#i have mastered the art of the silent scream. by which i mean just sitting here very forcefully compressing air out of my lungs with barely

[many-gay-magpies]

SCATTERED ‘CROSS MY FAMILY LINE, I’M SO GOOD AT TELLING LIES. THAT CAME FROM MY MOTHER’S SIDE; TOLD A MILLION TO SURVIVE. SCATTERED ‘CROSS MY FAMILY LINE; GOD, I HAVE MY FATHER’S EYES (BUT MY SISTER’S WHEN I CRY). I CAN RUN BUT I CAN’T HIDE FROM MY FAMILY LINE. OHHH ALL THAT I DID TO TRY TO UNDO IT ALL OF MY PAIN AND ALL YOUR EXCUSES I WAS A KID BUT I WASN’T CLUELESS (SOMEONE WHO LOVES YOU WOULDN’T DO THIS!!!!!!). ALL OF MY PAST I TRIED TO ERASE IT BUT NOW I SEE, WOULD I EVEN CHANGE IT? MIGHT SHARE A FACE AND SHARE A LAST NAME BUT (WE ARE NOT THE SAME). !!!

[wassertoffatom]

Thighs (RJ MacCready x F!Reader)

Master List

Also Posted on A03

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Thigh Riding, Dirty Talk, Alcohol, Semi-Public Sex, Language

Word Count: 1.7

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

Magnolia’s smooth voice resonates through the subway, barely drowning out the voices of people talking outside the VIP lounge. Not that you pay them any attention. Instead, you’re laughing at MacCready who pouts on the couch next to you. “It’s not that funny.”

He’s probably right, it’s probably not that funny, but with the alcohol coursing through your body, you find it down right hilarious. Shaking your head in denial, you place a hand on his shoulder, steading yourself as you struggle to regain your breath. “I’m sorry, Mac. I didn’t mean to laugh.” He frowns again, knowing damn well that you just lied to his face. The truth is, you love making fun of him. It’s an unspoken thing between the two of you where you joke on each other all the time, all in good fun. It makes the long nights and even longer walks tolerable.

“Yeah, sure. Laugh it up all you want. I know something that you don’t.” You sober right up. It’s clear he’s baiting you, but what does he know that you don’t? Should you take the bait? MacCready smirks, knowing he can play you like a fiddle right now and you wouldn’t even know it. Spreading his legs, he lifts his hips and readjusts his pants, arching back into a stretch to reveal his toned stomach. “Guess you don’t want to know what I know, huh boss?”

At the sight of his spread thighs, heat blooms under your cheeks. What does he know? “Alright MacCready. I’ll bite. What do you know that I somehow don't?”

His hands fall to his thighs, veins popping out underneath his skin as he spreads his legs a little wider. Your mouth goes dry. “I know you have a thing for thighs.” Oh shit.

“That’s a weird thing to have a fetish for,” you comment casually, looking down at your cuticles and pretending to take interest in them, avoiding his blown pupils. From beside you, MacCready lets out a huff of annoyance. 

“Don’t deny it. I see how you look at Danse’s legs. Hell, even Deacon’s.” He hesitates, taking a sip of his drink for the extra confidence boost. “I know how you look at mine.”

Oh no, oh no, oh no. He’s onto you. Shit, silently cursing to yourself, you tilt your head to look at the young mercenary. “One, Danse is built like a damn bodybuilder. His muscles are defined as hell, which takes hella work getting them that detailed. It was an art during prewar. Totally normally to appreciate the dedication that a person takes for their body. Two, Deacon has something in his pocket that only appears when he crouches down and I’m curious as to what it is. Three, I like your bandolier. I’m thinking abo-,” you’re cut short when large hands reach over and wrap around your waist, dragging you onto his lap, your body facing him. “What are you doing?”

“I want to test something,” MacCready whispers against your ear, shifting you to where his left leg is slotted between yours, hands not leaving your hips. Not knowing exactly where he’s going with his demonstration, you try, and fail, to stifle a moan when his leg flexes. “Ha! I knew it.”

Swatting your hands against his chest, he laughs as you curse him out, cheeks burning in embarrassment. “MacCready you’re such a dick, you asshole.”

“Woah woah, no need to call me that. I’m not the one with a thigh fetish. And for the record, you’re still sitting on my thigh.” You rush to get off his thigh, but his hands hold firm on your hips. “Not that I mind.”

Well, this is just embarrassing. You want to scream. To cry. To run away and never see him again. Maybe you should join your former - dead - husband back in the vault. “MacCready, let me go.”

“No way. Not a chance in hell,” he raises his leg slightly, flexing his muscles again against your core and you really wish that you were not here. “You’re clearly into it.”

“It’s embarrassing-” again, you’re cut off from your thoughts by a pair of lips on yours. You and MacCready had never really put a label on what you were. Hell, you didn’t even know that he liked you like that, but with the way his leg continues to flex against your body and his lips fold against yours, it’s clear that he feels the same way. Pulling away, you look down at him, a lopsided smirk on his face, one hand holding onto you and the other reaching between his legs, unclipping his buckle, the bandolier falling onto the couch beneath you. “Mac?”

“Use me.”

“I- what? Huh?” His hand joins the other on your hips, bouncing you further up on his leg, slowly dragging your hips back and forth, causing a whimper to tumble from your lips. 

“Use my thigh like I know you want to.” He can tell that there’s hesitation. He can also tell that you just need a little extra push. “I want you to use my thigh to get yourself off.” 

Words can not begin to explain your thoughts. For all he talks about not having a filthy mouth, that surely didn’t include during sex. “Mac.”

“Bobby. Call me Bobby.” His blown pupils stare up at you as your hips start to move on their own, no longer needing guidance from his hands as your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of your clothed sex rubbing against his thigh. “Do you want to do this in your pants or do you want to get out of them?” Eyes snapping open, you peer down at him before getting off of his lap. You watch as his eyes drink you up like he’s dying of thirst and you’re the only water on this damned planet. Slowly, you move your hands to your belt, undoing the buckle before moving to the zipper. Toeing off your shoes, you allow your pants to fall to the floor before kicking them off, not ignoring the way his tongue darts out to lick his lips. Readjusting his legs, you can clearly see the evident enjoyment that he’s getting out of this. “Come here.” 

You don’t need to be told twice as you’re practically throwing yourself back onto his leg, your own resting comfortably on either side. Picking up your activity, you let a low moan spill from your kiss swollen lips at the feeling of rough fabric rubbing against your damn underwear,  arms bracing themselves on his shoulders. 

“Yeah, that’s right, slow and steady.” One of his hands roams the expanse of your bare thigh, causing shudders to ripple across your skin, while the other gently squeezes your breast from under your shirt. “You’re so gorgeous, you know that?” His fingers tweak a nipple as your hips rock against his leg languidly. “You’re the most gorgeous woman in the Commonwealth and here you are, making a mess of yourself on my thigh.” Your breathing hitches in your throat at his words, head tossing back as he leans up, placing sloppy wet kisses on the column of your throat, purposely jerking his leg up into you. “Been thinking about you for so long. How you would feel sitting all pretty on my dick.”

“Mac-” you moan out, hips thrusting with more intent as your hands dig into his shoulder. A sharp slap against your thigh causing you to let out a gasp of surprise. “Bobby,” it’s breathless as you pant, the feeling of his thigh twitching between your legs sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

“Been also thinking about how you would taste on my tongue. I bet you would taste sweeter than honey.” His goatee tickles your throat as his hands find purchase on your hips, grounding you into him, the fabric of his pants catching your covered clit.

“Bobby please.” You feel your orgasm slowly creep up on you, your hips rutting wildly against his thigh. “God, please.” Your head falls forward, burying itself in the crook of his neck.

“Do I make you feel good?” His leg begins to bounce up and down as you squirm, rubbing yourself shamelessly against him. “Tell me how I make you feel.”

“So good Bobby. Make me feel so good,” you can’t really process your mumblings but you can feel the knot getting tighter and tighter. “So close.”

Nodding his head, one of his hands reaches between your legs, fingers pulling your underwear to the side to expose your cunt, causing you to hiss at the cold air but jump when his thumb rubs against your swollen clit in tight circles. A sob erupting from your throat. “Come on (Y/N), cum for me,” his lips find your sweet spot as he nibbles, thumb still rolling against your clit as his leg continues to bounce you up and down. “Be a good girl and cum on my thigh.”

A loud moan echoes through the VIP Section as your body convulses, and if it wasn’t for MacCready dragging you into his body you thought for sure you would’ve fallen off his thigh. “That’s it. That’s it. Good girl. You did such a good job,” his voice is strained against your ear as he continues to rub you, coaxing you through your orgasm. “So gorgeous on top of me.”

Slowly stopping your hips, the blood in your ears drain as your senses come back. “God, that was so good.”

“I knew you would like it,” he smirks as you slip off his thigh onto the spot next to him, a dark green spot standing out against the rest of his pants and his eyes stare intensely at it. “That was insanely hot, you know.”

“Mac?”

“Hmm?” He rips his eyes from the spot on his pants to your body, chest heaving up and down, the neon light causing your breasts to glisten with sweat.

“What does this make us?"

He hesitates for a second before a lopsided smile graces his face. “Well, I know I’d definitely like to do that again, if you want to.”

“I definitely do,” you wink at him before throwing your leg over his waist, hovering over his raging hardon. “Now how about I help you out with that?”

“I’d love nothing better.” His lips capture yours in a fight for dominance, the both of you forgetting exactly where you are and whose establishment you’re in.

@friviott

[petri808]

Day 16 @flufftober “singing each other to sleep” Twiyor Drabble Inspired by art by @wildgirl86 Click Here to see the piece and support them! 💜 Also here is the song featured in the story, Dreaming of You by Selena.

A scream echoes through the silent apartment causing Loid and Yor to shoot up instantly awake— a reflex from their days of past. With a turn and a knowing look, they each jump out of bed and run to the source ready to do battle with any evil spy or boogie man in the closet. From the glow of the starlight globe on the nightstand, they see the raised outline of something sitting up under the covers and hear the wet sobbing of a child’s tears. Loid flicks on the light as Yor beelines it for the bed.

“Anya?” Yor questions in a soothing voice as she sits along the edge. With Loid standing by along with an anxious Bond, she peels back the blanket until it reveals the shivering little girl. “Did you have a nightmare?”

The child nods with tears still dripping down her cheeks.

“Was it the one about the lab?” Loid confirms.

Again, Anya nods. Her green eyes full of moisture and surrounded in a white sea of red squiggles are like a peridot gem being born from an erupting volcano. It’s evident that tonight’s dream is an especially bad one. This brings a frown to Loid’s face, a bit of guilt…

“Awww,” Yor scoops Anya up into a tight hug bundled on her lap. “I’m so sorry Anya!” She coos assuringly. “Wanna sleep with us tonight?”

“Yes!” Anya sniffles and wraps tightly to Yor’s neck. “Don’ wanna be awone,” she whimpers.

“Of course,” Loid confers with a smile, “you can sleep with us. Here,” he gestures to Yor, “I’ll carry her.” But as Yor is about to pass Anya up to Loid, Bond cuts between them grumbling. Loid chuckles, “I think he wants to be your trusted steed tonight Anya.”

“He does,” Anya confirms, which also brings back her smile.

Yor places Anya onto Bond’s back, then she and Loid follow behind as he trots to the master bedroom. Bond stops next to the bed so Anya can climb onto it. Once she’s off, he goes to the foot of the bed and lays down while Loid and Yor climb in, sandwiching her between them.

“Momma, will you sing me something?” Anya asks politely. “Pweeze?”

“Sure,” Yor kisses Anya’s forehead, who settles in and closes her eyes with a smile.

The couple face inward, Loid laying his right arm over and hand coming to rest on Yor’s waist to bundle them close. He too closes his eyes and relaxes to the sound of his wife’s beautiful voice. It isn’t often that he gets to hear it, he chuckles inside his head at the thought of feigning a nightmare of his own so she’ll sing to him too.

After a moment, Yor hums briefly to find her pitch and begins. “Late at night when all the world is sleeping, I stay up and think of you. And I wish on a star, that somewhere you are thinking of me too...”

Loid can’t help the genuine uptick of his lips as he zones into Yor’s voice. Just two years ago, he never would have believed of a scene like this being anything more than a fictional scene from a drama on television. When he signed up with WISE, he swore off normalcy, swore off family all together let alone having his own. Relationships were just a means to an end and children a prop in an operation. But Loids brows furrow again as he remembers their role in Anya’s nightmare, which is no nightmare but a memory of the laboratory that created her. Because he made a mistake, they kidnapped her and took her back to that awful place. Thankfully with Yor and Yuri’s help they were able to get her back, but not before they put her through a few more painful experiments.

“…I just wanna hold you close, but so far, all I have are dreams of you. So I wait for the day and the courage to say how much I love you. Yes, I do! I’ll be dreaming of you tonight. ‘Til tomorrow, I’ll be holding you tight. And there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be…”

Yor’s voice is slowly trailing off, so Loid opens his eyes too and sees she falling asleep. He brushes some stray hairs away from her face, causing her to relax even more and stop completely. This makes him smile. They make him smile. It’s times like this that makes him feel lucky to have met them both. Eventually the nightmares too will become a distant memory for Anya replaced by nights like tonight and her mother’s beautiful voice. All the pain they went through gave them this gift of a family, and there’s definitely nowhere else in the world better to be in.

“I love you too.” Loid leans over and kisses Anya first, then Yor on the forehead, before settling back in and closing his eyes. He keeps his voice soft and serene as he completes the lullaby. “Now I’m dreaming with you tonight. ‘Till tomorrow and for all of my life. And there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be, than here in my room dreaming with you... Good night, my loves.”

[holydonuttidalwave]

HURT

Chapter 1: The Beginning of The End

Summary: Namjoon flies off for a schedule in Europe, and a pregnant Y/N finds out he was with someone else.

"What the f*ck? is that---" Hyejin asked but was interrupted by Y/N saying "Yeah, that's her." Y/N sighed before taking her phone back from her bestfriend, she stared at the photo, it was namjoon sitting across his ex at the restaurant, smiling at her the same way he did at Y/N.

"They're probably just catching up" Y/N said "I mean I heard she used to frequent Paris so maybe---" but Hyejin interrupted her "When was the last time he video called you?" Y/N looked at her bestfriend "His first night in Paris but he told me internet was pretty shitty at the hotel so he couldn't video call me too much..." she answered softly as she placed a hand on her growing bump

Hyejin saw the look on her friends face and sighed "I don't want to be the devils advocate but he's staying at a 5 star hotel..." she trailed off Y/N nodded "Lets talk about something else" she said softly

LATER THAT DAY

"Alright, call me if you need anything" Hyejin said before hugging Y/N goodbye "I will" she said softly as she smiled at her bestfriend "Talk to him alright?" She sighed before nodding and watching her bestfriend walk I to the elevator.

Y/N felt her heart ache as she closed the door to their apartment, it was the same apartment Namjoon had lived in when he was a bachelor of course there were minor changes, the once empty room that housed books and art now became the nursery for the upcoming baby.

Y/N distracted herself from her phone by watching TV and was startled when her phone started ringing "Hello?" "Baby, I'm so sorry I just had the time to call the sche---" "Cut the lies Joon, I know you're not there for work"

Silence

Y/N sighed "I know you're in Paris with her" she said softly as she heard Namjoon sniffle on the other end "Y/N" "I saw the photos, I was tagged in them, I was hoping you just met up with her but I dont know anymore"

Silence

"You know for a man whose main job is to express himself through his music you're awfully silent" she said sarcastically "Y/N I can explain" "Video call me right now" "I can't I--" "You know what--" then she heard a door open and a female voice call for Namjoon "I left the meeting early Joon"

Y/N's heart sank "Have fun" she said softly as she heard Namjoon growing more and more frantic on the other end but Y/N hung up.

FOUR DAYS LATER

Namjoon had gotten home the day before but Y/N decided to ignore him and avoid him as much as she can, which was hard considering the apartment was only one floor.

He had tried several times to converse with her as if nothing had happened but she couldn't look at him without feeling disgusted and betrayed.

She decided to move some of her things to the guest bedroom and while packing the stuff she was moving from the masters Namjoon came into the walk in closet, his eyes pleading with hers

"Y/N we have to talk, please" he said softly, Y/N looked at him tears brimming in her eyes as she looked at the man she trusted the most, the man she loved and the man she was having a child with who has now become the man who had betrayed her "Why, was I not enough for you?" She asked as he sat on the spot on the floor in front of her. He shook his head

"Nothing is your fault Y/N please. I made a mistake, I regret it. I should have never met up with her. I shouldn't have lied to you--" she looked at him, tears falling from her eyes."You regret it because someone saw you" she said softly "Did you sleep with her" she asked softly.

"Y/N please think of our baby" she knew then that he had but she wanted to hear him admit it, no matter how painful she knew it would be, she needed to hear it come out of his mouth "DID YOU SLEEP WITH HER" she screamed at her husband throwing a handful of her clothes towards him, he looked at her in shock and he fell silent before nodding, tears falling from his eyes "I'm sorry" it was then that she broke down crying, Namjoon tried to calm her down but she kept hitting him as he tried to wrap her in a hug, a few moments later she stopped fighting and gave in, crying in the arms of the man who had caused her heart to split into two.

[keegansakura]

So guess who made an upload schedule, got sick, AND PROMPTLY FORGOT IT! This bitch! Oops! Anyways! So uh- in exchange for my stupidity what was going to be a couple of shorter posts is being combined into one because you guys deserve a treat. I am working towards a master list of all my nonsense- … we'll see how well keeping track of that goes- I do plan on doing some art of various levels and entities with the help of my dear friend CodspikeStudios but that will be under its own separate thing to be viewed. Don't worry each piece will be labeled with the corresponding log. MOVING ON- These logs and upcoming story are all linked to the rec room game known as The Backrooms: Silent Screams. If you are interested in playing it, by all means please do, and some stuff will overlap with in game events. With that said, please remember that Silent Screams and it's other in-universe stories operate on its own canon with its own custom takes on some entities and creatures that you will not find on any wikis unless we the dev team make something official. Now with that said I give one final thing before we go join Sakurai on the train. On the masterlist once I have that there is a title by the name of Eyes on the Sparrow, which will eventually become an expansion of these initial logs! No idea when the first chapter will drop as of right now. That's all from the update and disclaimer stuff, you're responsible for the content you consume, enjoy my bullshit!

I do apologize for the delay- it took me a while to get things organized for this. I do appreciate you coming back here despite the delay to see where this story goes. Now, I've managed to detangle three.. possibly four of these to start. It seems these entries cover different levels of a place known as The Backrooms. Now, the Backrooms are a rather.. interesting place from what I hear. While I personally have never been, Karma tells me it is like wandering around a very chaotic backstage to a production.. but then again they never exactly explain things all that well. These entries come from a wanderer in that place but unfortunately they… didn't put their name on any of what I have so far- maybe the author will make themselves known later on, but in the meantime .. let's start at the beginning. Level 0.. yellow halls and wet carpet smell I hear..

Finally have a moment to just sit and calm down. This place is.. weird is an understatement. I was in what I thought was an abandoned laboratory of sorts so why did I suddenly end up in a place that's nothing but pale yellow walls and carpet? At least now I know for sure I'm not being tailed by a creep.. only complaint here is that god awful damp carpet smell.

How you get into the Backrooms is through a process known as a noclip. Think of it like glitching out of bounds in a video game. You essentially glitch out of the bounds of reality and into the back part of it. It seems this wanderer ran into a spot where this phenomenon happened. There was a pause in this before they went back to writing again. ..I will say though, their handwriting is horrible. Let's keep looking

What the fuck was that. I found this one area that had a lot of higher up type of spots completely covered in red light. I swear I saw someone watching me from up there. There were these glowing green eyes I think- just staring from the highest level. Turned to leave the area and when I looked back into that spot whatever it was had left. Great. Not the only thing in this place… gotta keep moving. If there is something in here, I don't want to find out what it is. I think I see some stairs just around the corner from here, could be a way at least out of these damned yellow walls. Not in a hurry to leave wherever this is, but the buzzing and the carpet smell is getting to be a bit much!

Stairs… Karma told me that a way out of level 0 is to find a set of stairs going up. So they found an exit.. the question is where does it end up..

The stairs lead to this room with a wood floor and a table in the middle. Four chairs surrounded it, with two in the corners for some reason.. not a lot of light in here.. only a single lightbulb dangling from a wire. The clock ticking is nice. I think I'll rest here for a bit before going forward, and hey! If anything tries to follow me here.. I'll at least see it coming from the corner I'm sitting in. There's a tape on the table. I wonder if it works? ..it did. Apparently I'm not the only human here. This place is apparently called The Backrooms. …That kind of explains the look of the last place. Had that sort of feel to it. I'm not entirely sure though if leaving is something I want to do though. This place is weird but I kind of want to know more about it. Apparently the next area is the Habitable Zone.. thanks for the tips Elliott. I'll try and remember them if I find anything else.

