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punk-in-docs · 2 years

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Prince Paul spreading his wife over a dining table so he can eat her relentlessly 🤤🤤🤤

🥀The Matter of a Good Taste 🥀

AN: relentlessly you say? *Cracks knuckles*

I’ve written so much Prince Paul pussy eating I’m starting to think it’s my kink that I always seem to get this man on his knees to give some amazingly fantastic head when irl he probably never even ate a pussy once but you know what? Fuck it. Also this came out far sweeter than I had intended? Idk how. TW: none really apart from some serious pent up need oral.

Nights at the palace slip in all soft. Slippery and holding the gentle density of clouds.

It’s a rather stark change to the brutality of court in the day. All the velvet draped daggers and sugar faked smiles. The grins that then vanish in passing.

Snide acidic comments designed to poke like sharp gleaming needles. Designed to find the space between the ribs. Whispers wriggle like hissing snakes at your bodiced silk back.

Mornings are a parting wrench. You don your costume to please them all. Tie the stays tight. Lip rouge the colour of split blood. Heartthrob red.

You far prefer the nights. Time that narrows down - tapers, whittled - right the way down to you and Paul. When the candles burn their tongues of gold and spin the room to shadow and gems. Sparkling like the Crown Jewels.

You sit down to dine together and pour way too much wine. A heavy dinner. Always heavy. The same pallid creamy white soup. Roast meat - bloody and smothered sticky with dark wine sauce. Potatoes and onions with thyme and sage. A meal that sits heavy and clunking in your belly.

You chat about your days. You tell him about the tea party for the girls orphanage, and the earned shreds of gossip whispered out the side of Milena’s mouth. He tells you about the military coup, the uprisings. The jagged feeling towards the crown.

When the staff fade away with their chattering’s and cease heavy footfalls on the parquet. That’s your favourite. When peace descends. Thick like a smothering eiderdown.

The exquisite squeeze when your maid undoes your stays. When you can finally breathe out. The hot steam of a bath clearing your sinuses. Clean spice of tuberose soap and being wrapped in a cool cloaking chemise for bed. The smooth cotton sheets crisp and cold that you slide into, as you wait on Paul to join you.

You’d never tell him your habit. That each night as you lay in your bed, you listen out for his footfalls. You smile when you hear them coming closer outside the doors.

And you wait an awful long wait, tonight.

He doesn’t appear to be coming.

The carriage clock on the huge golden mantel strikes twelve. The chimes mock you with their tinny echoing cry. He should be in here, arms stuck wrapped around your back. Lips in your neck. Maybe a rough tumbling fuck if the day has been hellish.

Another half hour. And before the next can come, you throw the covers off and go in search of your absent husband.

Padding barefoot over the numerous antique rugs. Through the gilded doors. You find him in the dining room. Firelight shines wetly off the polished surface of the table. Ripping and curling orange. He’s staring. Transfixed by it.

He’s sat there in his shirt, undone waistcoat, and breeches. Ruffled neck wide open. Whisky eyes cast and doused in flame. Dormant like one of the outer crust of the stuffed animals displayed on these walls. The brushed hyde of glassy eyed stags or the great still plumage of some exotic bird eternally perched.

You lean against the huge door. Hips pressed to the golden handle. Stay to your silence. Watching him for a moment.

When day was done it was a release for you. An undressing. Unwind. For Paul it seemed less so.

Sometimes the tranquility that undid you, paved the way for a whole crush of thoughts in his head. Sisyphus and his boulder up that hill. The press of a frown pinching brows.

Heavy was the head that cannot yet seize the crown.

No one else gets this view of him. You made your mind up to adore it. He was all cherubim beauty. So striking. You thought the very same thing the first time you laid eyes on him. Definitely not a weak chin.

The pillow set of pink lips made to mouth at. Made to bite. The melty eyes that swing between venom and boyish levelled at you. The lush line of his jaw and the way his hair is set with a natural curl. The flick of doe lashes that really should be flecked with dew, they’re so girlish-pretty.

“Something vexes you?” You ask. Crossing your arms and gently intruding into the room. Hair loose down your back tickling your waist.

He looks over at you like he’s startled. Eyes all big and flame captured. Lips part softly. Like he’s a bunny been caught out by the hawk.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” He asks. His tone ripe with accusation. Throat bobs where he swallows.

