when Keanu looked up, seeing the uncertainty painted on the other man’s face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Reeves. We don’t know how long it’ll take. It could be days, weeks, maybe even months.”

“Okay,” was all that Keanu could say after a while. “Can I see her?”

Dr. Henderson gave him a sympathetic smile and a nod. “Of course.”

Henderson led the way as Keanu trailed closely behind. The walk to your room seemed endless. Every hallway they turned down to looked the same as the last. The blank white walls of the hospital felt cold, constricting and unwelcoming, it was becoming a place where a person like you shouldn’t belong.

Soon, they reached the foot of your door, your last name printed on a placard just below the room number. All Keanu had to do now was push down on the handle and open the door. His mind prepared him for what he was about to see. But as soon as he entered inside, it was worse than what he could imagine.

He crossed the room with cautious steps, afraid that if he were loud enough, it might disturb you. Your body was hooked on many machines, none of which he could possibly know what for other than they helped keep you alive. Once he reached your bedside, Keanu saw your delicate skin littered with the reds of your scratches and the blues of your bruises. Seeing you this way made his chest tightened, and if he could, he would trade places with you so that you no longer had to suffer.

Your body laid very still, and it was unnerving for Keanu to witness. Bringing a chair closer, he then sat down beside your bed, reaching out to hold your uninjured hand. He asked himself how you could look so peaceful after experiencing so much pain. If you had been awake, you would have surely given him a smart answer, and the two of you would then laugh about it.

Keanu felt the tears pricking his eyes as he continued to grasp your hand in his. He would do anything in the world just to hear the sweet sound of your laughter again. Though he was unsure of what tomorrow and the following days would bring, he knew that he would be right there by your side, waiting for you to wake up from your deep sleep.

Because despite everything that has happened, Keanu loved you, and he made a vow that he would never give up on you no matter what.

Part 2

Tagged: @penwieldingdreamer​