I'll have to put in word with Karma about this level. Sadly I'm not familiar with this level, but it is good that the wanderer was able to find a spot to rest. As for the other level mentioned here.. The Habitable Zone is another term for level 1. Infinite parking garage. Some say there's a way into level Fun from there but you'll have to inquire with that goat like fiend about the specifications. They said they'd be dropping by with some tapes for me to look at later so there could be some things there. Now.. let's refill our drinks and snacks and look at one last entry for the day.

So- I saw someone. I think they were human? I heard someone singing, so I thought I would follow the noise for a bit and see where it was coming from and there was this guy, who I think may take the cake for the most BRIGHTLY COLORED MAN I HAVE LAID EYES ON. I couldn't get a good look at his face, but he was wearing a pink tailcoat of sort.. and his hair matched the whole vibe with pinks, greens, and blues. It was interesting. Good singer too. He was just standing there I guess enjoying the good acoustics of the place which honestly me too sir. Me too. I don't think he saw me. This place in general is much cooler than the humid spot that was the yellow walls from earlier. Passed a door blaring “Skip to my Lou” which.. seemed to be missing something near it. There was a spot where something was sitting there but whatever it is it's not there now. Found a hallway leading to pipes, will check that out in a bit.

And that is everything I have as of now. Karma did say they have more along with audio logs of their own regarding some things. I do hope you enjoyed what we were able to look at tonight and I look forward to hearing what you have to say. Keep an eye out. I quite like this place so expect to see me come around more frequently. Now if you'll excuse me.. somebody seems to have found where I moved the wine and what's about to happen next in terms of train driving I would not wish on anyone- I told him to wait- Good night!

As you exit the train, you see the goat figure from earlier who was passing off some items to Sakurai. They were leaning against the wall of the tunnel almost like they were waiting for you to exit. “Did you have fun with that?” they said, smirking while their tail idly swished back and forth staring not out of menace but further curiosity. “The Backrooms carries a lot of stories. I'm still finding pieces of that one myself.” At that, they turned to board the train. Laughter can be heard from the inside as Karma can be heard joining having heard a joke before saying “HEY! Let's go grab Ivory and then we can really get this party going you two!” They swung themselves into the traincar and just as quickly as the train arrived, it whirred to life and left, leaving only you in the surrounding forest. As you turn to leave, you catch sight of a piece of paper with.. odd gibberish on it..

The text reads as follows: Olssv aolyl! Pa pz zv svclsf av mpuhssf tlla h mlssvd luqvfly vm aolzl zvyaz vm aopunz. Pa'z hss sprl vul clyf puaypnbpun nhtl pu vm pazlsm! Dopsl P jhu mvy uvd vusf dhajo pa ilpun wshflk P kpk thuhnl av nla tf ohukz vu h jvbwsl vm... Wpljlz, mvy doha pz av jvtl holhk. Aoha dhuklyly hjabhssf zbycpclk tllapun Jspw Jsvw kvdu pu Slcls 2 dopjo pz pualylzapun- iba uvd P't nlaapun holhk vm tfzlsm! Kvu'a dhua av zwvps HSSSS aol mbu uvd! Nvvk sbjr dpao zvscpun aopz tfzalyf! Vo! Huk kvu'a alss Jspw Jsvw. Pa'ss il vby spaasl zljyla.

Taglist: @umbraproductions112 @lulusupreme @daisycandy1025

[hansensgirl]

i’m in the water.

summary. | He’s in the wind, and you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.

warnings. | non/dubcon, smut, angst, protectiveness, kidnapping (implied), stockholm syndrome, obsessiveness, death/violence, dark themes, DDLG undertones, creampie kink, choking, piss kink (both pee), degradation, pet play undertones, p in v sex, Master kink, dacryphilia, crawling, slapping, hair pulling, face fucking, boot riding, orgasm denial, spitting, gagging, manhandling, praise, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count. | 8.5k

pairings. | Dark!Winter Soldier x Naive!Reader.

a/n. | please heed the warnings! i hope you enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. they’re both very hydrated! this takes place in the 90’s! thank you so much @asadmarveltrashbag and @mypoisonedvine for proof reading for me ilysm!!

From the day you were born, you always felt as though your legs are broken. Always needing crutches throughout your life to hold you up, always needing support. But you never really had these crutches, so you'd always drag your hands against the brick walls to support yourself. Vulnerable, breaking away at the edges, falling down. Nothing kind ever came, and it stays the same for a while.

So maybe that’s why you lean into his icy cold touch. So abrasive and yet so caring. His aspects are juxtaposed to each other, just like in those Magritte paintings your art teacher would show you. She was always a kind lady, but you don’t care enough about her to wonder where she is in life now. She was kind to you, though, so you hope that she isn’t suffering like you are.

Your goosebumps raise for the fifth time in this painfully slow hour.

“Are you cold, кролик?” he asks even though he knows the answer. You hum. You always do. Your voice doesn’t raise in an affirmation. It stays flat; he knows what that means. “Thinking again?” he gruffly presses, squeezes your bare arms. The thin, grey shirt with torn sleeves does nothing to protect your body. But why do you ask for protection against the man who has done everything for you?

“Why… Why do people believe that grey is a boring colour?” you ask him, looking around the dark cell that surrounds you. Soldat grunts, not knowing what to say. “I think it’s quite beautiful. All colours have different shades, yes, but there’s something about grey. Each shade comes with a different emotion. Don’t you think so?” you ask him, looking down to your lap.

A carrot toy sits there. It’s filled with cotton balls from the medical room, by his request. “Yes…” He bites the tip of his tongue, not sure what to say because the Soldat only has a few emotions and a few words. “Why can’t we get a different wall colour?” you question him, turning around to face the man.

“It’s not allowed,” he reminds you. You feel like you’re experiencing déjà-vu, but then again, the days have blurred together so well that you can’t tell if the tape is being put on rewind already. You have to assume that your celluloid scenes are fading away along with your sanity. It’s torn at the seams. Threads hanging that just need to be ripped or cut out.

“Beige would look lovely…” you point out solemnly. The Soldat doesn’t know what shade of beige you’re thinking of, but he believes it would be beautiful nonetheless. “I… have a mission,” he tells you after a while. You hum in that same monotonous tone again, so he squeezes your arm even tighter. “When, Master?” you curiously ask, only now taking in his words.

“Tonight. Approximately at twenty-one hours,” he informs you in that mechanic voice of his that you hate. It makes you feel more trapped and vulnerable, even though there’s quite literally a chip in the back of your neck. “How long?” you ask him softly, a frown already beginning to display itself on your face.

He doesn’t like it when you frown. He prefers the lines that your smile provides over the lines your frown forces. That innocent glint in your eyes shines a bit, flickering like a dull light on the verge of completely blowing. Though it’s not much, it’s still something. And when it goes away, his entire being is filled with darkness.

You’re the light of his life, the fire of his loins.

“Not sure. Extraction of information. Senators and mayors…” He begins to ramble, and you shake your head. “Sorry, кролик,” he apologizes as he notices how uncomfortable you’re starting to get. You hum again. He wonders if you were a bird in your past life, perhaps a hummingbird, to be more exact. Or maybe even a swan or a dove because you’re just as beautiful as they are, if not more.

“You know how to behave, right? Потому что ты мой хороший маленький кролик?” he asks, and you don’t understand the second question, but you understand the former. “I know, Master,” you breathe, an airy ending to your words. “You’ll be good, кролик?” he questions one more time, and you lazily nod. You’re tired. Your body moves at a drowsy pace, and you don’t like it.

You don’t want to sleep, though. Scared that if you shut your eyes for too long, the monsters will come back, and Soldat won’t be able to save you. He always saves you. You’re his damsel, constantly in distress, locked away in a gilded cage. But he tells you it’s not a gilded cage. It’s not a run-down cell built in the fifties. It’s your home, even though you haven’t known what home is like for a while.

“I’ll always be good for you, Master. Please don’t leave for long. I get lonely easily,” you express in small bits of sadness and distress. “I know, кролик, я знаю,” Soldat says as he hugs you closer. You tilt your head backwards and let it lull on his shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he promises, and you know it’s not true because he never fulfills it. “But my carrot can’t keep me company for all those hours… Please stay? Please?” you plead with tears welling in your eyes.

“Я могу составить ей хорошую компанию,” the soldier standing outside the cell mutters under his breath, earning a few snickers from his coworkers. I can keep her in good company, is what he said. And it’s truly unfortunate that the guards have forgotten that the Soldat — the Asset — has super-hearing. Their laughter dies down into sighs, and Winter’s chest begins to heave.

He puffs up like the big bad wolf he is, and he tosses you to the side like a rag doll. You watch him as he strides his way over to the guards. Each step carries the weight of the Winter Soldier, the one who’s ready to kill whoever is in his sight. Except for you. His bionic hand reaches through the metal bars that separate him from the outside world.

He wraps his fingers around the guard’s neck, and he squeezes his throat tightly. As Winter crushes the guard’s windpipe, you watch him behind slightly squinted eyelids. Tears blur your eyesight, and you remember that time when you were holding off the tears so well, you couldn't see the HYDRA van driving ahead of you.

Maybe if you could control your emotions a little better, you wouldn’t be here.

But then again, where would you be without the Soldat? Miserable, stuck in the worst parts of town without anyone. Having to drag your hands across those brick walls, again and again. Surviving on your own, teetering on the edge of death. Just like these men at the hands of the Soldat.

The crunching of bones and the screams of men are all blocked out for you. You focus on Soldat’s arm whirring in the most satisfying harmony you’ve heard in the past two years. Other than the orchestra you both have managed to make almost every day. But you still cup your hands over your ears.

Winter pulls a knife from the guard’s limp body. That very same knife ends up inside his heart, stopping it from pumping. The guards begin shooting at Winter, but he easily shields himself with the metal arm. It goes silent, but you keep your hands over your ears. Muffled talking steps in place of the silence, and you look up to see members of HYDRA staring at your Winter and you.

“Солдат, Что ты натворил?” One of the head agents asks. You believe his name is Vasily Karpov because that is what Winter has told you. “The… The guard said something about my кролик. He’s not supposed to,” Winter explains, looking to the ground. Karpov mutters a chain of curse words under his breath that you’re not too happy about. One of the other agents asks him to speak up, and he snaps.

“Just get him to the armoury! We need to prep him,” he shouts before stalking away from the scene. They all stick around a few more seconds before scurrying off like little mice. The dead bodies still lay on the floor, but nobody seems to really care. What’s happened has happened, and there’s no changing it.

“Привести с собой солдата!” A rough voice blasts through the intercoms, and suddenly, more guards show up at your cell. You curl up into a ball and rest your forehead against your knees. You can’t bear to watch them take him away. You wait until the cell door swings shut, and then men stomp away. But even then, you cannot look up.

Bring the Soldat.

He wears that mask of his. The last time you saw it, it was caked with dirt and blood. You can hear his hard breathing behind it, almost sounding as though he’s just run a marathon. He sits in the edge of the cot — the left corner, to be exact — and he watches you. The Soldat states as you look down at the array of snacks he’s provided you with.

“Kролик,” Winter gruffly calls, and you turn around. You hum and your voice raises at the end. You haven’t done that in a while, so it startles him a bit. “Which one?” he asks, stretching his neck out just a bit to see what snack you’ve chosen. “N… Not sure,” you shyly whisper, ducking your head down in fear.

“Green one,” he says after a while, and you place your hand on it. “I don’t know what it is?” you confusingly say. The Russian text on it confuses you, so you hand it to Winter. “ Sour Patch Kids…” Winter reads out loud, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. “Oh, I like those!” you eagerly cheer, sitting up on your knees. You turn around and reach your hand out for him to give them to you.

They’ve wiped him. You know it, and you hate it. They’ve taken all emotion away from him, and now he’s just an empty shell of a man. His softness from just a few hours ago has now gone away, and you don’t know what to expect of himself. But then again, you never do.

Hesitatingly, he hands it over. “Don’t eat now. Sugar will keep you up,” he warns, and you nod. Your father would say the same thing when you were younger. The only difference is that your father had more love in his voice than Winter ever will. “We need to go over the rules,” he speaks up after a few seconds. You hum again, and he continues. “Do you remember your rules?” Winter asks, and you hum once more.

“Кролик,” he growls, and you look up. “Do you need me to repeat the rules?” Winter questions and you shake your head in objection. He doesn’t listen, though, because he knows you don’t remember them. You never seem to remember the big, important parts of the puzzle. Only the small corner pieces that don’t really matter. “I’ll tell you them anyway, and you’re going to listen to every word I say. Understood, кролик?” he raises his eyebrow, not leaving any room for protesting.

You gulp thickly and nod. “Don’t make any noises, don’t touch yourself, don’t talk to the guards, don’t let anyone touch you, don’t hurt yourself and don’t even think of escaping,” he lists, and the last one makes tears sting your eyes. “I won’t escape. ‘S not like I can even do anything in here,” you whisper under your breath, and he stands up. Metal fingers grip your chin tightly, and Winter slowly kneels down in front of you.

You’re watched like a pet. You always have been. Not even a pet, more like a possession. Seen as an object with no feelings and no emotions. As though you don’t have a heart that pumps crimson blood and lungs that expand with each breath you take. “Don’t ever speak like that again. I can easily stitch those pretty lips of yours shut, кролик,” he threatens, and you feel your tears beginning to leak.

No, no, no, no, no. Not now.

He laughs. He fucking laughs, and you want to cry even more because you need him. You need your support, but he doesn’t want to give it to you. You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. “You’re so fucking… precious. Especially when you shed those tears of yours,” he tells you with a hidden smile behind his mask. He squeezes your jaw even tighter, and you whimper out a small ‘thank you, Master’ to him.

“I wasn’t finished listing the rules, so keep your fly shut,” Winter sneers, and you nod your head slowly. “When I get back, which will be in around three hours, you have to finish drinking all those bottles of water,” he stays, snapping his fingers to grab your attention. Your eyes follow those very same fingers as they point at the four bottles of water sitting by the bed.

You never noticed them until just now. “Oh, and you can’t go to the bathroom until I say so,” he adds with a slight humorous chuckle to his voice. Your eyeballs nearly fall out of their sockets. “Don’t worry, кролик, I’ll be back so quickly, it’ll feel like a few minutes,” he promises, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. It reminds you of when you were young, and your parents would take you to the beach.

Your parents would build sandcastles with you until they got tired. You would beg your father to piggyback you into the sea, and he would do exactly that. Your mother would carry her disposable camera with her just to take photos that would end up in the green photo album from the thrift store.

And when you got a bit older, you’d go by yourself—older in the sense that you have to start paying the bus fare of $3. You’d head to the beach after dinner and before your parents came home from work. The sky would either be a dark, dark grey or a lovely mix of pastels. The water would wash beneath your feet, pulling and loosening clumps of sand.

Taking it away the same manner Winter took your innocence.

“And remember, if you break any of these rules, I’ll know. And the outcome won’t be as pretty as your face or that pussy of yours, кролик,” Soldat warns, and you nod your head. “Yes, Master,” you shyly say to him. You want to look down at the concrete flooring so badly, but his iron-clad grip on you doesn’t loosen until a minute after your words. He looks down at you, and you look away. His strong gaze is just as powerful as the summer sun that would beat down on your skin.

“Прощай, кролик.”

You never realized how thirsty you were until just now. You’ve finished all four bottles in the span of two hours, and now you’re counting down the minutes until Soldat arrives. There are no guards standing outside your cell, so you’re all alone. Not even your intrusive thoughts have visited, and you wonder if the water was spiked.

You were never that good at telling time. It would always take you a few seconds to find the minute hand and the hour hand. But the digital clock that is on the wall across from your cell is quite helpful. It even has seconds on it, too. So you count down out loud, trying to ignore the full feeling in your stomach.

Stomping echoes down the hallways, and you don’t know if he’s close by or meters away from you. You never could tell. Russian words fall off the agents’ tongues, and sometimes you wish you could understand them. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel like such an outsider even though you’re trapped in their home. “Ты свободен, солдат,” one of the agents say, and you can hear Winter grunt.

You’re free to go, Soldat.

His big, heavy feet stomp down the hallway. The sounds bounce off the greyish-green walls, stained with different things such as blood and dirt. You can hear his metal arm whirring, and your heart jumps with fear. You’re not scared of him; you’re scared of what he’s capable of.

Oh, who are you kidding? You’re terrified of him.

The guards open up the cell door, and you look up, locking eyes with his. They’re dark and empty as they usually are. “Кролик,” he growls, and you whimper. You run up to him and hug him, feeling the water slosh inside of you. You slow your breathing down the same way your elementary school nurse told you to when you were younger and try your hardest not to throw up.

“Missed me, hm?” Winter questions and you nod meekly. Though you didn’t want to admit it two years ago, you do now. “Missed you lots, Master,” you tell him. The leather is cold against your warm skin. If you focus just a bit more, you could feel the creases of the fabric as well. But you’re too busy with him, so you ignore it. “W- Was the mission good, Master?” you nervously ask him, only out of curiosity and nothing more.

“As always. Were you good, кролик?” Soldat questions in return, rightfully so. You nod eagerly and fiddle with your fingers behind his back. He acts like he can’t feel it, just for you not to stop hugging him. “Good girl… You seem like you want something. Out with it,” he orders, and you gulp in fear.

“I… I was wondering if I could go to the bathroom,” you meekly tell Winter, looking down to the ground. His boots are shiny and polished. Cleaner than anything you’ve seen before, and it’s confusing. He usually comes in covered with dirt, sweat, tears and blood. “You need to go to the bathroom, кролик?” he asks as if he didn’t hear you beforehand.

You shyly nod and unwrap your arms from around his broad torso. You wonder if he left the mission unscathed or not. Winter chuckles. It’s breathy, airy, sly and dark. “Aw, кролик, you’re adorable, the cutest кролик of them all. It’s too bad I’m not going to let you,” he sneers in that faux fantasy tone of his. You furrow your eyebrows and so desperately want to beg him, but it’s out of line, and he never asked, so you stay quiet.

Winter grabs your hand and drags you to the cot, reminding you of the way you’d pull your parents to the shore so they can play in the water with you. They’d both laugh before your father would tackle you in the water, and your mother would push him down in retaliation. You’d always resubmerge from the water with a smile on your face and laughter bellowing throughout the beach.

You miss those times.

You let him guide you to the bed you wish wasn’t yours. “What did you do while I was gone, кролик?” Soldat questions, sitting down on the canvas of the bed. You’re placed on his lap, almost as though he’s forcing you to reclaim a throne you need. And it’s true; you need him. His hands fall to your waist, and Winter holds you in place. “I drank all the water as you asked, and I just sat here, Master,” you recount to him, leaving out the parts of the past three hours he doesn’t need to know.

He hums in the same manner as you. “That’s all?” he questions, and you slowly nod your head. “Good, I’d hate to have to punish you this late in the night,” he says, pinching the skin on your torso. You don’t whimper because you’re used to it. He calls it affection, and so do you. Winter’s hands move from your sides to the front of your stomach, caressing you with a bit of pressure being put on your bladder.

You whimper and try to play it off with a cough, but you know deep down he doesn’t buy it. Soldat continues to run his hand against your stomach the same way you’d run across the shore. Slow, wary, yet with care from the ground beneath you. You like to think of the simpler, more happier times. You know if Winter pushes a little harder, you may not be able to control yourself any longer.

The pressure in your bladder grows every few seconds, so you squirm around in his lap. Your weight shifts from his left thigh to his right thigh, over and over, and he knows exactly what’s wrong. “Кролик… Are you feeling all tingly?” he asks you. You nod your head, but you take in his words. Meanings and implications are always lost with you. They fly over your head the same way birds do, and you only see them with someone's direction.

“N- No, Master, I just have to pee really badly…” you clarify to him, and he nods his head in understanding. You smile as a spark of hope lights inside of your heart. “I don’t think you do, кролик, I already told you,” he assures, and you sigh. “I- I know, Master, I’m sorry,” you apologize and drop your head down. “I think you’re having those tingles, кролик, is your little cunt wet?” Soldat questions even though you don’t have to answer.

His hand travels between your legs and to your pussy, cupping it tightly. You whimper and involuntarily grind against his hand. “You’re absolutely soaked, кролик! Were you thinking of me?” he interrogates, and you just go with it. “Y- Yes, Master, was thinking of you all the time,” you whisper to him. He squeezes your cunt tighter and purrs in your ear. “Then why didn’t you tell me beforehand, кролик?” Winter presses, and you feel fear pump through your veins.

“I- I knew you were tired from the mission, so I didn’t want to bother you, Master. I’m sorry, please forgive me!” you plead, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. Your heart sinks to your stomach with each sound he makes, and you want death to take you right here, right now. The Soldat pushes you to the ground, and you fall with a loud ‘thud!’. Your knees hit the concrete hard, and you can feel your old scars open up a bit.