You lay your vicious tongue to rest tonight. There’s no need for your dagger sharp words.

“You don’t escape my notice that easily.” You level shrewdly.

Not like how you escape hers.

The woman who is surely preying on his head right now. The glorious Empress, whose long casting shadow governs and hovers his every tiny step.

He doesn’t really respond. In the way he does when he can’t lay his thoughts to bed. Where his head is too heavy and buzzing full to lay on the pillow beside yours. Too itinerant.

You walk to his side. Hesitate before touching him. In case he snaps and insists he needs his space.

He tips his eyes across your body. Sees you whole where you’re stood.

The fire brushed strokes of fuzzy apricot across your chemise. He can see the shape of your naked body barely concealed underneath. Soap skimmed skin. Pillow crease caught in your cheek. Warm dewy from rest.

“Rough day.” He finally answers.

You nod. Just nod.

“Shall I keep to my rooms tonight, Tsarevich?” You enquire. Face a cold bed. Space gaping. Unfilled on the pillow opposite.

You say it without teasing. Without jest. You don’t purr flirt at him. You ask genuinely.

“Don’t.” He answers weakly. Throat bobs again.

You tip your head to the side.

Decide finally to slide towards him and run your fingers through his hair. Hip against the table. Stroking fingers through his pretty curls. The fire shot yellow gold some of the tresses. Chestnut too.

You want to tell him to lay it to rest. Whatever it is. Be done with it now. That the beast plaguing him will seem less daunting - will have its sharp teeth blunted by the dawn after a full night of rest.

He leans to you. Hands come for your hips and tugs you in.

Rests his head against your belly. Rubs his forehead into you there. Mashes his face to your soft body. Rolls to you the way the tide rushes to meet the shore. Breathes perfume and soap. You.

You in pure gunpowder shot form. Dynamite strong. Closes his eyes. Hugs you like he’s been lost at sea for months. Drugged on nearness.

Intoxicated on the fact you’re impossible and bolshy. Hardest, sharpest woman he’s ever met; yet you’re being so easy for him now. No challenge laid before him.

“Anything I can do?” You ask. Feeling the warmth of his skin under your palms where you slide down his shoulders. Kneading skin. Nails withdrawn tonight.

The air shifts on those words. Tumbles away like ash on the breeze.

He pulls back and gazes up at you. Flick of long lashes. Something stirs in his eyes. He looks up at you before suddenly he’s rising to his feet with the scrape of the chair slicing into the silence.

He cups the back of your neck and kisses you firmly. Cotton sleeves drape to your body as he pressed his whole self to you. His lips becomes insistent. Kiss warps into hunger.

He’s ripping away to nip your neck and lick kisses at your shoulders. Back pressed firmly up against the hard edge of the table. His body keeps you there. He’s pawing at your chemise. Melting his mouth to yours again as fumbled hands slip your skirts up.

He’s giving you kisses that make your heart slip to warm treacle. Pouring down your ribs and melting. Stunning your lips drunk that this is how he wants to soothe a bad day. With the endless press and utterly blotting sensation of you.

His cheeks are furiously pink. Eyes black savage pits. Lips all sore. He keeps his hold on your mouth and makes your breath come short.

He plucks you up off the floor and spreads you on the table like you’re the next dinner course. Whips your chemise up to your knees. Lays you back.

You gasp. “Paul. Here?”

He can offer no answer.

His eyes burn shiny with the newly unveiled skin of your thighs right down to your toes. The arch of your legs. Plump thigh. Shapely calves. Delicious pussy all bare. Lips plump and cast in firelight. Ready for him.

He throws one of your chunky thighs over his back, and takes to one knee to eat you out.

Bliss bites right through you - clean through - spiking your blushes to top pitch. Making you shiver. Thighs seek to curl around his head and your hand shoots up to rake your nails through his silky hair.

You groan with the puffy glide of his fat tongue over your pussy. Lathing and searching. Swiping for your taste and diving for more. You taste like every tart sweet fruit - sugared and full with juice. Ripe to burst.

He doesn’t rush a single thing about this; takes his time to prod his tongue into you. Spread you open with tongue alone. Opens the bowl of your hips wide, wider, with his hands digging to the meat on your thighs. Fingers leaving dips in flesh.