One was from a poor fall at the beach. Your father carried you home, and your mother tried to soothe you. You were only six at the time, but it felt like your world was ending.

Winter’s metal hand grabs your hair and tugs on your locks painfully. You bite back a pained moan as he yanks your head back. It’s not the first time he has nearly given you whiplash. He changes moods faster than anyone you’ve ever met. The Soldat walks around you, and you follow him with your eyes. “It’s okay, кролик. I’m not mad at you. I’m gonna treat you so well; you’re gonna love me even more,” he promises with a dark glint in his eyes.

He wedges his boot between your legs and underneath your cunt. “Get comfy, шлюха,” he orders. You shift yourself a bit, trying to alleviate any aches you feel, but it seems as though he wants you to be uncomfortable. Your pussy rests on his foot, and you wonder what he’s up to. His hand tilts your head to look up at him. You want to look away, just like when you’d look at the bright sun on a hot summer day. It was always too much to look at, but the sight was so captivating you couldn’t turn away.

“You said you wanted to go pee, right, маленькая потаскушка?” he questions, and you confusingly nod. “Then go ahead, do it,” he orders. You gasp, quite loudly, in fact. The reaction doesn’t please your Master, so he yanks on your hair a little tighter. “What’s wrong, сука? I thought that’s what you needed?” he interrogates, and you nod. “Yes, Master, but not like this,” you reason, and he growls. “I give you protection, I give you food, I give you my cum, I give you everything you need. What’s wrong now? Don’t you love me?” Winter asks.

Your heart quite literally breaks in two.

“I do, Master! I love you so much!” you promise, feeling those stupid tears of yours starting to well up. “Then why aren’t you listening to me, you dumb baby? Hm?” he presses, and panic begins to rise in your chest. The tears stream down your face the same way the waves would engulf you at the age of 7. “It’s just uncomfortable, Master, that’s all…” you reason with him. “Well, I don’t care. You’re gonna do it anyway, okay? I thought you were a good bunny for me…” Winter trails off as if he’s lost all hope and cause.

It makes you want to cry even harder.

Sniffling, you wipe your tears and try not to give up. “I am your good bunny, Master. Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to!” you beg once again, and he grows weary of your patheticness. Winter bends down, and his flesh hand goes to the front of your flimsy shirt. Thin cotton rips away easily, with barely any strength coming from his behalf. The grey cloth is in two pieces, and he pushes them off your shoulders.

Your nipples harden as soon as the cool air brushes against them. Winter’s hand leaves your head, and you feel alone without his touch. “Seems like you forgot your place, кролик… You don’t get what you want; you get what you deserve. And what you deserve is to be put in your place,” he tells you, and your bones rattle with fear. The sound of a belt clinking and a zipping being pulled down grabs your attention, and you hold back a hearty sigh.

The Soldat stares you down as he throws his belt to the side just like he did you a few hours ago. “I can’t believe you, honestly. Думая, что ты так выше меня, пытаясь помешать мне делать то, что я хочу. After this, you’re going to regret ever talking back to me like that ever again,” he rants under his breath like the mad man he is. Your tears have dried up, but your bottom lip starts to wobble again. He huffs, tired of seeing you cry.

Winter halts his movements and goes to remove his mask, the one thing that’s been hiding that sinister smirk of his. The dark, matte material is clutched between the tips of his cut-up, bruised fingers. He carefully places the mask on your face, covering your mouth and nose. The action shuts you up, just like how he wants. You look up at him without blinking your tears away. You let them fall and soak the mask, staining it with your waterworks.

The Soldat pulls his big, thick cock out of his tactical pants. His cock is as hard as a rock, blooding pumping down to it, and his veins throb on the side of his shaft. Beads of precum drip down from his tip, rolling down his cock. He’s a raging red, desperate to be inside of you. His metal head returns to your head, and he brings you higher up in your knees. Your neck cranes at such a painful angle that the ache in your knees is ignored.

“You better fucking look at me while I teach you your lesson, шлюха,” he warns, and you listen to him easily. Through your haze of pained tears, you manage to look into his eyes. You’re not sure what he wants to do and what he’s going to do. You never do. The Soldat is unpredictable, and even in your two years of knowing him, you’ll never understand how the gears in his mind turn.

“Not so dumb after all, huh,” he chuckles before shaking his head. Winter sighs and smiles down at you. “One last chance, шлюха,” he tells you in a sing-song voice. You don’t say anything, and the Soldat clicks his tongue. Suddenly, instead of the delicious precum, he would usually make you lap up like a kitten, clear streams of warmth hit your chest. You gasp behind the mask, but it comes out as muffled nonsense to him.

“Stop!” you cry out to him, but your words are once again muffled. His pee soaks your chest as he relieves himself from the pressure in his bladder. Your hands bat at his stiff thighs, hitting them just so that he can stop humiliating you and treating you like you’re all but human. Winter growls, and his metal arm drops your head, and he slaps your hands away. His pee covers your tits and drips down your skin, staining you with disgust and humiliation.

The streams soon stop, and you’re sobbing even louder now. “Oh shut it, this isn’t even as bad of a punishment. I’m going easy on you, шлюха, I could easily do worse,” Soldat growls as the slightly tinted liquid drips from the tip and onto the ground. Your chest stutters with sobs, and you can barely breathe. You’re covered and coated like a freshly bought canvas, and Winter’s just ruined you. Almost in the same manner that you’d destroy your father’s canvas with your cheap, dollar store paint.

Winter bends down and grabs what was once your shirt and is now just a piece of cloth. Kind of like how your mother would give you any leftover scraps of fabric to make something for you. She’d never let anything go to waste. He uses it to wipe the drops of urine that still drip from his cock, and then he throws it at you like you mean nothing to him. You let it fall to the ground because there’s no possible way a piece of cloth that was once on your back can fix your honour.

But who are you kidding? You lost your honour the moment you gave into the Soldat, just like you always do.

You stretch your arms out to him, silently pleading for comfort from him. But he shakes his head with a sly smile on his face. “Aw, you want your Master to help you out, мой питомец?” Winter questions, and you eagerly nod your head. His metal hand goes to remove the mask, but he stops as soon as he touches it. “Say please,” he orders with faux sympathy in his voice. “Please, Master,” you beg to him, and he smiles.

Winter places his hand back on the mask and yanks it off of your face. The sides scratch your cheeks a bit, but that’s not what matters. “T- Thank you, Master. I love you so much,” you tell him before struggling to put a smile on your face. At the end of the day, no matter how brutal he is with you, you’ll always love him. ...Right? “You’re welcome, кролик,” he says as he throws the mask to where his belt lies.

Your cheeks are sticky and stained with tears, much like your chest. Winter’s flesh hand cups your left cheeky lightly, and he’s back to being the gentleman who has killed for you on numerous occasions. He wipes away the wetness on your cheek as his other hand goes to his cock, grabbing the base of it. “Say ‘ah,’ моя маленькая шлюшка,” he orders before you can even register his signature Cheshire smirk.

His cock is shoved inside your mouth without any warning. He always does that. No heads up, no preparation, nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. Winter wiggles his foot that’s underneath your cunt, and the sudden friction is startling. He calls you bunny because of this reason. You can get off on anything, and you’re always needy for him. “I can see how wet you are, шлюха. You’re soaking my boot with that little pussy of yours,” he coos.

You don’t realize how wet you are until he points it out. You’re absolutely soaking, and you’re not sure why. But for the utmost incomprehensible reason ever, you don’t care.

His cock slides down your throat until your nose nuzzles against his pubic bone. His balls touch your chin, and your saliva coats his cock thickly. Your throat and side of your kissable mouth both hurt horribly, but you ignore the pain just for him. “You’re my good little bunny, right?” he questions, and you nod while his cock rests on your tongue. “And good little bunnies like you always listen to their Masters, right?” Winter asks, and you nod again.

He smiles. His hand on your cheeks moves to the back of your head slowly, returning to its newfound home. “I bet you want to come, don’t you, кролик?” he interrogates, and he’s not wrong. You really do want to come, and you’re a bit ashamed of it. “Master will let you come, don’t worry. I’m gonna let you have cummies, кролик,” he promises, and you happily giggle around his cock.

“Go on, hump my boot like the little bunny you are,” he pushes, and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. You want to protest so badly, but the memories of what he just did to you freshly flood your mind like the memories from when you were younger. “Are you that stupid that I have to explain how to get yourself off? Or are you just not listening to me, кролик?” he asks in a tone that reminds you of subdued thunder.

You shake your hand and try to move your hips around a bit. Your soaking wet pussy grinds against the leather of Winter’s shoe, and your clit throbs at the feeling. Winter’s cock slides out of your mouth until the fat tip of it is all that’s left, and then he quickly shoves it back in. Your loud gags and his moans fill the room like music. Your loss of oxygen makes you see stars, and you can recall how much your father loved to paint the midnight skies until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

Your old toothbrushes would serve as the home of the clouds of dust that the stars would be born from. His fingers would be covered in white paint that would fall off in the water and swirl down the sink. His black t-shirts would have white freckles on them, and your mother would always suggest for him to turn the cloth into a galaxy. He’d always tell her one day, and you’d always remind him of that day whenever you’d catch him painting.

“Fuck, you always do look even prettier with my cock in your mouth, кролик,” he swears, and you smile around his cock. Oh, well, you at least try to smile. You continue to rub yourself against his boot as he uses your throat as he pleases. Your hole drools with want, and your slick gives his shoe a shine that is unmatched by any other substance. The burning, fiery feeling on your clit spreads to your abdomen, and you can feel yourself being brought closer to the edge.

You’re moaning around his thick cock, sending sinful vibrations throughout him. “Fuck, are you gonna come, кролик?” he questions as he feels you hug his leg. You nod around his cock, and he begins to push your head back and forth of his cock, matching your desperate movements. He uses you like a fleshlight, and you’re used to it. “Well, too fucking bad, шлюха, you’re not allowed to come,” he spits, and your hips freeze in place.

“I didn’t say stop, did I? No, I didn’t, continue, шлюха,” he sneers, and you listen to the Soldat. You’re not sure how you’re going to stave off your orgasm, but you’ll do anything for him. You slowly begin to grind your hips back and forth on his boot again, trying to slow your breathing down, and Winter fucks your face sloppily. “Fuck, you want my cum, don’t you, кролик?” he questions, and you squeeze his leg tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out abruptly and pinches the base, staving off his release only for a few seconds. “I said, don’t you want my cum, шлюха?” he asks once again, and you nod. Saliva coats your mouth, and you can barely catch your breath. “I- I really want your cum, Master, please! Please give me your cum,” you plead to him with a ditzy look in your eyes. You wiggle your hips side to side just to give off the impression that you’re getting yourself off.

But you can’t fool the fooler. Nobody can.

“I’m going to give you all my cum, шлюха, and you’re going to take it all like a good girl,” he moans as he shoves his cock back into your mouth. Winter shoves himself deep inside your throat until you can’t take any more of his length. You swallow around his cock, and he moans loudly, swearing in Russian. The words roll off his tongue skillfully, and you feel yourself getting even wetter.

He grabs your head even tighter and bobs your skull up and down his cock a few more times before finally hitting his release. His balls tighten up, and a deep, throaty moan leaves his mouth in the best way ever. Hot, sticky ropes spurt down your throat before you can even register the way he throws his head back. Winter’s long hair spills on the sides of his head as his cum spills down your throat. You have no choice but to swallow, but it’s not like you want to spit his seed out anyways.

Winter lets out a deep moan that goes straight to your core, and his hand pats your head in a praising manner. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl,” he praises as he slowly pulls his sensitive cock out of your mouth. Your cunt flutters with sensitivity, and you want to come so badly, but you just can’t. The Soldat takes a few steps back, slipping his foot away from your aching pussy. You let out a whimper, and he smiles.

“I’m not done with you, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and your heart flutters. You’ve managed to ignore the building pressure in your bladder, but now it seems to come back stronger. “C- Can I go pee first, Master?” you politely ask him, still on your knees. Even that ache has returned, but it’s the least important thing as of now. He ignores your question as he works on the numerous straps on his battle uniform.

Skillful fingers take off the leather vest he wears, revealing a bulletproof protectant that saves him from certain dangers. “Get on the bed, кролик,” Winter orders as he continues to strip himself. You begin to stand up on your wobbly, scarred legs, but he tuts. “Uh uh, not like that,” he interjects, walking back to you. He pushes you back onto the floor, and you fall with a sob. “On your knees, because that’s what you deserve. Nothing more, шлюха,” he sneers, and you sniffle.

You slowly crawl to the bed. Each time your knees touch the ground, you burn up with both arousal and humiliation. And it’s not like the action is making your need to go to the bathroom any better. The abrupt movement makes the liquid slosh inside you, and you want to burst out in tears, begging Winter to just let you relieve yourself. Your hands have slight scars from your nails, and it reminds you of when your father would encourage you to do the monkey bars.

You’d always try to swing yourself to the end with all your might. But you never could do it. You’d fall down to the ground and leave the park wailing. The scars and blisters on your hand would make your parents so upset, but that never stopped you from wanting to go back and try again. Eventually, you got too old to try, and it would always upset you. Maybe one day you’ll be able to try again— one day.

You hear zippers unzipping and velcro cracking behind you as you get on the bed. The coolness of the sheets is so refreshing against your hot skin. It soothes you for a few seconds, but it eventually loses its worth. You turn around and face him with a sort of dumbfounded look on your face. He fucking loves it; Winter always does. He’s naked, fully naked, and even his signature tactical boots have been discarded.

If you squint, you could see the way your wetness shines on his boot. “Good girl, such as good little bunny,” he praises, and you can feel yourself get flustered. Winter climbs onto the bed, staring you dead in the eyes. He kneels in front of you with a wicked smirk, and he brings his flesh hand up to your throat. You let out a gasp as he squeezes your neck tightly before he leans in closer to you.

The Soldat’s face is just a mere few centimetres away from yours. You can feel each breath that he takes against your skin. His hard cock rests against your sticky chest, and he’s still hard as fuck. “Open your mouth, кролик,” he orders, and you instantly do so. You wait for his cock to be stuffed in your mouth once again, but it never comes. You watch as he puckers his lips up before spitting right by your mouth.

You choke in surprise as his saliva slowly drips into your mouth, landing on your sore tongue. You whimper at the feeling, and Winter has a proud smile on his face. He pulls his head away from yours, in the same manner your father would whenever he’d finish one of his masterpieces. “Swallow it all, кролик, I know you want to,” he orders in a sing-song voice.

You follow his demand obediently. You can’t lie; the sheer act of him spitting in your mouth and forcing you to swallow it makes you even wetter. You’d take anything he gives you. “You’re such a good girl, you know that right?” he questions, and your chest heaves. Winter’s cock twitches against you, and you so desperately want him inside you. But there’s nothing you want more than to go relieve yourself.

His metal hand comes up to your face, and you think he’s going to lovingly hold you. You absolutely adore it when he strokes your cheeks. The Soldat’s thumb touches the soft yet slightly sweaty skin of your face and moves back and forth. Chills run down your spine, and you smile into his touch. He suddenly pulls his hand away, and he strikes you roughly. You let out a cry as your skin stings and prickles from the hit.

He does it again and again until your tears soak his hand. Your cheek is practically numb from the pain. You can feel his cock leaking with cum, and you know that he’s going to fuck you, just like you want him to. “Did you forget your manners?” Winter harshly questions, and you quickly shake your head. “T- Thank you, Master,” you whisper to him, and he smiles.

“Master… Can I please go to the bathroom? Please, it hurts,” you beg to him, but he just shakes his head. “P- Please, Master? I’ll be a good girl, I promise!” you plead to him as your tears run down your face even quicker. He ignores your cries for relief, and he instead slams you onto the bed. Your mind is a mess as he combs on top of you, and the aches you have only get stronger.

The hand that was slapping some sense into you finds a new home on your stomach, right above your swollen bladder. He pushes down on your stomach slightly, and you kick your legs. “Shh, none of that, no, stop it,” he shushes, and you try your hardest to not let go right there and then. “Master knows what you need, okay? And right now, you need my cock, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and you sob.

The hand on your throat moves to his cock, and he grabs his thick base. The veins on the side throb with need, and in one thrust, he bottoms out inside you. You barely have the time to register what’s just happened. The painful stretch of his cock radiates throughout your core, and you dig your nails into the scarred skin of your palms. His tip nudges against your g-spot, and you coat his cock with your wetness.

Winter is buried inside you to the hilt, filling you up to the brim. His swollen, heavy balls rest against your ass, and you both try to get used to the connection. The painful stretch dulls down to an exquisite pleasure, and Winter loves the way your tight cunt gets used to his thick cock. He’s splitting you in two, but he simply does not care. His hand returns back to your throat, and this time, he squeezes the sides of your neck even tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out until his fat tip is the only thing resting inside of your pussy. He slams back into you roughly, and you let out a cry. Your jaw falls slack as the Soldat begins to fuck into your relentlessly. His balls slap against your ass, and your loud, short-lived moans fill the cell that you’ve grown to love. “Fucking hell, кролик, your pussy feels so good,” he growls, slamming into you even harder.

Your tits bounce with every movement he makes. The pleasure sears through your body as Winter hammers against your poor g-spot with each thrust he makes. “Master, please, I need to go really badly,” you beg to him as he continues to fuck you. He shakes his head in objection before pushing down on your stomach even harder. You let out a wail and try to squirm away, but you only worsen things for yourself.

“No, you don’t, кролик. The only thing you need is my cock,” the Soldat tells you, and you upsettingly toss your head back. “No, Master, please, I don’t wanna make a mess,” you reason with him, but he just doesn't seem to want to listen. “I know that, кролик, but you need to listen to me, okay? You don’t need to go; you just need me,” he growls lowly, and you can feel him pushing harder on your bladder.

“No- Wait, Master, please stop pushing on me,” you implore to him as a moan follows your words. Your silky, wet cunt hugs his cock as the tingly feeling in your bladder becomes stronger. You want to cross your legs and stop it from growing, but you can’t. Pressure builds up in your core, and you’re not sure if you’re going to come or if you’re going to make a mess and humiliate yourself.

“Let go, мой тупой ребенок, I know you want to so badly. You can make a mess, do it,” Winter urges, and you shake your head. “No, Master, please stop it,” you cry to him, but he only fucks you harder. One specific thrust hits your cervix, and you yell out in pain before even realizing what’s happened. Warmth trickles down your thighs and onto his cock. You let out a wail as humiliation blossoms from your soul.

Though there’s nobody else watching, you’re still embarrassed. And that wicked smirk on Winter’s face does nothing to help you out. The sound of it makes your back sweat, and you want the ground to open up and take you home. Your urine wets the sheets beneath you, and your tears wet your face. “God, look at you. You finally got what you wanted, and here you are, crying like a fucking brat. You’re so ungrateful. Do you even deserve my cum?” he questions with disgust on his tongue.

You struggle to nod, but you do it anyway. The last thing you need is to have your Master upset with you. “‘M sorry, Master, please forgive me,” you plead to him. You continue to relieve yourself, and he continues to fuck you despite the mess you’re making in his shaft. “Такой грязный, глупый малыш. Ты такой жалкий, ты же знаешь это, да?” he questions even though you only know one simple word of Russian. You moan loudly as you slowly stop making a mess and begin to feel your orgasm building up.

“Aw, are you gonna come, кролик?” Winter asks you in a condescending tone, one that makes you even wetter. The lewd sounds that come from your pussy as just as humiliating as what you’ve just done, but you don’t care. You’re too busy getting fucked stupid. “Fuck, I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my cum; watch it leak out of you. You always do look prettier when you’re filled up with my cum,” he moans as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“Master, ‘m gonna c- come,” you whimper to him, laying in your own piss. “Go ahead, шлюха, come on my cock. You already made a mess on me twice, might as well do it for the third time,” Winter growls, moving the hand that lays on your stomach. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you closer towards his cock. Hot flames lick at your abdomen as you hit your climax, seeing stars in your vision.

Your reality is warped as you can barely make out the look on Winter’s face. Darkness takes over your vision in the same manner as the clouds would take over the skies on those hot summer days. They would hide the pretty sun for a few minutes, and then they’d leave eventually. Your pussy clamps down on his cock tightly as you coat him with your juices, making him moan.

You wail loudly as you clench around him, making him groan. “Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he asks without waiting for an answer. You nod as he fucks you through your orgasm, not even caring about how overstimulated you are. His cock slips in and out of you with ease and his thrusts begin to grow sloppy. “Tell me how much you want my cum,” he demands, fucking you even slower.

“I- I want your cum really badly, Master. I need it so badly; please fill me up with your cum!” you politely beg to you as you come down from your much-needed high. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up so nicely, кролик, you’re gonna beg me to fuck you again,” Winter husks as his balls tighten up. A string of Russian words leave his mouth, and you have to assume that it’s all foul language.

Warm, white ropes of cum paint your walls as he pushes deep inside your cunt while coming. Winter’s blue eyes squeeze shut, and you both moan at the feeling. He fills you up just like he promised, and you bite down on your lips. Everything has dried, and you feel disgusted, so you try to focus on the way his cum pumps inside you. His cock stays inside you, but he doesn’t soften at all, and you know what that means. Winter falls on top of your sticky chest with a sigh, and tears sting your eyes.

Though he says you need him, you wonder if that’s really true.

[emile-hides]

Crybaby imagines

I can’t find any BNHA X Reader blogs with their requests open, so heck it. Make the content you want to see in the world.

MHA Blonde boys react to reader crying (for various reasons)

Characters: All Might, Present Mic, Fatgum, Aoyama, Ojiro, Kaminari, Bakugo, Honenuki, Monoma, Mirio

All Might

1-A is an amazing bunch

It sort of just all hit you like a truck, really

How much 1-A had grown, how much they’d overcame

You’re not even entirely sure what sparked the thought process

But once it stared, you couldn’t stop

You were just so?? Proud??? Amazed???

Suddenly you were crying at your desk in the teacher’s lounge

Quiet, heavy tears

Your co-workers took notice, but it was Toshinori who approched your first asking what was wrong

You hadn’t even noticed you were crying

When you get into the why he’s all ears

He sits next to you and is soon joining in on the kid’s progress

He talks mostly about Bakugo and Midoriya, you go on about Asui and Koda

It turns to laughing and quietly bullying the kids for a moment as you two enjoy some of the sillier memories

Soon Toshinori, too, has tears in his eyes

He sobs more than you did

He’s just so proud of these kids!!

You feel like an old married couple talking about their 30-something kids living far from home

Kind of silly considering they’re all 15 and currently in class right down the hall

You two have to go see them during lunch break

Present Mic

Crying in Solidarity

You stood with Hizashi in front of a grave of a kid you never knew on an overcast day

He’d normally make a comment about the weather matching the mood but...

Not now

His fists were clenched, and though his smile stood strong and his glasses hid his eyes

They couldn’t catch his tears

You held his hand in silence and pretended not to notice the falling of his facade 

It happens very seldom

He was shaking, you could hear his breath hitch hard despite his attempts to remain calm

You didn’t know this Shirokumo kid, you’d never met him, you couldn’t pick him out in a crowd if you had to

You didn’t even know who he was to Hizashi

But you knew it tore him up inside that he was buried here

You knew he kept his emotions well contained for everything else but him

You pulled Hizashi a bit closer, letting him lean onto you as tears began to run down your cheeks

The two of you stood in silence and cried on this, an overcast day

The weather really did match your mood.

Fatgum

Crying in relief

The hospital door opened with a loud slam

You didn’t really mean to slam it so hard but now wasn’t the time to go apologizing to inanimate objects for being a little rough

Your voice shrilled even louder than the door the name of the patient laying on the bed in the center of the room

Taishiro looked up with a face of ‘Oh shit’ which was the correct face to have

You were mad for all of the time it took to yell about how worried you were

FIRST OF ALL he didn’t even call to tell you he was in the hospital, you got that information from Tamaki

Second, you barely even know what HAPPENED to land him here

And THIRD,

Nope. Anger’s gone. Evaporated like a puddle in mid July.

Taishiro had sat up in his bed with a nervous smile, peppering in the nicknames and speaking in the gentle voice as he reached out to console you

Just seeing him sit up, his arms bandaged lightly around the wrist

It all just came crashing in

He was fine. 

Tears over flowed as you cried a bit louder than you had yelled previously

Hiccuping and gasping out how worried you were and how mad you still wanted to be

Taishiro just laughed an apology as he hugged you, thankful for your concern

He promised to call next time

You found yourself yelling at him to never do this again

Aoyama

Crying on command

Acting was something you had mastered

More or less anyway

You dove head first into a role and you were damn good at it

But everyone has weaknesses

You’d locked yourself in Aoyama’s room, going over lines and choreography for some little play in the park you two had signed up for

Now you sat on his floor as he painted your nails, glaring daggers into the script

You had to cry. 

It seemed so easy. Think of something sad and cry over it on stage. Simply.

and yet your eyes remained dry, your stage make-up perfect

Aoyama had been couching you, weeping all sorts of tears for your amusment

It wasn’t helping

You turned your glare to Aoyama, who was completely enthralled in drawing tiny art pieces into your nails

God he was bright

....bright.....

You looked directly up at the light on the ceiling and stared

Your eyes wide you forced yourself not to blink

It hurts

And it worked

You looked back to Aoyama with tears streaming down your face and searing pain in your retina

He applauded your dedication

Ojiro

It’s all just a lot

You weren’t really sure when it all became so much

But everything you’d been working at and training for suddenly weighed more than you could bare

You found yourself in the middle of the UA empty halls, flat on the ground on your stomach

Tripping was the breaking point

The straw that broke the camel’s back, as they say

You just started sobbing

When you heard footsteps coming you just kind of... wiggled out of the way

Pressing yourself to the wall you just continued to cry to yourself, curled in a ball, expecting the other person to just pass you by

Instead a soft white handkerchief gently pressed to your cheek, followed by a quiet “Are you okay?”

You were not okay.

Ojiro sat himself beside you as you wiped your face, continuing to sob

You didn’t offer an explanation, he didn’t ask for one

He sat in the hall quietly with you, his tail giving the occasional swish to brush your cheek of tears

The silence gave to time to catch your breath, and realize class probably started a long time ago

When you got up to be on your way, he joined you

He didn’t offer to walk you where you needed to go, he simply did

His quiet wave, his silent smile, his patient glances at you

It all made everything feel just a bit lighter

The next time you’d see Ojiro in the halls, he’d smile at you

And he’d be delighted if you could smile back

Kaminari

Crying from shock

It was just a little zap to the hip, a little bee sting

He’d been doing it to everyone in class, learned it from some stupid tiktok

When it was your turn to get stung, you let out the loudest yelp in the class

He laughed at first, proudly proclaiming how he’d gotten you

Until you whipped to him with fury in your eyes, along with tears

His panicked “Shit, wait, I’m sorry” fell on deaf ears as you quickly gave him a return jab in the hip

Without the actual shock part it probably wasn’t as painful

So you did it a few more times for good measure

Then he jabbed you again

And it was on

Jabs to the hip turned to jabs to the gut, armpit, neck, even right dead center in his chest

You were both in pain and sure to be covered in bruises when Iida finally separated you two

It was hard to see with the tears swelling in both your eyes

But when Denki made direct eye contact with you before giving a glance to Iida, you knew

You nodded, an evil smirk crossing your face

The two of you took your index and middle fingers, driving them quickly and roughly into the class rep’s hips simultaneously

His yelp had the entire class laughing

It then also had the entire class in study hall for the rest of break

Bakugo

He’s just kind of a dick

Standing outside of class 1-A you felt as though your heart was beating in your throat

When the door opened you jumped out of your skin as a green haired boy came out at full speed

He managed to stop on a dime before slamming into you though

You choked out the courage to ask him if Katsuki Bakugo was in class

The kid before you stared in shock before turning around and calling for a “Kacchan”, telling him someone was here to see him

You glanced in the door and watched as several people pried the man you wanted to see from his seat, shoving him forcefully to the door

They all then slammed the door behind him, keeping the green haired kid who seemed in a rush to leave trapped inside

He barked a what at you that made you reconsider all your choices

Still. You swallowed all your courage, and said what you came here to say.

You confessed your feelings to Bakugo, bravely. 

He stared at you with a face of utter confusion, and it managed to catch you a bit off guard

He looked like he didn’t know how to respond

Which he, of course, didn’t.

So he responded the only way he really knows how

Anger.

“WHO THE HELL EVEN ARE YOU?!”

He called you some background extra. What gave you even the slightest though he’d want to be with some nobody he didn’t even know the name of

Within seconds of his screaming the 1-A doors slammed open yet again

The group who’d peeled Bakugo from his seat before jumped from the room and began wrestling him into submission, berating him for his treatment of you

But you were inclined to agree with him

You told them it was fine. He was right, you were just some nobody

You couldn’t stop your voice from shaking, tears streaming from your eyes as you gripped tightly at your shirt

Not knowing really what else to do, you turned and ran away

It was well over a few hours later, and you were still crying alone in the court yard

You flinched at the sound of footsteps approaching you. You closed your eyes and planned to make a run for it somewhere else to avoid bothering anyone

“Hey, dumbass,” a hand placed on your forehead, pulling you back to lean on the person behind you, “You could do a lot better than an ass like me.”

You glanced at Bakugo, who was looking far into the distance, his ears red

You cried and apologized. He didn’t say much else, but his hand remained on you, keeping you in place

You found yourself invited out more, running around with Bakugo and his friends, being rowdy and dumb as teens should be

Your crush on Katsuki Bakugo soon became a distant memory as he grew to be one of your closest friends

Honenuki

Yawning

You flopped dramatically onto the common room couch and let out the loudest, most drawn out sigh you could muster

This act of pure drama drew the attention of Juzo Honenuki, who simply chuckled at your antics

You stretched like a cat across the couch, reaching for him lazily with one hand, you swatted at the book he’d been comfortably reading

He gave another chuckle and inquired what you were after

You answered with an equally dramatic and drawn out yawn, bringing tears to your eyes as you again stretched to him

You then closed your eyes and snuggled into a couch pillow

Honenuki’s hand stretched across the couches and found itself on your head, giving gentle pets back and forth

Once he found himself a good stopping point, Honenuki put his bookmark in place and snapped the book closed

He gave a stretch and a yawn before encouraging you to your feet

You lazily tangled your arms around one of his and draped yourself over him

The two of you walked to your separate dorm rooms arm in arm, occasionally letting out more and more exasperated yawns and sleepy giggles

Monoma

Crying from pain

This was... probably your fault?

You remembered running into Awase from class 1-B while going a bit too fast though the halls

Next thing you knew you were in front of him, on your ass, staring up at him upside down

It took a minute for the pain to register, but as soon as it did tears stung your eyes

You couldn’t even really say anything as Awase’s eyes filled with panic when he’d realized what he’d done, quickly dropping your arm and stepping back, probably planning to make a run for it

The is until his blond classmate came up behind him, pressuring him to apologize in a loud, negging tone

When Awase again avoided your eyes, opting to shove his hands in his pockets as he glared at the wall, Monoma dropped to his knees and offered you assistance

The question of “Do you need to go to the nurse?” was accompanied with a handkerchief dabbed at your eyes

Monoma helped you to your feet, apologizing for his classmate, assuring you you were fine and didn’t need to report this to a teacher because you were clearly fine look at you you’re fine

I mean you weren’t bleeding so... Yeah? You were fine.

He sounded like he’d be the one in trouble if you told someone about Awase self defense flipping you over his shoulder

When he offered again to walk you to the nurse, you declined

He was right, you were fine, just a bit sore

You wiped the tears from your eyes and thanked him for his concern as you walked passed him

You also apologized to Awase for bumping into him, though he just huffed a response

You didn’t get very far when you heard quick steps following close behind

Monoma was just checking in to make sure you for sure weren’t going to tell anyone class 1-B’s Awase threw you like a rag doll

He also just figured while he was here he’d ask if there was anything he could do to make up for this incident

Like... buy you lunch sometime.... Or take you out to a nice cafe he knows after school... maybe...?

He just. Didn’t want you to think class B does hit and runs like this on all the pretty students

Mirio

Crying from laughing

Your sides hurt

You gripped onto yourself as you leaned onto Mirio, cackling harder than you had in a while

He was retelling some jokes he’d gone over with Sir Nighteye at his internship today, regaling you, Tamaki, and Nejire with perfect one-liners and horrid puns

You all were laughing far too hard for this late at night

Tears pricked your eyes as you slapped at Mirio’s leg, gasping for breath you begged for a time out

You have the most contagious laugh, Mirio was positive his jokes only ever landed because you laughed at them so easily

When you finally caught your breath you sat up, rubbing giggly tears from your eyes

You gave a glance around the room and found Tamaki doing the same, though his tears were from the yawn he’d just given

All three of you watched Tamaki adorably shifts as he rubbed the tired from his eyes, something he flushed over when he’d finally noticed the attention

Nejire declared that meant bedtime and hopped from her seated position, pulling Tamaki along with her

In a matter of moments she was dragging the tired boy out of the room to their own dorms

You and Mirio chuckled at her antics before you too got up to get going

Mirio offered to walk you to your dorm, which wasn’t far down the hall, but he made such a show of it how could you say no?

Of course he spent the whole walk telling even more terrible jokes that continued to crack you up

By the time you’d gotten to your dorm you were so giggly you couldn’t see straight

Mirio waved as he turned and walked the 5 feet back to his own room

He then turned around and waved again, claiming he already misses you

You giggled at him and returned to your own room

He loved your laugh.

[toxic-gorgon]

Yandere Dio Brando x Reader: Useless

Synapsis: You are one of the last hamon users and while the practice itself has died along Lisa Lisa, except for a tiny handful of users. While most are willing to allow their gifts to die out and go about their daily lives, you want to put yours to good use and join the crusaders.

Content Warning: Extremely dark themes, click the read more at your own risk! Non-con, blood, yandere Dio, depression/hopelessness, corruption kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, talks of su*cide, violence, and extremely spicy themes. 18+, minors DNI! By continuing to read, you understand the risk.

When you joined the Speedwagon Foundation, you knew the chances of you dying for Mr. Joestar’s cause was almost inevitable. Your gifts were nothing compared to the powerful and unique stands that you came across during the start of your journey. You were one of the last remaining hamon users, but instead of allowing it to fizzle out like the others who trade their gifts for normal lives, you wanted to help and be useful! Lisa Lisa long passed and you heard stories of how hamon saved the world. Allowing hamon to die was allowing a part of yourself to die. 

Hamon was useless against stands, but worked wonders against humans and vampires. However, you primarily used yours for healing and support! The crusaders could use all the help they could get, so it made sense when the directors approached you for the task. Their lives are in your hands, and if it means to put an end to the vampyric Dio’s reign, then you’ll do your part and make sure these boys stay alive.

That’s what you thought at the beginning, back before your days meshed together and all time seemed to stagnate. 

You weren’t sure how many days it’s been since you first arrived in this suffocating manor in Cairo. The dark and coldness inside the manor contrasts the warm and vibrant colors outside your window during the day. You were ever the spunky one when you first arrived, you knew your friends were well on their way and you had no problem voicing that fact loudly in Dio’s presence. He would scoff, flashing you an amused grin, after all you were (as what he puts it) like a fangless, clawless feline. You don’t pose any real threat, but it’s cute to see you try. 

Dio is every bit what the rumors said. His raw charisma and power alone should frighten you, but that’s just one piece of the puzzle that’s Dio Brando. His beauty was truly breathtaking, much more so in person, his shirtless form proudly displayed like a painting hung carefully in the Louvre. His voice charmingly suave, almost a mesmerizing melody that beckons you closer like a siren’s call that you can’t block out. Worst of all was his eyes, that piercing gaze of his that can see right through you, all your worst fears and highest hopes, nothing can be hidden from this man. 

When you first arrived at his mansion, you were awestruck. Cat-got-your-tongue indeed as you drank in the imposing monster of a man, your enemy. What could he possibly want from you? His smirk makes your chest clench as the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You wanted to run, and you would’ve if it wasn’t for you being so goddamned weak. You were completely at his fucking mercy, all he had to do was give the word and you would meet your end. You expected to die right then and there, surely a man like Dio would take out his enemy while he had the chance, just so later down the line it won’t bite him in the ass. You weren’t sure if it was out of pity or amusement, but your death never came. Instead, the cocky asshole smriks and gives you his blessing to tour his home. Hell, he even allowed you access to his library, on the grounds that if you did decide to run, you would be all too easy to catch. You were convinced this man had no real plan for you being here, besides making things much harder for the crusaders by stealing away their healer. 

You were determined to keep your head held high and wait for your knights in shining armor. 

But now, you’re just a shallow husk of despair. All the hope and conviction you had died little by little as the days went by, as those dark thoughts that Dio would mock you with began to take root. There’s no point in brainwashing you when your conviction can be shattered so easily. During the day, Vanilla Ice and Pet Shop watch over you. You absolutely loathe Vanilla Ice. His blind devotion towards his master churned your stomach, all the while he’s looking down on you and lack of stand ability. His words stung, but now they mirror static, background noise for your chaotic thoughts. 

Pet Shop was your preferred caretaker. He’s a bird, so he can’t talk like your other wardens. However, you could’ve sworn you saw that bird smirk once or twice, and his steely gaze mirrored his cocky yet powerful master. Perhaps the bird was silently judging you, even mocking you for being more caged than he was. After all, Pet Shop was allowed to move past the mansion’s windows and enjoy the fresh air and sun, even though he stayed within his bounds. A murder hawk has more freedom than you do.

The nights are always the worst. Screams of ecstasy or pain, you weren’t sure which anymore, filled the halls. After a while of being imprisoned, they all sound the same. How long before you’re next? You felt like it was any day now, and eventually your captor will grow bored of your constant banter. Perhaps that would be for the best, you’re dead weight anyway as long as you remain here.

Your friends were on a mission to save Holly, which you admit is more important than rescuing you. You knew the risk after when you joined this crusade, you just didn’t think it would end here in the lion’s den. You contemplated jumping out the window, not caring how painful the initial impact would be. You always decide against it, and instead sit and wait, chalking it up to being a coward as well. Everyday when your saviors hadn’t come, the little bit of hope inside was crushed gradually until barely anything was left besides tears of frustration and a luxurious queen sized bed to help you sleep.

Since you’ve been here, Dio took the liberty of making sure you’re fed three five star meals a day and accompanying you with a wine glass of blood. Such a gentleman, he even made idle chit-chat while you refused to take a bite (no matter how many times he told you it would be a waste poisoning you). Dio boasted about his many achievements, including how he stole Jonathan Jostar’s body, which you weren’t sure if he was just bragging or making sure that even in a casual setting, the threat still lingered. Was this supposed to impress you? Because the only responses you ever gave him were snide remarks and silence. Sometimes he would treat this like a silly game, but on days when he was more temperamental, you wisely chose to nod your head and actually eat what’s in front of you.

He made sure you were treated well, despite your situation. You bathed in a tub fit for a princess with fancy soaps and perfume, and was dressed in the finest of authentic Egyptian gowns that money could buy. All of which were gifts from Dio. He even took the liberty to do away with all your drab belongings and anything that didn’t fit his opulent aesthetic. He even gave you art supplies once. Whenever he gave one of these gifts, he always made sure to attach a rose with it. You always throw them out.

To occupy yourself when your host is gone and taking time for himself, you like to venture to his library and thumb through his vast selection. You’re sure you read over half of his stock by now, but something new always catches your eye to pass the time with. Usually you would saunter off into your room, avoiding the underlings as much as possible, but tonight was one of those nights where Dio met you there. 

“There you are darling, I was worried I missed you.” His smooth voice did little to put you in ease. 

“What do you want?” you sighed, making your way to the bookcase and browsing through different titles. Dio playfully scoffs, as always everything you say is just a game to him, and the disdain in your tone goes unnoticed. You didn’t move an inch when he moved closer to you, towering over your much smaller frame.

“You wound me dear, I only wish to spend time with you.” He leans in close next to your ear, his warm breath tickling your lobe. “Alone.” Now that’s laughable! Dio Brando isn’t a man who did anything out of kindness or ‘quality time’ without something in return. Did he run out of bodies to satisfy his hunger? What could you possibly offer him besides a snack?

“Spend time with you? I’ve seen what you do to the men and women who throw themselves at you for a sliver of attention. Their dead carcass lay about your manor like furniture when you’ve drained them.” You barely whispered. Why were you explaining his misdeeds to him like a child? You weren’t sure if you were trying to reason or reach the last thread of humanity within, but doubt was clearly written on your face. You wanted this to end.

You balled your hands into fists and shook with rage. “Just kill me and get it over with! I’m tired of you and I’m tired of being here!” 

Dio couldn’t help but sneer at your sudden outburst. How can you say these things? He’s given so much to you, and this is how you repay him? Do you not realize what you do to him? How weak he is while in your presence? How absurd. You had to have known, and perhaps you were testing his patience on purpose.

Reaching up and gripping your chin roughly, Dio kept your gaze on him. “I ask very little of you and have given you everything you could ever ask for. Tell me darling, are you truly unhappy?” his lips brush against your own, and his voice dangerously low that it sent shivers down your spine. Your voice was caught in your throat, this tower of a man standing over you so domineering makes you seem insignificant. Like a large cat ready to pounce on his prey. 