Licks and laps at the new fresh slick he coaxed free. He’s chasing your pleasure. Not his. He’s going on search of it; a determined conquest. Touching you like you’re the holiest thing he’s ever known. Ever tasted.

You’re all sighs and easy moans as he digs his face into your mons. Inhaling the smell of your soap that clings to your curls. Eyes flutter closed with the pleasure of it.

“I love when you melt for me.” He says. Breath bursts in warm puffs over your pussy when he speaks. When you uncurl from being impossible and stubborn.

You catch sight of his lips. Glossy. He’s wearing a wet orange smear in the low amber light of the fire.

“I don’t melt for anyone. My angel.” You sigh. Hips leaping to his face as he suckles your clit like a nursing babe. Whining high as you slip your fingers through his scalp.

“Just you.” You gasp. Bliss draped upon every word.

His spit squelches into you. He spits and drools to make you wetter. He likes it. Spitting frothy globs into you, and scooping it out with his tongue when the taste has changed entirely to you. Swirling it around because he loves to have you dripping.

Juices are flowing out of you and dribbling slowly to leave a slippery stain on this shiny table. When he next eats a meal here, in this very chair. He’ll smile remembering this moment.

He twists his head to lap at a new angle. Eyes focused on yours. And it hurts to tear away. You watch him and it makes him want to cum in his breeches right then and there.

It’s hypnotic to have him work you over with his mouth. You adore it when there’s hate-fucking and anger involved; you simply shatter to incomprehensible pieces when there’s slow romantic passion, mixed into the bargain.

He eats you like he’s trying to study you with his tongue. Like he can root out some answers in your taste. That heady flavour of flesh and sex and woman - somehow tangy somehow sweet. Elixir of life;

He swirls tiny sloppy circles around the swelling bead of your clit. Fingertips coming into play - the man was a studying military strategist. That came into use in times like these; rubbing your folds - up down up down - before pushing those slick fingertips in. Sinking deep enough to earn a rise out of you.

He eases back, takes his tongue away to watch as he used just his fingers instead. Watching your face. Watching the glide and pump of curling them to you until he finds a rhythm that drags that silken and soaked giving spot a teasing tickle inside you.

When your hips start to jump and you start squirming. He knows he’s found what he’s after.

That divine spread inside you that rose with every knuckle deep thrust of his fingers. Every vicious swipe with his tongue that cracks flickers of lightning across your nerves. Makes you throb with it. God he’s good.

Suction coming relentless and heavy from his mouth, scorching patterns in harsh zig-zags across your swollen lips. Fingers encouraging that all encompassing pang of pleasure that will wipe out your brain to blank when you cum.

He’s digging his face right in and eating determinedly - relentlessly, to get after that leg shaking portion of your climax that’s steadily growing.

Terrifying trapping fingers travelling up your cunt walls as they flutter fast on his fingers. You’re laying back on the dining room table, near sobbing with the need to cum.

He’s just drinking in every sensation soaked second as he gulps you down. Half to ease away his tensions; half because making you cum has become an occupation that’s scored its devotion on his heart. When he dies he hopes they crack open his chest and find it sat there in bleeding tattooed letters. It feels like it should be.

Wordlessly, he brutally shoved you to the knife edge of your orgasm that has you literally bursting. The shudder of your hips betrays it first. How he doesn’t alter his pace; he keeps steady as he coaxed you through: the way you taught him.

Don’t speed up just because I’m close. Keep steady with whatever it is you’re doing.

You’d taught him that on your honeymoon hazy watercolour memories all misty to recall. With your clit captured in his mouth and your fingers fisted in his hair.

He’s a good student. He makes you gush into and all over his mouth. Spurting across the table top and he hums with the bliss of your release and doesn’t stop just because you do.

He drives and drags and slurps up every tender drop. Nurses you into the aftershocks with his tongue. Gentle gathered little noises as he swallows and gains his breath again. Tries to take control of his heart and the buzzing in his ears.

You’re slowly fading from shouts to whines. Fingers grappled into his on your now clammy thighs. Where you’d thrashed and wailed. Your hands held firm to him like anchors.

“My god, you give good head, my love.” You sigh. Back arching and your eyes still flicked closed.