Tears run down your cheeks and you had no will to stop them. Why was he doing this to you? As if to answer your question, the blonde captures your lips and wraps his arms around your trembling form. With a jolt of energy you tried to shove him off you in defiance for your space. “Please stop, I don’t want…” you mumble. Growling, Dio pulls away and glares into your glossy puffy eyes, his brows furrowing when you don’t give in so easily.   

“Pet.” he said through gritted teeth, his hand drifting down to your neck and squeezing rough enough to cut off air supply. “You’re being selfish. All I asked from you in return is your loyalty and to surrender yourself to me.” He picks you up by your neck and amusingly smirks when you gasp and attempt to wiggle free, your hands desperate for air. Your nails grazing his skin with little scratches did nothing to phase Dio, instead he chuckles.

“Funny, isn’t it? The man’s body I’ve taken, the only man I would ever call my equal, possesses the same power as you do.” Black dots formed in your vision and your legs grew tired from flailing. He lets you drop from his grip, and while you sit slumped over and choking on air for your burning lungs, Dio looks down with his ruby hues. “Suppose my interest in you is fate, or perhaps you remind me of him.” Bending down to kneel in front of you, Dio pulls you towards his chest and picks you up bridal-style with very little resistance from you. He smirks and leans in to whisper in your ear “However, your strength will never match his.” 

Dio took flawless strides towards the desk on the other side of the room and pinned you down on your stomach against the harsh oak surface. With the wind knocked out of you temporarily, Dio traced his long nails along the soft chiffon fabric of your golden gown before tearing it to shreds down the middle, revealing your back and ass as the now useless fabric pools at your feet. Looking back at your captor’s sadistic smirk, your bloodshot eyes widen with realization. You were observant, he didn’t need to spell out what his intentions were. 

Almost immediately, Dio parts your legs with his knee and runs his fingers along your slit, examining it’s beauty before he decimates it with his cock. Squirming, you tried to push yourself up from the desk. As weak as you were, you had to try! Even though you knew Dio had more than enough strength to overpower you. As if he read your mind, he takes both of your wrists in his strong grip and pins them against your back. 

“Careful dear, you wouldn’t want me to break your arms, would you?” You stopped your struggling and stilled. It was best to get it over with and maybe if you comply, he won’t be as harsh with you, right? Just let him do what he’s going to do and don’t make it worse for yourself. “That’s better!” He smiles. “Lay there and trust your Lord Dio. Don’t worry about a single thing.” Don’t worry? How can you not? But, you did as he said and Dio goes back to running his fingers along your pussy, this time his index flicking against your clit. 

Biting your bottom lip, you shut your eyes tight. Be strong….be strong…. You chanted, but the small shocks of having your clip played with after being in turmoil for so long, it was difficult to not give yourself over for anything that can make you feel a moment of blissful ignorance. You were convinced that either Dio was a mindreader, or you were just so painfully obvious, but he stops his ministrations with your heat and leans in closer, he carelessly grinds his clothed hardened cock against you. He was quite proportioned. 

“Let’s enjoy ourselves, hmmm?” You shuddered at his words (and sizable bulge), a small whimper escaping you. Pleased with your sudden turn around, Dio leans back and without missing a beat, undoes his pants, allowing his cock weeping of precum to spring free. You swallow down a moan when his cock rubs against your clit, teasing your lips. Your cunt quickly became sloppy, as you were beginning to come around and throw caution to the wind. Dio must’ve noticed, because chuckles and mutters. “Don’t hide your cute noises from me now.”

With his cock soaked with your juices, he thrusts in and you do as he says, allowing a hoarse moan erupt from your throat that’s muffled by your face against the desk. This wasn’t going to do, not for Dio. While thrusting at a brutal pace, he yanks your hair back and lifts your head so he can listen to your lustful melodies more clearly. While you pant like a bitch in heat whenever he hits that spot to make you see stars, Dio releases your wrists in favor of gripping your hip tightly, leaving bruises. 

Gasping, you didn’t move your wrists for fear of your lord stopping or worse. Pleased by your obedience, Dio’s pace quickens, just for him to slow down to a tortuous pace. Flustered you cry “W-Why? Please….please….m-more!” You try to turn your head, but his strong grip keeps you in place. What a wonderful development! Definitely a change in the right direction from how you rejected him a few moments ago. But, Dio wasn’t quite satisfied yet. He wanted your everything, not only your spur-of-the-moment submission. He’s Dio Brando, Lord Dio to his brood. He doesn’t settle for less than satisfactory.

With a grin, Dio knew just how he would achieve this. “You beg so pretty darling, I see you’re finally coming to understand who owns you. But begging isn’t enough.” When he started moving again, this time his cock kissing your cervix, your mouth hung agape in a silent scream. Your thoughts thoroughly scrambled with nothing but the pleasure that Dio was offering you. Hell, you weren’t even coherent when your position changed to you being on your back with your legs spread wide and exposed, only for Dio. 

He picks up his pace, your cunt constricting around him as he pounds into your sore pussy, his hand now free from your hair pressed down your abdomen. He felt the slight belly bulge from him delving into your sweet cunt, simply delicious. “Darling-” He said too sweetly. “- You’re absolutely stunning so full of my cock, but I have a wonderful idea. I didn’t appreciate your attitude this evening, but I know how we can fix that!” You were too fucked out to comprehend his words, but nodded like the dumb slut you were. His dumb slut. “I’m going to breed this pussy of yours, fill you up with my cum, and you’re going to take everything I give you. Wouldn’t that be great? You grow big and round while your breasts are full with leaking milk.” He pauses as his hips sputter, his cock pulsating with the vision of you growling his children within your womb. 

“Yes..I think motherhood will suit you well. Forever my ___.” 

Whimpering, you nod in agreement. Whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop. You were so very close! You mumble a breathy fuck when Dio pushes your legs up to your shoulders, diving in much deeper than before. Chanting strings of curses under his breath, Dio’s hand on your stomach drifts down to vigorously rub your sensitive nub and in almost no time at all you cum around his member, your juices rushing out to soak the desk and his cock. 

“Oh god...oh god...oh god..” you chanted, making Dio’s ego inflate more if that were possible. Smirking, he lets you ride out your orgasm, before picking up the pace yet again, this time losing control of himself for once. Brutally he fucks you, his cockhead slamming against your cervix, as your pulsing walls from your aftershocks urges his throbbing shaft, begging to milk it. After a few final thrusts, Dio stills and his cock paints your womb with his seed. 

He wasn’t done yet. Chuckling at your fucked out expression, it was so much like Dio to push for more. He wanted to mark you, make everyone but mostly yourself to know who you belong to. Your chest will do and his mark will be on full display. Using the nail on his index finger, Dio carves his name into your chest, pebbles of blood dripping down your sweaty and spent body after each scrape was made. When he is done, he admires his work, his name etched into your skin almost makes his cock spring back to life. What was he kidding, he could go a few more rounds anyway. But first, he leans in and laps up the blood, waste not want not right?

“There you are, how stunning. Darling, I wish you could see yourself right now.” Your eyes grew heavy, you were so exhausted and ready for a nap. Dio picks you up and doesn’t bother to cover you with your shredded rags. “No, no, don’t pass out now. We have a long night ahead of us.”

[vogueinnie]

✍︎︎ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐖 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍

       ━ WARNINGS ;  fem!reader, age gap (reader is 20 and seungmin is 27), mention of cigarettes, smut (focused on the reader’s pleasure), oral (f.), everything is just fluffy and awkward, kinda love at first sight      ━ WORD COUNT ; 2.2k      ━ NOTE ; feedback are so welcomed!!

“At your brother’s work ?!” You clear your throat and apologize for being loud, giving Yeji, your bestfriend, a death glare.

You were supposed to go at her house but, as clumsy as she is, she forgots the keys… in the house. You had two options ; go back to your own, which means procrastinating and giving zero fucks about your homeworks, or go to her brother’s work to take back the keys.

“Hum, yeah… But, there’s a little something… He needs his keys to close the shop, so… we have to work there…” Second death glare. “But you know him, he don’t give a fuck as long as we’re not noisy ! And his co-worker is cool too, I promise.”

You were friend with Yeji since you were a child. Of course you knew her old brother, Hyunjin was such a nice guy. He may seems cold on the outside but he has the warmest personality and had always made you feel like his own little sister even tho you haven’t seen him in a while, due to school.

You sighed at Yeji’s puppy eyes, nodding, knowing that you’ve already lost the battle. She was the best negociator.

That’s how you ended up in front of one of the most famous tattoo shop in your city. Indeed, Hyunjin was the owner of it with his long-time friend. They both were tattoo artists since more or less 2 years. According to Yeji, he was drawing before learning how to talk so it seems pretty logical for him to work in something artistic.

Without knowing why you felt a little bit uneasy, asking the blonde girl if she’s totally sure that it won’t bother Hyunjin and his friend to have you there. You were just students and for adults aged 27-28 years it could be annoying to hear you talk about your lessons. But she was quick to reassure you, even showing you her texts with her brother through her phone.

“Hyunjin ! We’re here !”

As soon as you entered the shop Yeji screamed at his brother and you clap your hand to her forehead.

“Shush ! What if he’s wor- “

“Hello to the prettiest girl heeeeere. No, Yeji, I’m not talking about you, you ugly rat.”

Your smile was immediate after the blond-haired and obviously tattooed boy puts you into a warm hug, patting your head while poking his tongue to his young sister, like the very 28 years old matured adult he is. He had no customers at the moment, and he was just working on some new design, but you can still hear some little machine noises so you guess his friend was tattoing someone in the practice room.

“It’s been a really long time Y/N, how are you ? C’mon, have a sit. Y’all need to work on your classes ? You can sit there, I’m just here, he shows you the sofa right beside the table with his index, if you need anything. You’re at home, here. Seungmin will be over in maybe fourteen minutes so you have time to work.”

You both nod in unision, sitting on the chairs to starts working on an unfinished cases while Hyunjin was giving you two glasses of water to finally go back to focus on his drawings. Yeji and you were sharing ideas, writing and making some researches on your respective laptops. No breaks were allowed unless you’ve finished what you’ve started.

“Maybe we should add the fact that... Hey, Seungmin !” Yeji’s smile was wide and she greets someone behind you, shaking her hands.

Politely, you turn around to face the one you’re supposed to be Hyunjin’s co-worker, Seungmin. You hold back your jaw from dropping on the ground the moment your eyes met his.

He was, honestly, the most beautiful human being you have ever seen. His dark purple hair where falling onto his forehead in a delicate way, covering half of his dark brown and absolutely magnetic eyes. His pretty nose was pierced with a silver ring and his lips were as pink as your burning cheeks. His broad shoulders were hidden in a large black t-shirt and at this right moment your eyes were glued to his inked forearms. Of course you’ve already seen inked people, Hyunjin was one of them, but him…There was something special about him.

“Hello ? Is anybody here ? Youhou, are you alive ?” You heard Hyunjin while he was moving his hands in front of Seungmin’s eyes causing you to cut the contact between the two of us.

Apparently, he was gazing in your eyes too.

“Yeah… yeah, sorry I was just thinking about... you know... stuffs. Hey, Yeji, you good?“ Even his voice was soft and smooth, almost honey-like. He comes closer to the desk you were working on so you immediately stand up, bowing down respectfully and you realized how taller he was compared to you. “Who are you ?”

You frowned your eyebrows, almost agape by his suddenly cold voice and distant attitude. Your eyes can’t no longer detach from each other, and you open slowly your mouth. Everything about him was fascinating, from his lack of expression to the way he was nervously playing with his fingers. Well, you supposed it was nervosity.

“I... I’m Y/N. I’m Yeji’s friend, I’m sorry if we’ve disturb you.”

He hums and nods, leaning over you to take his cigarettes pack and you gulp silently at your sudden proximity. His strong and wooded scent was all around you, making you melt. You had the perfect view on the two black eyes drawn on his throat and you almost felt judged by them from acting like a teenager. It felt like they were staring into your soul, knowing your deepest secrets.

But the most humiliating part was probably the Hwang’s suggestive look on you.

—————————————✰ —————————————

You were so stupid. Nobody could be dumber than you. You were at the highest rank of stupidity. Idiot was your second name.

You sigh, dry throat and shaking hands. You were at the front door of Hyunjin and Seungmin’s tattoo shop. Alone. Indeed, yesterday your brain wasn’t working like usual, thanks to one particular man, and you forgot your phone there. Yes, your phone. You were that distracted. It was 2pm and Yeji couldn’t come with you cause she had classes, but you didn’t. And you really needed your phone after almost a day without it.

You came into the shop, looking all around you to realize that Hyunjin wasn’t here. Seungmin was staring at you from across the room, coming closer to you with your treasure in his hand, and you had forget for a moment how much his inked hands looks like. You stare at the pretty heart drawn on his thumb, the long black line on his major digit and the word “ LOVE “ on his wrist. You were so focused that you almost forgot about your phone.

“You like them ?” You jump at his slow voice and you can feel your cheeks burning instantly. Were you really that dumb to fix your eyes on his hands ? “You can touch them, if you want.”

He puts your phone on the table near you, holding out his two hands in front of you. It was almost sureal. Two adults, standing in front of each other awkardly. You can’t hide the excited smile to grows on your lips and with softness you touch his tattoos with the tip of your index finger, retracing them as if it was a pen. You were surprised by the softness of his pretty skin.

“They are so pretty... You points at a cute little smiley on his other hand. This one is my favorite ! You hear him chuckles, looking at you with such fondly eyes you were so destabilized. You back off him when you realize the situation, biting your lips. I’m sorry... I... I was just... I mean, you know, my phone...”

“You can stay. He said quickly. Hyunjin isn’t here and I have no appointment. I’ve heard you were working on some juridic cases yesterday and I... Well, I have a master in law, so I was wondering maybe I can help you ?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, first cause he was offering you to stay with him, alone, and second cause he has done the same studies as you, something you wouldn't have thought of.

The both of you were then sitting in the sofa, casually talking as if you knew each other since forever. You’ve discovered that he didn’t wants to be a lawyer but his parents had always put some pressure on him to have what they liked to call a good job. And it wasn’t his way of thinking, he wanted to feel free, to love his job and not to feel any pressure from anyone. He was so kind to you, making you more feel comfortable than yesterday. Shy, sweet, talkative and curious about anything you’re saying. A 28 years old man, mature, understanding and independant.

Needless to say that you didn’t talk about your school lessons, but just about the two of you. Also needless to say that you were fascinated. There was just something about his eyes scanning you everytime you were talking, and it felt so good to be the center of his attention. Your conversations were so fluids, you couldn’t hold back yourself to talk and to look at his beautiful features.

“Mind if I draw on you?” He cuts you off when you were talking, grabbing his colorful pens that was near him. He looks at you with his still hypnotic dark eyes and you nod your head with a shy smile. He kneels down infront of you on the ground as you were still sitting on the sofa. You internally thank the beautiful days for allowing you to put on a skirt. “Can I draw on your thighs? I mean, I have a big idea! But I want you to discover it, but if it makes you uncomfortable I-”

“No, no! It’s ok! You can, of course, do it Seungmin. I trust you.”

He smiles timidly, probably knowing that he got a little carried away. He was so passionnate about art that you couldn’t refrein him to do what he has to.

Seungmin then starts drawing on one of your legs, starting from your ankle to your knee. He draws pretty colorful flowers on your skin, it was so soft and beautiful you can’t stop staring at his work on you. He quickly reaches the level of your thigh and he was so close to you that you felt his hot breath against your shivering skin. You felt you mind dizzy for a moment, as his lips were also close to you. Unconsciously you tighten your legs between them, which makes him raise his face to look at you. His pupils were now totally black and this view of him between your legs was all you needed to lose your mind.

You softly grab his hair, making him smirk and immediatly starts to kiss your two thighs. He was so soft, taking his time to discover all of your sensitive spots. And you ? You were already lost, spreading your legs slowly so he can be placed correctly between them. Your inner thighs was his target, he sucks your flesh and you whines at the feeling.

“Please...” You see him smile, licking everywhere but your heat spot. Even your pubic area was drowned in sweet kisses. “Please, I... Do something I can’t...”

Seungmin hums, gripping your legs so they can rest against his shoulders. He lifts your skirt up, moving your pantie on the side and take his time to look at your intimate parts with hungry eyes. You clear your throat, embarassed that he looks at you like that and he gives your clit a kiss.

“So fucking pretty... Fuck, Y/N you’re so pretty, look at that pretty flower...” You chuckles at the surname he gaves to your womanhood. 

He doesn’t waste any more time and starts kissing your wet folds at a slow pace, taking his time to taste your wetness. His tongue was heaven like against you, he was so precise and slow, you couldn’t contain your moans escaping your mouth. His plump lips surround your bud, sucking on it and circling his wet muscle all around your swollen one. 

Your legs tighten against his head as you feel the heat waves crashing against your lower abdom like a delicious torment.

Two of his fingers join his tongue and he finally insert them in your clenching wetness. Your eyes rolls back the moment you feel yourself kinda full, but you lost it the moment he curls his fingers inside of you to stroke your sweetest no-return point.

You moan his name, biting your lips, moving your hips against his magical mouth as he helps you rode your orgasm, pumping his two fingers in you while licking tirelessly your folds and clit the fastest as he can.

Your breath was cut, and you can feel him gives butterflies kisses on you, replacing correctly your clothes on you. He stands up, cleaning his own fingers by licking them which make you blush at the view. He strokes your messy hair, kissing your forehead with a reassuring smile.

“I think I’ve found my muse.” 

[slytherinsnekxvii]

i've been thinking about sirius black and grimmauld place and how much he hates it. so, here have this little fic i wrote about my take on that, just to get myself back into the swing of things now that real life has let up a little bit. warning for awful parenting that might hit a little too close to home before it goes off the rails, walburga and orion saying some really horrible things, and a stinging hex:

By the time Sirius gets his Hogwarts letter, Regulus has mastered the art of performing. He's much better than Sirius was—is—and Sirius wonders how much of that comes from Regulus seeing him make the simplest of mistakes and face the consequences. He wonders when he realised that he's being made an example.

He draws a knee up to his chest, idly twirling a quill between his fingers as his stomach grumbles. He ignores it. He's been sent to bed without supper enough times now that it hardly matters. He scratches two more lines of I will be obedient into the parchment and he thinks about Regulus some more.

He doesn't like the kid, sometimes. Envies him, even. There are things he does that Sirius finds maddening. Regulus has never spoken an original thought his life, follows every instruction given to him, willingly backs himself into corners and he refuses to put up a fight, unless he's the one who started it and knows he can finish it. What makes it worse is that these are lessons that Sirius taught him and couldn't learn himself.

Keep your innermost thoughts close to your chest and if you must speak them, do it aside, address no one but yourself.

Follow orders. Let yourself be manhandled and coerced into position by those who can see the bigger picture.

Never turn your back to your audience.

Turn the other cheek and follow through.

It's bothersome. They have a perfect little heir right there, but they ignore him just to try and force Sirius to be what they want him to be. It's a waste of everyone's time, since they all know that round pegs do not fit into triangular holes. It's suffocating, since they try to do it anyway, shaving away at the bits and pieces that won't fit, hacking at the parts of him that don't mold to fit the shape that they've carved for everyone carrying the Black name. It's unfair, that he's stuck here like this, going to bed without supper, writing lines, of all things, and riding out the effects of a nasty session of "Occlumency training", which he is certain is just an excuse to rifle through his mind and give him a headache.

I will be obedient. I will be obedient. I will be obedient.

His hand moves on its own, the letters appearing on the page ever-so-slightly wobbly as he writes without bothering to look at the words. It's infuriating, the way they echo in his head over and over, and over, again.

He lifts his head when Kreacher appears before him with a crack, his horrid little house-elf face twisted into that familiar, ever-present cross between a grimace and a scowl. "What?" he asks, and somehow, the elf's expression sours even more.

"Mistress wants her lines," Kreacher says. "Mistress says Kreacher is to collect them from Master Sirius."

"I'm not done yet," Sirius snaps, and bites his tongue when the house-elf turns up his mouth in disapproval. He takes his time carving the last few sentences into the parchment, and while his penmanship is probably the greatest it's ever been, he still scowls at the paper even after it's been handed over.

Kreacher scowls back at him and disappears. Sirius rubs his ears and wonders if the elf Apparates that loudly on purpose.

I will be obedient. I will be obedient. I will be obedient. The stupid words spin around in his head, and he scowls harder as he considers that he could probably fill an entire sheaf of parchment in his sleep.

See if I ever turn out like the bloody show dog you want, he thinks, vehemently, and shoves aside the bits of stationery on his desk so he can collapse face-first and not think. There's another crack, and he startles, forcing himself upright as Kreacher stands before him, with his little, twisted house-elf face and little, twig-like house-elf arms crossed.

"What?" he bites, again, and when the elf's expression takes a turn for the worse, he leans back in his chair and doesn't bother shaking off the vindictive satisfaction that crawls up his spine.

"Mistress wants to see Master Sirius in Master Orion's study. Master Sirius is a bad boy," Kreacher tells him, and he fights the urge to slam his fist on the desk, or worse, into Kreacher.

"Why?" Sirius asks, and he knows exactly why, they only ever want him for one reason, they never call on him for anything else, at all, ever, but he still asks. He's not actually expecting anything different, but he does it, just to be difficult.

"Master Sirius has been a bad boy," Kreacher says.

"Right, yeah. Thought as much, really," Sirius tells him, and makes no move to get up from his seat.

"Mistress wants to see Master Sirius in Master Orion's study," Kreacher repeats, and Sirius scoffs at him.

"And what are you going to do about it?" he taunts, and the elf Disapparates. Sirius sneers a bit at the wall, sticks out his tongue as he mocks, "Master Sirius has been a bad boy." He scoffs, idly kicks at the leg of his desk. "Master Sirius has been Sirius. Master Sirius isn't Regulus."

He collapses onto the desk again, lets out a quiet, frustrated scream as his leg picks up the speed and kicks even harder. He takes a deep breath as the woods shudders beneath him and eventually gets his limbs back under control. "Master Sirius doesn't want to be told what to do," he mumbles into the wood. "Master Sirius is a person. Master Sirius doesn't want to be controlled," he continues, quiet, and is glad that his moping is drowned out by the sound of Kreacher Apparating into his bedroom once again.

"Mistress says Master Sirius is being difficult. Maater Sirius must come to the study at once," the elf says, and Sirius doesn't even bother to lift his head. "Master Sirius must come! Mistress insists!"

"Or what?" Sirius asks, tone as bitter and spiteful as his little eleven-year-old tongue can manage.

"Mistress says that Master Sirius must come to the study at once! Master Sirius is being a very bad boy! Horrible boy! Spiteful child!"

Sirius feels his eye twitch as he listens to the elf slowly dissolve into histrionics, wonders if he's listening to Kreacher, or his mother. "Master Sirius is just fine!" he says. "Master Sirius doesn't have to listen to you or be obedient or anything!"

"Master Sirius must go to the study!"

"No!" Sirius exclaims, and he does bang his fist on the desk, noticing far too late that Kreacher has gone silent. The realisation strikes him when his hand leaves the desk and a hand circles his wrist, grip ice-cold. "No..." he says, quiet, and horror takes him as he involuntarily tries to tear away from the hold. If anything, it tightens.

"You would disobey your parents, Sirius Orion?"

"I—" Sirius gasps, and forces himself to be as still as possible, as steady as he can manage even though he still finds himself shaking by the time he finds it in himself to continue. "No, Father, I—"

He won't hit you, Sirius thinks. He would never stoop so low, and he isn't holding his wand. He wouldn't hit you. He wouldn't. He would never. Not with his bare hands. Not without his wand.

His trembling ceases a little, and he starts to speak again. "No, Father, I—"

"Quiet. Your mother is calling for you, you wretched child. Why have you not attended to her?"

"I'm sorry—"

"Apologies mean nothing without action, young man. Do better," Orion stresses, and Sirius bends, head bowing as he prepares to reiterate his apology.

"I—"

"That was not an invitation to speak, Sirius Orion."

"Yes, Father. S—" he bites his tongue and tries not to listen to his heart slowly beating its way out of his chest.

"This is no behaviour to be exhibited by my heir. You will get up, and you will come with me to attend to your mother."

"Yes, Father," Sirius says, and swallows the fire building behind his tongue and under his fear.

The grip around his wrist loosens, and he moves it a little, just to make sure it's still there, still attached, still working and prepares to get up even as he hates himself for listening and his father for making him.

"Quickly, Sirius Orion. Your mother is waiting."

"Yes, Father," he says, and in his mind, he kicks himself for the meekness in his tone.

When he stands up on marginally less shaky legs, Orion moves to clap a hand on his shoulder to steady him and the sheer anticipation of the touch forces Sirius to stand at attention. He straightens his spine until it can go no further without snapping, and when Orion's hand actually lands on his shoulder, he has to concentrate to avoid flinching under the touch.

Orion taps his shoulder once, twice, and then grips it with the same force he'd used on Sirius' wrist. "Go on, then."

Sirius starts to move. Orion does not let up, steel grip still locked in place as it directs Sirius throughout the house. They pass Regulus' door, and Sirius fights the urge to sneer at it, with its stupid, pretentious sign protecting his stupid, pretentious baby brother who's probably asleep with a full belly and not a care in the world with Kreacher at his bedside to bend to his every whim. Stupid, lucky performer sticking to his script... poor little contest crup doing tricks for the judges.

Orion's grip on his shoulder tightens and Sirius hisses as he bends under the pressure. "I said, quickly, Sirius Orion. You would make your mother wait even longer for you than you already have?"

"No, I—" Sirius continues, tripping over his own feet as the his own movement ceases while his father continues to push.

"She's been patient all this time and you would leave her to sit alone and unattended to?"

"Father—"

"Ungrateful child," Orion rebukes and Sirius chokes.

"Yes, Father."

They enter the study quietly, Sirius standing at attention once more while Orion rounds the large desk to take his seat. Walburga crosses and uncrosses her legs in her nearby armchair, and clears her throat. She sits up, handa placed carefully atop each other in her lap and it's an image he's familiar with. She elegantly rolls her wand between her fingers and Sirius reminds himself to tread carefully, don't make a mistake, she's armed, even if this the most demure he's ever seen her.

"Siri."

"Yes, Mother," he answers.

"Why did you not come when I called?"

I didn't want to, I hate you, I hate you both, he thinks. I was scared, he thinks. "I don't know, Mother," he says.

"That isn't an answer, Sirius Orion. If you didn't know, you could have done as I asked of you and inquired it of me when you arrived."

You didn't bother to ask. You ordered, he thinks. "Yes, Mother," he says.

"Why did you not come when I called?"

I'm here, anyways, aren't I? "Kreacher was annoying me," he lies, or well, sort of. Kreacher had been annoying him, but that wasn't why he'd disobeyed. He bites his tongue when he watches their expressions shift.

"Kreacher... was annoying you," Walburga asks, tone flat.

"Yes, Mother," Sirius says.

"So, rather than banish him and do as you were told, you chose... to disobey me?" The uptick in her voice is dangerous, but her position remains the same and Sirius falls into the trap.

"I—sorry, Moth—agh!" The Stinging Hex hits his hand and he shakes it the appendage rapidly as he waits for the pain to abate. "Yes, Mother," he croaks, when his hand graduates from acute pain to slight numbness.

"Do better next time," Walburga tells him, rolling her thirteen inches of elm between her fingers. "Apologies are worthless, I know your father would have told you that much."

"Yes, Mother. I won't keep you waiting again, Mother," Sirius forces. You'll drag me kicking and screaming next time, he thinks.

"Words, again. Powerful, yes. Useful, yes... but that's only in the hands of those whose actions are able to prove it. You've not done so, Siri," Walburga continues, quiet, and this is how Sirius knows he's gone and done it.

His hands move to clench on their own, and his aching left convinces him to clasp them behind his back instead. His legs itch to move, to run away, to go anywhere but here. He wishes he had his broom.

"You disobey. You refuse to listen. You ignore our teachings. You blunder and stumble and do all manner of upsetting things, Siri. We feed you and clothe you and we provide a bed for you to rest your head when the night comes, and yet... you continue to act so horribly. You speak out of turn, you do everything in the exact wrong manner. If I didn't know better, I would think you were doing such awful things on purpose. To spite your father and I." Her eyes meet his and Sirius can't help it, he looks away. His father's lip curls and still, he refuses to look at her.

"You are a horrible child, Siri. Wicked and ungrateful and awful. You aren't worthless, though. You're the product of your father and I, after all. And you aren't incompetent or stupid. You can be taught, Siri. All you must do is listen, and obey. You can be trained and we will make you the wizard you were meant to be as our heir. You need not do anything but obey."

Sirius takes a breath, the cool air sticking in the back of his throat as he feels the hackles on the back of his neck raise. "I—You don't—"

"Don't... what, Sirius Orion?" his father asks.

Nothing, he thinks. "It's—I'm a person! You want an heir that you can teach and train and make, have Regulus! I don't—" he starts, and his eyes widen as he listens to the words spilling out of his mouth with no permission of his and no control over them at all.

"You are a wretched, horrible creature! Awful boy! Spiteful child! How dare you?" Walburga screeches, and Sirius winces, his own mouth clamping shut. "We are your family, your parents. You would disgrace your own blood in such a way? Horrible, awful child! Incompetent! Lazy! Stupid! Never learns! You are an awful creature! Terrible boy! Unworthy! I can hardly believe you came of my loins! We have been nothing but good to you! Awful child, waste of blood, Sirius Orion, how dare you?"

She's sprung out of her chair, elm wand held high in her hand as a weapon, and Sirius ducks even as he shouts.

"I didn't mean it! I didn't, I didn't, I was only angry," he pleads. "I won't do it again," he tells them, quietly, and as his mouth quivers, he tastes salt.

"See to it that you don't," Orion says, frigid even as he rests a hand on his wife's waist to steady her and glares at his firstborn. "I'll not have such an outburst taking place again."

Tell that to your wife, Sirius thinks bitterly, sniffing as quietly and unnoticeably as possible to stave off the rest of the tears he hadn't realised he was crying.

"Yes, Father," Sirius says.

"Get out," Orion tells him.

"Yes, Father," Sirius says, and with that, he turns around and leaves. Quietly, with some sort of dignity so they don't have another thing to hold over his head.

He passes Regulus' stupid door again, kicks it and watches as not even the sign shakes.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," he cries, quietly, as he continues down the hallway, with his voice warbling and his fist pounding against the wall as he goes. Regulus' face flashes through his mind, and then his mother's, his father's, his own. Coward, he spits, inaudible, and the word is coated in every bit of venom he's capable of. "I hate you," he says to the empty air, and not even he can tell who he's trying to address.

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Seven: Potions Lessons

A/N: This is the seventh part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 2831

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

The orange glow emitting from the floating candles lit the room as the dark star lit sky twinkled above. A distant rumble of thunder filled the Great Hall as the row of Professors sat awaiting the students arrival. Professor Dumbledore sat positioned in the middle of the top table, hands clasped in front of him, a subtle smile resting on his ageing face. On either side of the Headmaster sat the Deputy Headmistress and Head of Slytherin House, while his granddaughter nervously clicking her heel under the table next to the former.

"Don't worry, my dear, you'll be a great professor." Minerva whispered to her colleague, clutching onto her hand.

With a simple double clap from the Headmaster the grand entrance to the hall slowly opened to reveal a clamorous horde of students; from all years and houses. Just as quick as he had summoned them, Dumbledore silenced the crowd immediately after everyone had found a seat. Moments later a small cluster of first year students rushed into the hall, their faces a sea of shock and amazement, almost all of them turning their heads to view the exposed sky above them.

Teachers sat patiently while the children were sorted into their respective houses, the rest of the students however quickly became rowdy, cheering for the students that became part of their house and jeering against those who weren't; particularly the young Slytherins. Aria shook her head disapproving at the clear separation of the student body, wondering why the professors allowed for the other houses to discriminate against the Slytherins.

"I wanted to apologise for last night." Minerva spoke in soft tones. "I was a little merry from all that wine and the excitement of being back at Hogwarts. I was out of line, I should know better than to provoke Severus."

"Don't worry about it Minerva" Aria whispered, reaching out to clasp her hand again, reassuringly. "It was kind of funny when you think back on it. Besides you never done anything wrong, Snape completely overreacted to the whole thing, I mean It was obvious it was meant to be a joke ."

The two witches exchanged a comforting smile and squeeze of the hand, before turning to enjoy the feast.

When everyone seemed full enough from the feast Albus rose to his feet, stepping out to a podium at the front of the hall. He started with the same old reminder to the first years that the dark forest was off limits as was the village of Hogsmeade to all students below their third year. Aria had almost begun to zone out when she was brought back to reality by a loud groan from the students as Dumbledore announced the Quidditch inter-house cup would be cancelled this year. Straight away Aria's attention was pulled to the red headed Weasley twins sitting off to the left of the hall, heckling the headmaster, devastated they would be missing out on playing there favourite sport. Aria chuckled to herself, glad to see the boys again.

The objections from the hall soon came to a halt, not by Dumbledore's upcoming announcement, but by a deep rumble of thunder filling the room, followed by the screams of students as a bolt of lightning pulsed through the sky. Another fork of lightening shot through the sky, illuminating the wounded disfigured face of a suspicious man who had just hobbled into the room. Aria could not take her eyes off the dark silhouette of the man, the only part of his body visible in the shadows was the large unnerving electric blue glass eye which shot about in his head aimlessly, the stark contrast of the fake eye only emphasised when his small black beady one was revealed in the candlelight. The man limped towards the Headmaster, every eye in the room on him.

"Perfect timing." Dumbledore grinned. "May I introduce to you, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody. And on that note I would like to also present, My granddaughter and your new Potions Assistant, Professor Aria Dumbledore." Aria stood for a second, smiling to the crowd and gave a small curtsy before once again taking her seat. Less than enthused by his introduction, Moody immediately took his seat at the end of the top table, allowing Professor Dumbledore to continue with his speech.

"As I was saying, the Quidditch inter-house cup will not be taking place this year due to Hogwarts having the honour of hosting the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Dumbledore proceeded to explain the details and rules of the tournament before introducing the competing schools; Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. The excitement among the students only picked up as the opposing schools joined the great feast, each conducting a small show for everyone to enjoy. Aria's nervousness had long passed and she was now thoroughly enjoying the meal with her newfound friends and coworkers. However the silence between Aria and Severus remained as a thick air of tension settled over the Professor's table.

*

First period the next morning Aria was set to assist Snape in teaching first year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw's. She stood at the front of the Potion's classroom, her presence commanding but not intimidating. Aria couldn't help but grin as she watched the new students excitedly chatting away in hushed tones, enthusiastically awaiting their first ever class at Hogwarts. She felt sorry for them knowing their expectations were soon to be let down. Rocking slightly back and forth on her heels, Aria took one last look over the days schedule. She was determined not to give Severus a reason to criticise her today. Speaking of which she was shocked to find the man late for his own lesson.

Just as the thought entered her mind, the loud crashing of the door opening caught the attention of the entire room. The billowing cape of Severus Snape dramatically wafted behind him as he rounded his way around the children's desks and towards the front of the class.

"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class." He commanded, the velvety monotone of his voice silencing the class. Aria took a step back, not wanting to risk getting in his way as he begun to scribble on the chalkboard behind his desk. "For the select few of you who possess the appreciation for the subtle art that is potion making I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death." Snape enunciated.

Aria continued to stay out of the professors way, waiting for her cue to participate in the lesson. A cue which never came. She stood off to the side, her feet burning from standing so long in the one position, a feigned smile painstakingly plastered on her face, trying her best to keep up appearances for the sake of the students.

It was clear from the look on their faces they were enjoying today's lessons just as much as she was, her heart ached for them, their dreams of having a magical Hogwarts experience was crushed in their first hour of lessons.

Snape continued to teach for the rest of the day pretending like Aria wasn't even there at all. Aria chose to stay silent. Snape's rude demeanour giving her the perfect excuse to report him to Dumbledore for not carrying out his duties as her mentor; allowing her to participate in the teaching of his classes. Not giving him the satisfaction of her arguing she simply walked away at the end of the teaching day, leaving him alone in the class wondering why she simply gave in to him.

This was made clear to him when he was called to Dumbledore's office that evening to discuss the days lessons. Both Dumbledore's sat looking smugly as the Potions Master entered the Headmasters office refusing to take his seat next to the young woman when it was offered.

"I thought I made it abundantly clear Severus that Aria is to assist in all of your lessons." Dumbledore begun, not entertaining the man's supercilious act.

"I thought I made it clear, Headmaster, that I will not work with this woman. I respect she is your granddaughter and you felt the need to give her a job but I will not compromise my teaching for her childish demands."

"Severus, this is your job." Dumbledore said, his tone sharper than usual. "If you will not abide my commands then I shall have to take action into my own hands. Until you chose to cooperate, Aria will teach all potions lessons alone. You will have no interference or participation in any class until you agree to work in partnership with her. That is all I have to say on the matter." He finalised.

"Thank you, grandfather." Aria shot Severus a self-satisfied look, and rose from her seat, pleased with the outcome of her enquiry. Severus seen no point in objecting in fear of making the situation worse. The glare on his face simply intensified. He made to leave, just as did Aria. The two as stubborn as each other refused to stay behind and so they left side by side, the ever growing tension between them more apparent than ever.

"So that's how it shall be, will it?" Severus seethed through gritted teeth. "I do something you don't like and you go running to Granddaddy?"

"It worked didn't it." She chirped with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Besides, there wouldn't be a problem had you not chose to ignore me all day. I do not want to step on your toes Severus, but if you refuse to work with me, I will do everything in my power to change that. I'm here to assist you, to help you. Utilise me! Stop thinking of me as your biggest enemy and start thinking of me as an asset. We could accomplish so much together." The witch pleaded. Severus shot her a look of confusion and slight disgust. "Professionally speaking." She finished, clearing her throat, making it clearer what she meant.

Snape huffed, in response, continuing to walk on, though they both kept a steady pace, remaining side by side all the way to the Dungeons. Showing no sign of stopping for the final word as he reached his private quarters, Severus huffed to himself in a rage of malcontent. "See you tomorrow." Aria called to him, her tone dripping in sarcasm.

And with that Severus slammed the door to his chambers putting a final end to the conversation.

*

For eight days Aria was left to her own devices, happily teaching potions her own way to the students. Depending on his mood Severus would either sit at his desk, muttering irritably to himself in disapproval. Other days he would be feeling more confident and he would consistently make snarky comments regarding her teaching style. And sometimes he wouldn't even show up to class at all. It didn't take Aria long to suspect what he might be doing during those long days he sat alone.

On the ninth day Severus had had enough. He couldn't take it any more. He hated feeling idle. He hated not feeling needed. He hated that students loved the way she taught. And he hated that one day Dumbledore might come to his senses and realise she was just as capable of teaching as he was and he would no longer be needed at Hogwarts.

That night after the Great Feast Severus went to the Headmaster's office and quietly gave in, agreeing to work in partnership with Miss Dumbledore. Aria was impressed by Severus' decision and could not wait to gloat victoriously when she saw him at breakfast the next day.

However when it actually came time for Aria to proudly shove her successful accomplishment in Severus' face, she didn't have the heart to humiliate him. It had been a good few days since she had saw him last and it was clear the time alone had not done him any good. Though he usually had a look of exhaustion about him the dark bags under his eyes were worse then ever, the lines across his face deeper and his general aura was less dangerous and intimidating dungeon bat and more exhausted sleep deprived man. He almost seemed more human to Aria now he was more reserved and timid than his previously obnoxiously arrogant self.

She let him lead the lesson and done as she was asked when she was asked. Snape was happy to use her skills to his advantage and was glad he had an extra pair of hands to take on the physical aspect of the lesson when he became too tired to move from behind his desk. The pair managed to maintain a professional dialogue for the whole day, with little to no arguments as Aria kept her mouth shut and Severus respected her position as his assistant.

By the end of the teaching day Severus was practically falling asleep behind his desk as he made his way through the stack of paperwork he had collected throughout the day. Struggling to keep his eyes open Severus ran a hand through his hair, resting his head in his hands and let out an painful groan of exhaustion. As Miss Dumbledore finished collecting in the small pewter cauldrons she took the opportunity to have a real conversation with the man in front of her.

Letting out a sympathetic huff, Aria couldn't help but give him a sad sort of smile. She pulled a seat over to the desk and waited for Snape to notice her. Although she hadn't known him long, and of course it was clear to everyone he was not the most well balanced human in terms of sleep and work, she could confidently say he looked to be at his worst. A small scruff of a beard threatening to form had appeared from the past days of forgetting to shave and the man could barely keep his heavy eyelids open.

"Can I help you, Miss Dumbledore." Severus grumbled, slowly moving his hands from his head to look at the young woman. "What is it you want?"

"Are you okay, Severus?" She spoke softly, genuinely concerned for the man.

"I'm perfectly fine, Miss Dumbledore." His slightly slurred words saying differently. "Not that it is any of your concern." He mumbled, once again turning to his stack of paperwork.

"What happened to you." Aria muttered more to herself than Snape. The professor looked up at the woman, who had now become preoccupied with straightening out her skirt. Snape let out a final sigh and sat his quill to the side, ready to fully invest in the conversation with the woman.

"What are you mumbling about, woman." He asked, though his tone was not as harsh as it could have been.

"I am truly, truly sorry, Professor." She confessed. "I knew you were unhappy about my being here but I hadn't realised how much it would have took a toll on you. I mean sure I wanted to mess with you for a bit just to give you a taste of your own medicine, but look at you."