“I was instructed by the best.” He insists. Before dropping an open mouthed kiss right on your cunt.

“Same time tomorrow?“ You ask with an impetuous smile. The clock strikes two.

He gazes back at from between your legs. Smile finally having returned. Eyes all slippery warm with passion.

“Minx.”

“Yes, but entirely yours.”

“Bed?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 6 months

Text

WC ::: 5,200

A/N ::: I have it bad for Bakugo right now. I pretty much worked on this all damn day. Which will explain any errors you may find. I read and reread on Google Docs but it's almost 11pm and my tired eyes can take no more. It if's horrific, please tell me so I can fix it. I hate a misspelled word. Grammatical is fine. Love grammatical errors. I do them on purpose. Now I'm rambling and need to go to bed. Enjoy! Thank you for having Baku-Flu with me.

C/W ::: Too tired to elaborate. I'll fix it tomorrow. But MINORS, LOOK DOWN AND WALK AWAY. DOWN ... AWAY. Aged up Bakugo, Sorta slow burn, playful banter, alcohol use (not much), oral {M->F}, sex, quippy conversation. The End. Like I said, I'll fix this tomorrow, objectifying Bakugo? Admiring his ass. Idk. Leave me alone.

Hard to Get

It wasn't long after you turned on the tv that your mind started to wander. You were thinking about your best friend's birthday party you just got home from. You were thinking about Bakugo who was there, looking so delicious.

His neck muscles turned and twitched whenever he moved his head or swallowed something. His lips curled into a sick and tight smirk whenever he looked at you. Your stomach would drop to your pussy and it made you feel sick in the best way.

The show you were watching was of little interest. Your hands had been resting on your spread legs as you lay on the couch, rubbing your inner thighs in slow, soft circles. Unaware of just how much you were turning yourself on while mindlessly daydreaming of him. Of Bakugo, being the one who's resting between your knees, touching you so sweetly. Wishing he was the one edging you closer and closer to your release.

The clock on your mantel chimed, signaling the end of this day and the start of a new one. You had no reason to stay up so you decided to call it and go to bed. You brush your teeth. Wash your face (with cold water - one last attempt at cooling yourself off) and climb into bed.

It was an hour before you even felt tired and it pissed you off that you laid there tossing and turning for so long. Still horny. Still too stubborn to give in and bring yourself some relief. You didn't want to touch yourself. You wanted Bakugo to do it. And since he wasn't here, you were going to throw a little hissy fit that only you would know about. Whatever.

You were just nodding off in your soft blankets and warm bed when your phone lit up and a pretty little chime resonated through your dark room.

"Hey." Is all it said. You didn't recognize the number, not even a little bit. So you texted back that they have the wrong number. No one you know generally texts this late at night anyway. Putting the phone down on your nightstand you rolled over and squished yourself back down into the mattress.

"No, I don't have the wrong number. I got this from {friend's name}, y/n =)."

"Ok, so all that tells me is you're a creepy asshole who harassed my best friend and got my cell number from them. Lose it. Permanently."

"Tsktsktsk. That's no way to talk to the guy who you were making fuck me eyes at over the birthday cake. Now is it, sweetheart?"

You laughed, "{Males name}, I'm so relieved to hear from you! I thought since you were there with your wife and kids you wouldn't notice me making fuck me eyes at you. When can I see you again? WITHOUT the fam, ok? They were a real drag."

"The FUCK! You calling me a creepy asshole is real rich. It's Bakugo, dumbass."

"Who?" This was too fun.

"Oh my God, you're so annoying, y/n. Bye. YOU lose MY number PERMANENTLY!"

"Bakugo, waitttt wait wait! I'm fucking with you lol! Jesus. You're so serious all the time! What're you doing up so late? Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"I don't have a bedtime, little girl. I make my own rules, baby."

"Who you calling a little girl? I'll have you know I no longer piss the bed. Well, unintentionally, anyway."

"YOU'RE FUCKING SICK!"

"You love it. There's no shame when it comes to sex. The dirtier the better, I say."

"..."

"Pussy got your tongue?"

"What?"

You huffed, "Pussy (Cat) got your tongue?"

"..."