"Despite what you may think, you are not the sole reason for my lack of sleep, Miss Dumbledore." He spoke softly, his captivating gaze catching her own. He seemed to be reassuring her more than doing it for the thrill of proving her wrong.

"I'm not?"

"You are not even half the reason. Though you can take full credit for the sudden peak in my blood pressure." Aria couldn't help but chuckle at the comment, and she could have sworn a brief smile flashed across Severus' face too.

"Do you want to talk about what's got you in such a state." The woman pried.

"Not even slightly." He droned, breaking eye contact, once again picking up his quill.

"Clearly its bothering you, I don't imaging keeping it bottled up will do much good."

"I said I don't want to talk about it." He replied curtly. "Now if you could please take your leave, your assistance is no longer required."

Aria thought it best not to aggravate the man more given his current state and chose to obey his command, giving a small nod before heading for the door.

"Miss Dumbledore." Snape called out, just as she made to leave, forcing to spin on her heel to face him. "I'll be okay." He assured, giving her a comforting nod before immediately turning back to his work.

Speechless Aria could only smile in return. Not only had they both had a successful day of teaching and a perfectly civil conversation but Snape had even gone as far as to reassure her, knowing if he hadn't she would have blamed herself for his deteriorating condition.

The soft click of the door closing felt as if it had been amplified a thousand times as the feeling of loneliness engulfed Severus.

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel​

[heliads]

Of Sorcerers and Spiderwebs Chapter Four: Hopeless

Y/N L/N is a Master of the Mystic Arts, trained by Doctor Strange himself. When she first meets Peter Parker as they fight side by side against Thanos, she isn’t expecting for their brief partnership to blossom into a love that could last a lifetime.

previous / series masterlist / next

After realizing that you’re in love with Peter Parker, it feels even harder to drag yourself out of bed to head to school the next morning. Even the sight of him walking towards you from across the crowded hallways of Midtown hurts- you know that no matter how close the two of you become, he’ll never see you as anything more than a friend.

In fact, just the simple act of seeing him confirms that you truly love him. You’re not sure how you didn’t realize it before, but it’s glaringly obvious now. When the two of you are paired together for some partner activity in class, you’re able to laugh and smile with him as if you’ve known him your entire life. 

That’s the easiest thing about Peter- with him, you’re able to just live and be whoever you want to be. There aren’t any expectations with him- no rules or assumptions or anything. He doesn’t presume you to be anything more than yourself. You’re not sure anyone’s made you feel like that in a long time.

However, things aren’t exactly perfect. Now that you’re actually paying attention to how you feel about Peter, you’re also noticing how Peter feels about other people. Specifically, how he feels about one of his closest friends, MJ. Case in point: whatever’s going on with them during this exact lunch one sunny afternoon at Midtown.

Although technically there are four of you at the lunch table, Peter’s clearly centered around MJ and MJ alone. He’s sitting next to her, leaning over to face her in a way that shuts out everything else around him. They’re engaged in some deep conversation about the ethics of neuroscience, something that you happen to know a lot about thanks to Stephen and that you could easily debate along with them. However, you already tried to enter the conversation and were talked over more than a few times, so you’ve given that up.

You can’t exactly blame Peter for being wrapped up in MJ. She’s practically perfect for him- she supports him being Spider-Man, she knows enough about his favorite topics to have discussions like the one they’re having now, and they both have the perfect blend of shy and talkative that makes them equals. The only problem is that she’s not you.

The worst part is that Peter is clearly in love with her. Here’s the thing- nobody looks at a girl the way Peter is looking at MJ right now, with that stupid soft smile on his face as she talks and that unnameable expression his eyes, without being in love. You suppose that’s why it hurts you so much to see him. It shouldn’t, of course, Peter’s known MJ for far longer than he’s known you and you just arrived at Midtown a few months ago. Yet your heart still feels a painful twinge every time you glance their way.

“You good, Y/N?”

You’re broken out of your trance when Ned speaks to you. Blinking once to clear your head, you turn to him. “Yeah, I’m just, uh, considering my plans for the future. I’ve heard about this really cool opportunity within the different international Sanctums to go out in search of people who could potentially become Masters of the Mystic Arts to monitor them and offer aid if they need it.”

What you’re talking about isn’t a lie- you have heard about this program, and it’s been simmering away in the back of your mind for quite some time. You had assumed that you weren’t going to act on it, as your life was going very well over in New York, but for once you might be convinced to move away as a nomad for the sorcerers.

Ned looks impressed. “That does sound cool. So you’d basically get to vacation around the world in the name of the Sanctums?” You incline your head, confirming his words. “That’s the thing- it sounds amazing. The only thing is, I’d have to apply and I don’t know if they’ll let me in or not. And, even if they do let me in, I’m just wondering if I would be able to leave all of this behind. It feels like I just got here.”

Ned nods. “I mean, I don’t really know what to tell you. Wizards-I mean, sorcerers, kind of have a priority of coolness over everything else. I guess you just have to ask yourself what you’d be giving up by leaving, and if you think the pros of the trip would outweigh the cons.”

You look at him, somewhat surprised. “That’s actually really good advice. Thanks, Ned.” The boy smiles. “Hey, if I can’t be a superhero I can at least give out super-good talks.” The two of you dissolve in laughter, but your smile fades slightly when you realize Peter hasn’t even heard you at all. Would he care if you left?

The next day, you slump down into your seat at the lunch table with a glower that could rival the stormy weather outside. Ned raises his eyebrows at the sight of you. “Well, I didn’t think you could look even more depressed than yesterday, but I guess I was wrong. What, did Sorcerers Worldwide not let you into their program?”

You point a finger at him in agreement. “I showed up and asked if I could go through with their program. I showed them everything I could do, which is more than the average adult at the Sanctum. Even with that, they still won’t let me go. They kept saying something about how I should be finishing school before I go traipsing around the globe. That doesn’t even make sense- they pulled me out of my freshman and sophomore years so they could train me at Kamar-Taj, why is it not okay now?”

Across the table from you, Peter looks stunned. “Wait, what do you mean? You were going to leave Midtown for some errand of the sorcerers?” You nod, staring up at the ceiling bleakly. “It was going to be so cool, too. But no, I have to wait until I’m out of high school or college or whenever they run out of excuses.”

Peter leans forward, and you realize for the first time that he actually seems cross, almost hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you liked it here.” You can’t help but feel defensive at his questioning. “I did. Yesterday, at lunch. I talked about it right here. I guess you weren't paying attention. Besides, I do like Midtown, but are you telling me you’d rather go to high school than travel the world?”

Peter scoffs. “Yeah, it would be fun to leave for a vacation or a weekend trip. You just got here, do you really not care about all of us enough to leave it all behind for some jaunt around the world?” You raise your eyebrows. “Why are you so upset? I just said that I wouldn’t be going anyway. And besides, I do care about everyone here, which is why I talked about the possibility of me going on this trip yesterday to all of you. I suppose you just weren’t listening.”

Peter’s opening his mouth, presumably to deliver a no doubt intense remark, but Ned places his hands in between the two of you, interrupting him. “You know what, I think what Peter means is that we’d all be sad to see you go, Y/N. We’re sorry that you didn’t get into your program, but at least you still have us, right?”

You tilt your head towards Ned, pointedly ignoring Peter. “Thank you, Ned. I absolutely agree. Midtown is, and will always be, an amazing school with amazing people and I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.” You and Ned continue to have a conversation in the same forced calm voices, and eventually Peter joins in. MJ arrives later, and joins in the chatter as well, although she does raise her eyebrows at the tension clearly brewing between you and Peter.

When lunch ends, the four of you are heading back to your classroom when you suddenly stop moving. Your friends stop as well, looking back at you in confusion. “Everything alright, Y/N?” MJ asks, but you just shake your head fervently. “Everything is very much not alright. It’s like I can sense something strange in the school. I don’t know what it is, but it isn’t human and it isn’t going away.”

Your friends walk back up to you. “Can you tell us anything else about it?” Ned questions. You try and latch onto the sudden feeling, but you can’t sense anything else. “I think I’m going to have to use my astral form to check it out. Can you make sure nobody notices what I’m doing?” Your friends nod their assent, and huddle up around you to hide you from view. If anyone happens to walk by, they’ll just see a group of students clustered around a locker.

You fling your shoulders back, closing your eyes and opening them once more to find yourself in your astral form, glowing and weightless just like normal. As you head off down the hallway in search of whatever malevolent entity is creeping around the school, you glance once over your shoulder and can’t help but feel slightly better when you notice that Peter is the first one to reach out and catch you, despite everything that just happened.

Brushing away thoughts of Peter and the concern clearly written across his face at the thought of you heading into danger, you continue on down the hallways. You quickly check classrooms and halls of lockers, and you notice that the strange feeling of darkness is emanating from a room down a few flights of stairs. The basement. 

Of course it had to be the basement, the darkest, coldest, most formidable place in the whole school. Why couldn’t creepy things just hide in plain sight for once? Why the basement? You shudder briefly, then force yourself down through the floor until you’re standing just outside the basement door. You step forward, walking through the door, and suppress a silent scream when you see what’s inside.

When you suddenly jerk back to life in Peter’s arms, your friends look at you with startled eyes. “What is it? What did you see?” All you can do is clasp on to Peter, who’s still holding you tight. “Something is coming. Something bad.”

tag list: @dude-were-getting-the-band-back​ @xroselights​ @idiotic--punk​

[plaidbooks]

SFW Alphabet - Nick Amaro

Requested by no one, but whenever I’m stuck on a fic, I seem to turn to headcanons, so here we are. I hope y’all enjoy some Nick headcanons!

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm​ @beccabarba​ @thatesqcrush​ @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ @stardust-fray​ @permanentlydizzy​ @infiniteoddball​ @ben-c-group-therapy​ @glowingmess​ @whimsicallymad​ @lv7867​ @storiesofsvu​ @cycat4077​ @barbasimp​

(gif by @dwaynepride)

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

Nick’s pretty affectionate—he likes to sit with you on the couch after a long day, arm wrapped around your shoulders. His love language is words of affirmation, so he’s constantly giving you compliments and telling you how much you mean to him. He also loves massaging you, whether your neck, shoulders, back, or simply your calves.

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

Nick’s always there for you if you need him. He’s mastered the art of listening to you vent and rage, or just sitting with you in silent comfort, whichever you need. You met Nick while at the park—he was with one (or both) of his kids, just a bonding day, playing. You were walking your neighbor’s dog at the time, and the kid(s) became enamored with it, asking to pet and play with it. The dog needed a good run, and what better way than with a child? So, you let it off the leash, and you and Nick idly chatted while watching them play. You quickly exchanged numbers, so that the kid(s) and dog could play again some time (and so Nick could have an excuse to talk to you)

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

Nick likes to cuddle on the couch, but more so in bed. The only problem with cuddling on the couch is that one or both of you have to get up too often. In bed, however, he can hold you close to him for hours, his nose nuzzled against your neck.

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

Nick’s always been in a relationship—he doesn’t know how to not be. That being said, he hates cooking. He does it (and does it well), but it’s his least favorite thing to do. As for cleaning, he’s a bit of a neat-freak. He’s gotten Zara good at cleaning up her own mess (though her room is a different story), and he’s on top of messes in the house. He’s quick to clean anything that happens, and knows how to mix chemicals safely and effectively to clean any stain.

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

Nick would keep his cool, collected façade the whole time—in person, of course. But, as soon as he’s alone, he breaks down crying. He’d be civil about it, making sure to get your things back to you quickly and efficiently so that you don’t have to go to his place.

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

After Maria, he’s a little wary about marriage. He doesn’t want to make any mistakes again, so he’ll take it slow. He’d make sure you were really the one before proposing, and even then, he’d wait to marry you. And unless you were really into a big wedding, he’d probably just take you to a small chapel, with his mom, Zara and Gil, and your family as witnesses. But he doesn’t necessarily believe you have to be married to be in love.

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

For the most part, Nick is gentle as can be. Because of his upbringing, he knows what it’s not to not have that. Though, sometimes work can get to be too much, and he’ll come home pissed, yelling and screaming. Once his anger passes, however, he’s apologizing profusely, holding you and caressing you gentler than ever. Even so, no matter how mad he gets, he’d never think to raise a hand to you.

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

Nick loves hugs, even if he won’t admit it. He’ll hug you on days you need it, rubbing your back and resting his head on yours. And on days he needs it? He won’t ask for a hug, but if you do hug him on rough days, he fucking melts against you. Sometimes, he forgets how much love and affection can be in such a soft touch, especially if he’s expecting something rougher, more violent.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes him a little bit to say it, but he shows it quickly. It’s evident in everything he does. And after he finally mutters it to you, it’s as if he’s seeing a door that was painted the same color as the walls. Of course, he loves you! Why didn’t he say it earlier? No matter, now he has all the time in the world to make it up to you, saying it constantly.

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

Nick is the epitome of jealous. He trusts you, sure, but he doesn’t trust anyone else. If a man so much as looks at you for too long, Nick will wrap himself around you, pulling you in for a dominating kiss. And if it��s a friend/coworker looking at you? Well, then that just means Nick has to take you home and mark you as his, so that those prying eyes will see his mark on your neck.

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

Nick’s kisses as rough and dominating, yet somehow tender and full of passion. His lips are soft against yours, his hands cupping your face, neck, hips, ass, pulling you closer to him. But his tongue is in your mouth, massaging yours, leaving you completely breathless by the time he releases you. Besides on the lips, Nick loves kissing your hands/knuckles/arms. He watched Tom ‘n’ Jerry as a kid, and saw that one episode(s) where Tom kisses the girl cat from hand up her arm to her face, and he loves doing that to you, especially because it makes you giggle.

Nick has a ticklish neck and loves when you kiss/nibble his neck/throat. It makes him laugh and he feels so warm and loved. And if you mark him? He plays it off as if he’s embarrassed, but he secretly loves it.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Nick’s the best dad! He has infinite patience with both his kids, never getting mad with them. Yes, he can be strict with them, but that’s only to make sure they’re taught right. He’s also never too tired after work or on days off to play with them, or read a bedtime story (for Zara). His only downfall is that he can’t be around them more. Nick also embarrasses them both with the worst dad jokes.

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

On days that he works, Nick Is up early, making sure Zara is ready for school (if he has her). Then he’s shaved, dressed, and ready for work. He makes breakfast for both of you (and Zara, if she’s there), and then is on his way.

On his days off, and without Zara, Nick will stay in bed with you, waking you up with sleepy morning sex. If he can get away with staying in bed until noon, he will. Otherwise, he’ll get up and ready for whatever he needs to get done that day.

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

Sometimes, Nick needs to be held. When the cases are bad, or when he wakes up in the middle of the night from nightmares of his childhood, he’ll sob softly against you while you cuddle with him, telling him how much you love him.

Other nights, Nick will take you to bed and spend half the night rememorizing your body, the noises you make. He’s gentle, tender, whether you have sex or not. If not, he’ll just caress your skin with his big, warm hands, massaging you muscles slowly. And if you do have sex, then he’s slow, loving, his touch tender against you.

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

Nick’s pretty guarded—he’s been hurt before and is afraid to be hurt again. He’ll tell you important things first, like that he has two kids, and that’s divorced, but you won’t learn about either mom for months. He’ll also tell you he’s a detective, but he won’t tell you what department, nor what kinds of cases he gets. He compartmentalizes his work life and his home life. It’s not until he gets super defensive around his kids that you can put two and two together.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Surprisingly, Nick’s not easily angered…at least in his home life. He’s quick to anger if his children or family are threatened, but otherwise, he’s pretty chill. That being said, things at work, and his conversations with Maria, can get under his skin easier than anything else. But once he blows off some steam, he’s pretty quick to apologize, making it up to you or anyone else that was a recipient of his verbal lashings.

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

Nick’s brain is a steel trap. He remembers most things, even little details you didn’t think were important. Sometimes, though, he gets his facts a little mixed up (“I thought you said you loved ranch?” “Yeah, only as a dipping sauce, not as a salad dressing”). But he obviously tries, and you’re shocked that his years as a father didn’t completely destroy his brain.

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

Nick got called in on his day off, and his mother was busy. In desperation, he called you to watch Zara, which you happily accepted. You had a great day with her, and she loved hanging out with you. When Nick finally came to pick her up, she didn’t really want to leave. “Can I come stay with Auntie [y/n] again? I love her!” Zara said. Nick picked her up, holding her against his side, heart swelling. “Uh, I don’t know. Would you like—” “I’d love to watch Zara again. Anytime,” you replied, and Nick fell completely in love with you at that moment.

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

Nick tries to make every date special, he really does. But if he had a dollar for every time he got called away halfway through a date, then Zara would be able to afford college no problem. If you’ve been dating for a long time, then he’ll slowly start giving up—though, he’d be sure to do at least something special that night. Gifts are always special with Nick—he puts extra thought into every single one, and they’re all incredibly touching.

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

Nick relies on takeout too much. Man hates cooking, and since he doesn’t have Zara 24/7 anymore, he doesn’t eat super healthy anymore. Which isn’t a problem for him—he goes to the gym and works out. It’s becoming a problem for you though. He also tends to turn to alcohol if he’s had a bad day.

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

Nick is well shaven and keeps good hygiene. It’s not that he’s concerned with his looks, it’s just simply taking care of himself. Sometimes, he’ll let the scruff grow out into a neatly trimmed beard, mostly because he knows you love it. But this man was slumming in Narcotics for a bit—he doesn’t care what he looks like, as long as he’s dressed for the correct occasion.

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

Once you’ve joined his family, you’re a part of the Amaro clan. It’s not so much that he would feel incomplete (though he would), but he wouldn’t know how to tell Zara. Poor girl has already had so much heart break in her short life; she doesn’t need to deal with that again.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Nick loves watching cartoons with Zara. He’ll sigh and roll his eyes when she picks out a movie or show to watch, but he sings along with the opening credits, and has matching shirts with the characters on them with Zara (you are to never tell anyone that). You once came home while Nick was off and Zara with her mom, and he scrambled to change the channel from Spongebob to sports, but you had already caught him red-handed.

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

Nick will never be with someone who’s abusive, whether verbally, emotionally, or physically. While he understands venting and releasing pent up anger, he’s dealt with that for too many years of his life to deal with it from a partner. And if you so much as looked at Zara or Gil wrong, you’re done.

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

Whether it’s paternal instincts or because he’s been in a relationship so long, you don’t know, but if you and Nick are in bed together, he’s touching you. More often than not, he’s wrapping his limbs around you, holding you close. It’s only rarely that his back will be pushed against you. No matter how hot it is in the room, Nick is on you.

[tragedy-for-sale]

Beach Days:

The Worst Enemy of the Jedi: Sand

I'm going to write a bunch of stories about the GAR on the beach just straight up vibing. Only good times here folks. Order 66? Don't know her. Palpatine? Doesn't exist. Happiness? WE LOVE HER. This little series is dedicated and based off the WONDERFUL art by @suja-janee !!

◈ ━━━━━━ ◆ ━━━━━━ ◈

"Rex, are we gonna play chicken?" Ahsoka asked, tapping her foot anxiously. The Captain turned to her, he was going to say 'Absolutely not' but he saw Fives and Echo nodding their heads like two puppies behind her he couldn't say no. Rex let out a heavy sigh, he was going to get a lot of water up his nose. "Yes, 'soka, we'll beat Fives and Echo at chicken" he replied, watching all three of them somehow grow more excited.

"You four have fun with that," Cody inturrupted as he approached them, "I came up with the perfect beach vacation plan," he said, patting the messenger bag by his side, "I packed the newest issues of magazines, a giant umbrella, towels, sunscreen, even buckets and shovels so we can have a sand castle contest."

"Indeed, speaking of sun screen, none of you ever put any on" Obi-Wan approached as the shuttle landed. "We're not leaving until everyone has put on some. This vacation will be fun the entire stay if we use proper precaution."

Ahsoka gave a look to Rex, who gave her the same one back. "But come on, Master!" Ahsoka whined, "We just wanna splash in the water. What about Master Skywalker? I doubt he feels your sunscreen theory is worth it."

Anakin came suddenly out of the dark, holding the controls to open the ship's ramp, "Actually, I agree with Obi-Wan. We're not going anywhere until all of you have put some on." He threw a bottle to Ahsoka then crossed his arms.

The four groaned and took turns spraying each other with the sunscreen until the fumes were so strong they could kill someone. "There! Beach time?" Echo asked, dropping the bottle only so Fives could catch it. They thought it'd look cool.

"I mean, we could always just go and bowl instead, you know, away from the sand." Anakin suggested, only for the remote to be snatched from his hand by Obi-Wan.

"Nonsense, yes, you all can go play now, don't let Anakin's gloominess ruin the mood." Obi-Wan smiled as he opened up the ship and they all ran out like dogs, except Cody. Who waited until Obi-Wan had made a snarky comment to Anakin. "I trust you packed the tea?" Obi-Wan asked, pulling the cooler of drinks.

"Yes sir, I packed several kinds, all brewed 24 hours in advance, of course" Cody replied as they walked leisurely to the beach.

"Oh, of course" Obi-Wan smiled as they decided where to set up the umbrella, a place not too far from the shore, but far enough. Obi-Wan had gotten the umbrella in the sand, turning to see Anakin standing ominously in the darkened ship. "Anakin! Now come on!" He called, only to turn to Cody, "Looks like I'm going to be occupied dragging Anakin off the ship, we'll have to catch up later"

Cody nodded as he put on his sunglasses. "Good luck sir, you'll need it" Cody chuckled before opening up his bag and pulling out a magazine.

The other four were already in the water playing chicken. Rex was holding up Ahsoka while she wrestled Fives. Rex glared at Echo, which helped them win. Chicken was very serious business. Echo tried not to break by his Captain's stare, but he felt himself give in and Fives falling off his shoulders.

"Ha! We win!" Rex laughed as Ahsoka fell into the water, giving Rex a high-five. Fives let out a grumble, splashing Ahsoka. Who splashed back and soon enough resulted in a giant water splashing fight.

Rex left them to their madness. He wasn't getting more water up his nose today. He saw his brother sitting alone under his umbrella and decided to check up on him. Cody was enjoying himself but that was quickly ruining by his soaking brother plopping down next to him.

"Hey bro!" Rex smiled, taking Cody's hat to wear, "Watcha reading?" He asked, flicking some water on Cody's face. Cody started to look up from his magazine very slowly, a clear look of grumpyiness displayed. But he didn't speak because his attention was caught by Echo and Fives, who were now chasing each other.

"FIVES! It's MY watermelon!!" Echo screamed, who was chasing his brother so desperately, "You said I could have it!!" He continued to scream.

"You'll never catch me alive copper!!" Fives screamed in turn, he was hugging the watermelon like it was his child. He then proceeded to laugh manically as he ran.

Rex and Cody continued to watch the two long enough to not notice Ahsoka pulling up her own beach towel and umbrella. "So what issue has the one where the 104th modeled in?" Rex changed the subject, he was going to pretend he saw nothing.

"Issue #36, Wolffe's segment talks about hair advice, you should read it" Cody replied, his eyes locked on his magazine. Rex opened up Cody's messenger bag and pulled out the issue, he couldn't wait to find something to mock Wolffe with. Cody then pulled Rex's hat off his head and switched it with a giant sun hat, "You burn too easily for a cap" Rex let out a huff, he did not. But he was too invested in the article to reply.

Ahsoka had been chilling under her umbrella and had watched Fives and Echo the entire time. Fives had ripped Echo's watermelon out of his hands and they were chasing each other until Jesse stopped them, taking the watermelon. With the rest of the boys arriving, it was sure to get crowded soon.

Jesse had taken the watermelon and cut it into slices for everyone. Fives had scarfed down his piece then proceeded to rip Echo's half eaten slice right out of hands, causing the clone to burst into tears.

"Oh, now where did that Anakin get to?" Obi-Wan asked. Ahsoka looked up to see one of her masters take a drink of, whatever. "I'd only gone to get a martini and when I returned, I discovered I'd lost Anakin." Obi-Wan explained. Ahsoka let out a snicker.

"I'm sure he couldn't have gone far" Ahsoka stated as she looked around, but all she saw was Cody showing Rex something he wanted in a magazine, "I don't see him" Ahsoka continued to scan the beach but when she spotted Anakin she let out a giant laugh. "Master look!" She pointed with a giddy smile.

"Oh, sweet maker, that boy" Obi-Wan mumbled, talking a long slow sip of his drink, "Anakin! Get out of the tree!" He screamed walking towards him, "Get out of the blasted tree!" He called as he gave the tree a kick.

Anakin shook the tree, "Never! You'll never get me down! Neverrrrr!!!!" He cried, shaking the tree more and more. Ahsoka had followed Obi-Wan and they watched Anakin in silent awe at just how dramatic he was.

"Pshhh, he's so dramatic" Ahsoka mumbled as she watched Anakin clinging to the tree.

"Yes, a trait that suits him well," Obi-Wan sighed as he watched the shaking tree and blocked out Anakin's continuous screaming. "Ahsoka, would you please gather the men? I have an idea" Obi-Wan smirked as he put his drink in the sand.

Ahsoka nodded, "FIVES! Stop making your brother cry and go help Obi-Wan! Echo, go help and I'll buy you a whole watermelon! Cody! Rex! We're going shaking for coconuts! Come on! Jesse! Grab the boys!" Ahsoka screamed, running around the beach.

When she reached the tree again, they were all watching Anakin. "Alright Anakin, this is your last chance to come down from the poor tree!" Obi-Wan called, but upon Anakin shaking his head and continued screaming, Obi-Wan sighed, "Very well. Men, let's get a coconut." Obi-Wan smiled

All at once they started shaking the tree. Anakin's grip grew tighter, "Whoa! Stop!" Anakin screamed, but they only shook harder, "No! No! Stop! I'm gonna faaAAALLLL!" Anakin cried as he went falling down to the sand, landing on Rex.

Anakin sent Rex falling into the sand, hitting his head. Rex looked up to Anakin, who was now sitting on him like he'd die if he didn't. Boy, he was fat. "You're not a coconut." Rex mumbled as his head fell back into the sand and he closed his eyes in response to the pain. Ahsoka ran and grabbed a pair of sunglasses, she then put them on Rex's face and tilted the hat to cover his face more.

"He's resting."

[iamnightduchess]

Hi!!! We miss ReiKasa and the recent post you reblogged inspired me to also ask for a potential head cannon of what Reiner and Mikasa are like when they fight/argue (and what the making up looks like ;) )!!!

Hello BB! ❤ Thank you so much for the Ask. I miss them both very much! (Feels like we're talking about our mom and dad. Why not? 😂 Dad!Reiner and Mom!Mikasa are the bomb!)

Reiner x Mikasa (ReiKasa) Argument & Making Up Canon/Modern AU Headcanon #11

These two would very rarely fight because their minds are on the same wavelength effortlessly. If they do argue, they tend to have a chicken vs egg debate/discussion. Meaning it'll always be a win-win situation.

Argument/Fighting

Reiner tends to take lead in their discussions naturally and offer the solutions but he's also an amazing listener and observer, which is extremely helpful for someone quiet and reserved like Mikasa.

Reiner's very attuned to Mikasa's body language and facial expression after months of being with her. He knows how to read her emotions wordlessly. When everyone else finds it difficult to decipher what's on her mind, Reiner can read her like an open book. However, this wasn't the case in the beginning of their relationship. Reiner had to be the one who's doing most of the approaching due to her introverted nature.

He pretty much have mastered the art of preemptive crisis aversion when it comes to Mikasa.

However, when a situation gets out of control, instead of going into a full-blown fight, Reiner would be the one to excuse himself and regroup/regulate/ground himself because he doesn't like taking his anger out on someone he truly loves/cares about.

Reiner never lets his ego takes over his arguments with Mikasa and would never disrespect her through actions or words. That is how high he values this amazing woman. He also can't bear seeing her beautiful round eyes glassy with tears because of his hurtful actions or words.

Mikasa gets overprotective over her loved ones, but she has minimal to zero ego or selfishness in her bones towards the very same group of people. However, her weakness is also that she tends to be a little possessive with Reiner but he'd always make sure there's no room for her insecurity to take control over her emotions and would always be truthful with her.

Reiner and Mikasa tend to let a little ego took over at the beginning of their relationship just like any other couple in their adjustment period but has learnt to discard it gradually in time.

Both Reiner and Mikasa are the most selfless people in not only their relationship, but also amongst close friends. In public eyes, they're a strong unit together. Behind closed doors, when they find themselves going into a heated argument (usually because of jealousy), it tends to be borderline foreplay at the same time 😏 These are the only times they'll get 'physical'

Their arguments would never be physical or screaming in the face type of altercation. Their code word for conflict resolution is : "Take it to the council." These two would sit down together, each with a paper and a pen, listing down pros and cons, and the arguments would soon turn to a debate until they reach a mutual ground. Reiner would usually make her face crack into a smile with his quirky comebacks towards the end. To Reiner, even if he lost the argument, it'll always be a win for him when he can turn her frown into a smile.

Making Up

They would never go to bed angry at each other.

It's uncanny, it's like telepathy but they would both tend to say sorry or ask "Are you alright?" at the same time.

One time Reiner and Mikasa had an argument but couldn't find a mutual ground, they both decided it was best to give each other some space and quiet time even after saying sorry to each other. But not for long though, Reiner would always be the first to find ways to break the awkward silence between them later.

(Modern AU) Reiner once did a striptease dance after their quiet dinner, telling her that night the dessert is going to be extra special 😳 Yeaps, she ended up having her dessert with an extra serving of whipping cream right on the kitchen counter. Also, Reiner really does make a mean Panna cotta. She had them both at the same time 😏

(Modern AU) Reiner also plays the guitar and he would sometimes serenade her with "I Wanna Grow Old With You" from Mikasa's favorite movie, "The Wedding Singer" (This was also the song he sang to her before he got down on one knee to pop the big question). He'd give her a backrub later before whispering an "I love you" into her ear. This man would never stop showering her with affections especially after he had unintentionally caused her to be upset.

Meanwhile, Mikasa would bake him his favorite Marleyan meatloaf or salted dark chocolate ganache as a peace offering and would just wrap her arms around his body while silently watches him eat. It calms her so much to see him enjoying her cooking.

In the Ackerman-Braun household, desserts are also their love & apology language because Reiner's a foodie and Mikasa loves to bake.

Sometimes, like most men, Reiner also has these little moments that caused him to overlook her feelings but Mikasa has learnt to open herself up more with Reiner through being more verbally expressive with him, the way he is with her so they would always be on the same page.

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Thanks again for the Ask, dear! I love working on heartwarming, wholesome headcanons like this 💕

[cdarkheartzero]

Today’s theme- “Too far”

I was skimming through some comments and such and came across @the-garbage-is-my-fandom ‘s comment of “more horror art” on my “Bathtime” piece. And I was inspired. I’m especially excited for @melodyofthevoid to tear into me like I do her when she abuses my son.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen” Dib chanted to himself choking on what little air his lungs could grasp. He had never known fear like this and his body just had no idea how to handle it.

Dib mind raced, playing the previous weeks in his head, trying to figure out what went wrong. His master plan, a small gas bomb capable of temporarily paralyzing or knocking his enemy out, was finally complete. Many a sleepless night and wasted weekend on containment structure, chemical analysis and test runs. This was it. Finally, he could capture the alien menace and expose him. Finally, he would no longer be the crazy kid. Finally, the world would see the danger they were in all along. Finally.... he would be the hero.

But this wasn’t supposed to happen.

[[More]]

Dib snuck in through the front door after Zim’s idiot sidekick carelessly left it open, making haste to the neighborhood taco truck’s sirens blaring in the distance. He cautiously entered, realizing the Invader was no where in sight and gently placed the bomb in the center of the floor of the “living room”. Carefully he made his way up to the wires completely covering the ceiling for shelter. Soon enough, Gir threw the door open, Damn near ripping it off its hinges, absolutely covered in grease and meat. It seemed the taco run was a success.

He wandered over to the “box” in the middle of the floor and started screaming for his master. “MASTAAAAA!!!! A PRESENT!!!!!!” He shrieked and screeched. How did Zim deal with this all the time?

Within a moment or two, an undisguised Zim angrily emerged from the toilet in the kitchen (which was a sight Dib never really got used to. How does a WHOLE BODY fit down the small opening of a TOILET?!)

“Gir! What nonsense are you going on about!?”

“I gots a present! I’m the birthday boy!”

Zim quickly snatched the “gift” from the metallic hands, studying it’s shotty craftsmanship briefly and returning his full attention to the wide eyed robot standing before him. “What have I told you about bringing junk into this house? First that street lamp-” “But I wanted a nightlight to keep the monkey away.” Gir quietly and somberly interrupted.

Zim sighed. Was this conversation going to go anywhere? No. No, it wasn’t. He might as well talk to the jar of mayo still sitting open on the kitchen table from 3 days ago.

He bent down, clutching the box to his abdomen and give the robot a small pat on the head. “Zim told you he took care of the monkey. It can’t hurt you anymore. But please, Gir, refrain from bringing more stuff home.” He said calmly with a defeated tone in his voice. Gir’s face lit up with a wide grin spanning from “ear to ear” (had he had them anyway). “OKAAAAAY!” He screeched and wrapped his arms around his master. Dib could swear he heard something pop and squish under the groans and painful sounds Zim was emitting.

Then there was a click.

It seemed like the blink of an eye it all happened. An explosion unlike anything Dib ever thought possible by his hands unfolding around him. Windows shattered as glass slashed through the air in every which way direction. Chunks of flooring and wall violently slammed into anything unfortunate enough to come into their path. The fogged air was tainted with this disgustingly potent smell blanketing the entire room. The resulting shock wave flung Dib from his hiding spot, colliding with the cold tiles beneath him.

He blacked out for just a moment, his body on fire and his ears ringing loudly, drowning out all other sound. His eyes slowly opened and he worked up the strength to push himself to his feet. He noticed the blood on his hands as he lifted himself. He wasn’t surprised he got cut. He just couldn’t determain how bad. He was so disoriented.

He tried his best to scan the room, eyes adjusting themselves from the bright blast that had just assaulted them. A shine in the corner grabbed his attention in the sea of rubble and destruction. The robot, Gir, was crushed into the wall by large slabs of concrete and tiles. His once blue glowing eyes dim and cracked. He remained motionless.

“Oh, no.” Dib thought, realizing the severity of his actions. “Zim!” He cried out of instinct. There was no response. There was no movement in the cloud of smoke as it slowly decepated. The clearing air revealed Zim’s limp frame sprawled out within the neon-green splattered crater the explosion created by the front door. A gigantic hole displayed the vacant interior of his chest and abdominal cavity. Every bit of his internal organs were laid on the ground. His ruby eyes open and dull with his face resting almost peaceful. Dib’s stomach dropped.

THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN.

Panic was setting in. He wanted to get close to the alien but it’s like his legs forbid such an action. So he goggled. “WHAT DO I DO?!” He blurted out to no one. He backed into the kitchen, never taking his eyes off the crater of debris and guts. His breathing jagged, his pulse racing and his throat overflowing, begging to release its contents on the oddly colored tiling. He felt sick.

“INITIATING SURVIVAL MODE”

He jumped. A sudden noise in this deafening silence. It was a voice he instantly recognized. Zim’s Computer. But it wasn’t echoing from the darkness of the house... it was coming from Zim.

The once limp body slowly started to adjust itself, trying to sit itself up. The more it moved, the more it’s contents leaked out of the organic frame. Dib just silently stared in awe....in relief.... in disgust as his fallen rival stood up. Swaying slightly as it tried to regain its balance. Their eyes locked. A shutter violently shook Dib. Zim was a lot of things. A pain in the ass. An idiot. Selfish. A narcissist. Incompetent. But this wasn’t Zim. This.... was TERRIFYING.

The creature’s thousand yard stare prickled Dib’s skin with the feeling of a million bugs crawling on his person. The paranormal investigator watched-even from several feet away- the speedy throbbing of the veins protruding around It’s eyes. The alien opened his mouth to speak and all that came out through the river of brightly colored blood was the sound of static. It was painful. SO PAINFUL to hear. Dib wanted to shield his ears from the sound but his body stood there still.

The creature’s attention tore away from Dib for a moment, eyeing the damaged robot. His PAK opened up, aggressively flinging his long, thin, robotic legs outwards. The legs came down one by one, echoing a small “clink” on the floor as the razor sharp ends touched the tile. His body lifted and made his way to the faithful metallic companion. Without saying a word, Dib watched as Zim’s body pried the heavy debris pinning the small robot. Gir’s body was released and the gloved hands gently caught him before he could fall on the floor.

THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN

“Zim.... I swear.... I didn’t mean to...-“

He was caught off when the red eyes turned to his direction again. Even without pupils or Iris’, Dib could feel the daggers being thrown at him. The mouth opened to speak. “Gir.... why?”

Dib backed up one more step, further into the kitchen. Zim’s voice.... it was wrong. Metallic. Cold. Disoriented. Unlike anything he had ever heard before. Words caught in Dib’s throat but he mustered all his strength to release them. “It was an accident. It-it was just supposed to knock you out.” Dib continued to ramble. “I don’t know what happened!”

“Miserable”

Dib tensed up “W-what is?”

“Your existence brings misery. To your planet. To your family. To anyone unfortunate enough to come into contact with you.”

Those words cut Dib’s soul deep. It’s like Zim could read his worst fears. Something he kept hidden- that black stain in his heart-all this time. Exposed. Just like that.

Before he could say anything, the alien continued “ You have always been an annoyance, you sickening human. We cannot escape you. Your voice. Your presence. Your smell. Forever a thorn in our side. The reason my tallest find me nothing more than entertainment. Why Zim can never succeed in his goals. Now this....the only good Zim had...” he said staring at Gir’s face.

“What is he talking about? What did I do with his leaders?” Dib pondered, eyes frantically shifting between Zim’s body and the door behind him.

His neck snapped in Dib’s direction. “But that’s not the worst part. Zim always heard it. For years. It was always following me.” The legs carried him one step closer to the kitchen. Dib silently took a step backwards. “There. Annoying me. Attacking his senses. A constant reminder of the misery you cause. Zim will rid himself of this....this sound...”

Dib needed to flee. But how? This creature was in front of the door!

Zim’s lips curled up. His smirk growing, stretching wider and wider, tearing the ends of his mouth apart. Blood leaking down the sides of his face as the smile grew to sizes ever more disturbing. It was like he was trying to separate the top and bottom of head. There was a silence. With a grin unseen by human eyes before, The creature chucked.

“OnCe I sILeNcE tHaT hEaRt Of YoUrS, wiLl ZiM FiNaLLy bE FrEe?

As the creature leapt towards the investigator, his body (FINALLY) responded by quickly dodging out of the way, slamming into the sink. The thin, metallic legs crashed into the dining room table decimating it instantly. Without so much as a thought, Dib crawled into the trash can and landed into the claustrophobic elevator to the lab. He panted and shook. It was a terrible idea to go down to the labs. A territory not his. He was out of his element and he wasn’t sure how he would escape. But it beat staying up there and getting ripped to shreds. The pink glow of the elevator made him even more on edge.

The doors opened, startling Dib who was frantically lost in thought. He ran from the elevator, peeking behind tables, tubes and anything else while keeping his senses sharp and alert. Zim was somewhere. Maybe he could just take the elevator back up and leave? But what if he was still in the kitchen?

There was a high-pitched screech pouring from the shaft he had just exited. The elevator lights flickered, sparks raining down and the glow of Zim’s upside down eyes peeked through its opening. His legs slowly pulled him out, adjusting he and Gir (whom was still being cradled) upright. “Diiiiiiiiib.... I kNoW YoU aRe In HeRe....” it gargled.

Dib patiently waited, holding back his sobs and screams, for the towering monster to pass. He needed to keep running. Find the elevator to the toilet! It was the only way! He hid. And ran. Hid. And ran. It was the most horrifying game of cat and mouse conceivable. The longer it went on, the worse it seemed to get for him. He couldn’t find the exit. And he couldn’t find Zim. Not that he WANTED to find him, but at least pass him to know he was still in this metallic labyrinth. That the kitchen was clear.

Finally, he stumbled upon what he assumed was the elevator on the other side of a large room. He was so close-! Within a single second, his joy faded to nothingness by the familiar sound of scraping. He watched the shadow on the floor as it shakily passed by the table Dib had temporarily chosen as shelter. It stopped and stood still like a statue momentarily: Then went about it’s way. “Finally-! To that door!”

He sprinted to the exit, knocking a few items from a table and catching the beast’s attention. Running with all the strength his body had to offer, he was finally within reach of the button left of the doorframe. His fist slammed into it and the sounds of the creature hurried closer, bellowing his name in a mortifying shriek.

The double doors opened. Dib threw his body into the room only to hit into something and get pelted with tools and cans tumbling from above. Realization slapped him in the face. This isn’t an elevator....

This is a closet.

With heavy dread, Dib turned his face to see that he and the creature were mere inches away from each other. There was no where to go. Never taking his eye’s off Zim’s, he felt two sharp knives glide over his ribcage, gently banging on each bone as they made their way to their target. It’s face had a permanent smile, gradually becoming more and more uncontrollable the harder and faster the thrashing in Dib’s chest became. As the blades slowly began digging in and red blood mixed with green, 5 words continuously haunted his thoughts.

THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN

Thanks so much to anyone that read this! I hope you enjoyed!