Minutes passed before he said anything so you texted him again. "You typing with one hand? You know, some phones have a one-handed setting. It might be helpful for when you're ... well, using one hand for typing and one hand for something else. Just FYI. Anyway, if you're done, I'm going to try and get some sleep. I have stuff I gotta do tomorrow."

"..."

And that was the end of that conversation with Bakugo.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You woke up just the way you went to sleep: Horny. But you overslept and had some things to take care of before you could even think about doing that. Your shower was quick and way less hot than usual. The clothes you put on were loose-fitting and casual. This is what Saturday's were made for. Being comfortable, getting shit done and then spending the day lounging around.

There was one parking spot left at the post office and you were about to take it when some fucker on a motorcycle swooped in and stole it right out from underneath your tires.

"What the fuck, asshole!" You got out of your car and yelled at the person with the black, stickered helmet sitting on their shoulders. "I was going to park there, kindly move your fucking bike? Jesus."

The person came over to you and stood unnervingly close. So close to you that you had to back up against your car. "Um, personal space, dick." You pushed them away, your fingers dug into their hard chest muscles. You had to admit, with how much you've wanted to fuck lately, they felt so good. But that didn't change the fact they were a total piece of shit for taking this so far.

"You don't recognize me, little girl?"

"Little girl??" Where have you heard that recently. You narrowed your eyes and said, "{Males name}? Is that you hiding your asshole face behind the helmet?"

The man laughed and pulled his helmet off. "Yeah, yeah. It's me, {Males name}. You're a fucking idiot." He chuckled again and leaned in to hug you.

"Heyyy, Bakugo." You said in a quiet little voice. You wrapped your arms around his neck and backed yourself up the rest of the way against your car, pulling him with you. "You ..." you exhaled in his ear, "are so ..." pushing your tits into his pecs, "fucking ... mmmuch of an asshole." Pushing him away you pointed at the spot he took before you even had a chance to turn your blinker on. "I - why do you even need a whole spot? You can just leave that dumb thing on the sidewalk!"

"DON'T!" He grabbed you by the cheeks, squishing them together, causing your lips to squish out. His sudden movement and his hands so rough on you made you weak in the knees. "Don't talk about her like that. Ok?" He looked at his motorcycle and back at you.

You put your hands up, surrendering yourself to his tantrum. "S-sorry. Shit, sorry, ok?" He let go of your face and took a couple of steps back. "What did you need to do here? I can do it for you." He offered.

"I just have to ship this package and drop this in the outbox. I think I can handle it." You started to get back into your car.

"I'm sorry. Fuck. I didn't mean to ---" you shook your head at him, silently asking him to not bother with the apology.

"I get it. And you know what? Here." You tossed the small package to him and dug a $10 out of your pocket and gave that to him as well. "Thanks, parking spot stealer. Catch ya on the flipside."

He moved out of the way as you drove off without so much as a smile, a wave or even a resentful glare.

But he waved at you.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

The next time you saw Bakugo was at the coffee shop with your friend's boyfriend. You walked in and saw him with his stupid pointy blond hair and that stupid grimace on his stupid ... hot face.

You pretended to not see him even though you noticed him as soon as you walked up to the large window front.

The door chimed, signaling the entrance of a new patron. For some reason, all eyes went to you. Like you were the millionth customer or something.

Still, you kept your eyes on the floor and made your way straight to the order counter.

The cashier took your order and you were about to hand them the $9 for your fancy coffee when Bakugo swooped in and pushed your hand down so he could pay for you.

"Hey, y/n. Uh, lemme get this for ya? Let me make it up for the other day, yeah?" He tried to smile but it didn't really come across as much of a smile. More like a dominant show of teeth.

"Oh, you're ... you're here, too. I can pay for this, thanks tho---" You did your best to convince him to fuck off. But he wouldn't have any of it.

"Goddamn it, don't be an asshole. Let me buy you a coffee. C-consider this will be like a first step in our dating life, hm?" Fuck, he was hot. And he had at least one friend. Even if that friend was your best friend's boyfriend.

"Jesus, Bakugo. Fine! Fine. Pay for the damn coffee. Thanks. Thank you. Ok? You happy? I owe you now." You stepped back so he could pay. He put his hand on the curve of your waist as he moved passed you. It was fairly obvious what kind of effect it had on you. Your face turned a sweet shade of pink, your eyes blew out until they were almost all pupils. You just hoped he wouldn't see.

"You ok, y/n? You look like yo'ure going to barf." He asked.

"I'm not going to barf, you idiot. I just," you looked down the front of his body and left your eyes on his inseam.

"Y/n? you just ...?" He lifted your chin with his index finger, bent down a little and tilted his head to look into your eyes before your face was completely up.

"Huh? Wha-? Oh! I just need coffee. Just ... coffee. Can I get that to go, please? I gotta, I gotta go." You grabbed the coffee and stormed out.

"Hey! Y/n, whe- wait!" Bakugo called after you but you didn't stop. "The fuck. The actual fuck." He said to his friend.

They shrugged. "I've always thought she was a little odd." He laughed.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You called up your friend who gave him your cell number. Immediately going into your yelled speech as soon as they answered their phone.

"WHAT is wrong with you? You know, since you gave that dumbass my phone number he's been texting me and turning up everywhere I go! Did you give him my calendar too? 'Cuz I swear to fucking god, he was at the post office the other day. He stole my fucking parking spot. And then he was at the coffee shop just now. I swear to god he's everywhere now, {best friend's name}!! What have you done?"

"Who is this?" She laughed.

"Fuck, really?!" You yelled at her again. "I'm serious. He's everywhere. He's ... he's ..." You couldn't finish your thought.

"Hot as shit? You want his cock? You want his lips all over your body? You want his babiessss!? Oh my god! You want his babies!" She was in hysterics at this thought.

"You're the devil. You're really ... straight from hell. And I love you. But he's popping up in the places I frequent that I've never seen him at before."

There was silence on her end, until you heard voices in the background.

"Is {boyfriend's name} home?" You waited for her to answer you, hearing a third voice in the room. "Is Bakugo there? Jesus Christ. He's stealing you from me. I gotta go. I'll talk to you later." Enough was enough. Though you didn't know how friendly he had been with them in the past, you do know that Bakugo was becoming more and more a part of your life and the lives of your close friends.

Your cell rang. It was a number that you hadn't saved, but you suspected it was your new stalker.

"Hello, Bakugo?"

"Hi, pissy pants. Come over." You didn't love the nickname.

"Come over where? And no. I don't want to." You couldn't help but smile. You were really enjoying the attention he was giving you. Despite your best efforts to hate him, he was wearing you down.

"Come to your girlfriend's house. We're having an impromptu game night. Bring some shit to drink. See you in 30. And don't shower. You smell great as it is. See ya, sweetheart." And he hung up. Not even giving you a change to protest his garbage invitation to someone else's house.

"Don't shower? That's ... huh." You grabbed your keys and wallet and drove to the store to buy some shit to drink, as per his instruction.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You parked in your friend's driveway, essentially blocking Bakugo's motorcycle in between your car and their garage. You laughed at how pissed it would probably make him. A silent victory.

A petty victory.

Walking in the front door, you saw Bakugo sitting on the couch. His legs spread, hands resting on his thighs. Just daring you to look at him. Anywhere.

"What's going on tonight?" You asked. "Asshat over here called me and told me to bring shit to drink and that it was an impromptu game night? Well, I'm here and I have the shit." Raising the bottles in your hand you showed them off to the 3 other people there.

They all cheered and came to you. Your friend and her boyfriend took the bottles and Bakugo gave you a hug. A lingering hug.

"Hi, pissy pants," he smiled devilishly at you and pressed his hips into yours and his nose into your neck.

It sends a pulse throughout your whole body. You slipped and your breath got caught in your throat. You hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Excited to see me, too? Good. I can't stop thinking about you." He said against your ear.

"I, uh ... yeah. What's up?" You patted him on the back and pushed him away, taking a deep breath when you were finally free of his grasp. "Who's ready for game night? Let's go!"

The next hour or so went by in a haze. The group of you laughing and drinking and playing some board game that was on the coffee table. You won a lot. Bakugo kept losing and it made you smile. He was a terrible loser to his core. There was no in between. At one point, he almost flipped the coffee table over.

You were starting to get drunk. You knew it because that display of raw agitation at something so stupid made your stomach knot up. His shit coping was turning you on.

"I'll be right back." You stood and walked down the hallway to the bathroom. You walked in and turned the light on and shut the door behind you. You tried to shut it behind you but there was a foot in the way. "Jesus. Bakugo, what the fuck." You laughed.

He pushed his way in and locked the door behind him. "We're … talking."

"Now?" You asked. "I was just about to pee. You can wait." You started to walk back toward the door but he grabbed your waist and pushed you back against the sink.

"We're talking, y/n. So fucking listen."

"Ok, I'm listening. What do you want to talk about?" You smiled up at him, your lips slightly parted and your eyes set on his.

"You." He said. "You're driving me fucking insane, ya fuckin' brat. You're always walking around with those pretty tits and that fat ass, making me lose my goddamn mind. I can't stop thinking about you. Your lips, your pussy ... Fuck. I wanna taste you." His hands were all over you. Raking up and down your back, over your ass and thighs.

"Mmm, you think I have a fat ass?" You whispered. He nodded. "You're so silly, Bakugo. You think you can just say those things to me and I'll let you have me? You really think that?"

He nodded again. "I'm going to have you. And you're … going to let me. That's how this is gonna go."

"Is it?" You laughed. "What if I say no?"

"Then I'm going to fuck you anyway. You want me to. I know it. I like games too, sometimes. I can play any ... little ... thing … you … want. But, I'm just going to take what I want, y/n. And you're going to be begging me to keep going." He grabbed your tits and squeezed them until you moaned.

"I bet you'd love that." You exhaled.

"Fuck, I bet you would too." He pulled you in for a kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you could feel your body getting hot. Your reaction to him was just about the most primal thing you'd ever experienced. You two were drawn to each other like magnets.

"Mmm ... mm-mm." You pushed him back and put your fingers to your lips. "What are we doing, Bakugo? This ... I don't know what you think this is ... but ... I just." You shook your head. "I need to pee. So ... shoo! Go on."

"You're so full of shit. Just admit you want me as much as I want you." He licked his lips and turned around, unlocking the door and walking out. "See you in a minute." He winked at you.

You locked the door behind him and went to the toilet. You looked at yourself in the mirror. "This can't be real. This can't be fucking real." You sat down and tried to compose yourself.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

The next time you saw Bakugo was at the grocery store. You were getting some groceries for the week when you heard someone behind you clearing their throat.

It was him.

"Hi, pissy pants. Fancy seeing you here, of all places."

"Ohh-kayy. You don't even fucking live in this neighborhood! What the hell are you doing over here? Seriously, Bakugo." You looked around to make sure there were people who could hear you. "I don't love you! You need to stop following me, I WILL call the police, you freak!" You couldn't stay composed any longer and started to laugh.

"Oh, ha-ha. God you're an asshole." He eventually laughed, too. "Seriously, though. You won't text me back. Why?"

You shrugged, "I dunno. You're weird."

"What do you mean by that, y/n?"

"You're ... just ... I don't know." You shook your head. "I need to get back to my shopping."

He nodded. "Yeah, I get it. I'm not what you thought I'd be. Not really. But I'm not all bad, either, y/n."

"Hmm, I don't know. I think you're ... well, maybe I've misjudged you. It's not like I really know you. But, I don't know. I'm sorry for saying you're weird. You're not weird, necessarily. I don't know." You looked at him, curious about what he'd say next.

"It's ok. I'm used to people thinking I'm an asshole. It's just ... I like you. I wanna ... I don't know." He leaned over his cart and put his chin in the palms of his hands.

"Go out with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask, y/n! This is, oh my gosh. This is all so sudden! Yes! Yes, of course I'll go out with you!" He smirked. "Let me know when, y/n. See ya later, sweetheart." He took off in the opposite direction, knowing full well you were staring at his ass.

You bit your lip and watched him walk away. "Yup, still hot. Fuck."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

It was the night of your friend's boyfriend's birthday party. Bakugo had been texting you for days, trying to figure out where you'd be and what you'd be doing. You told him you'd be there. So there you were. In a pretty red dress that hugged your curves. And matched his eyes.

"Well, hello." He said as you walked up to him. "Wow, you look so fucking sexy. I love this. I love this dress. I love ... it." He was trying to contain himself.

"Oh, this old thing?" You giggled and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him onto the dance floor. "Dance with me, Bakugo!"

"I'm not really much of a dancer."

"That's disappointing. They say that men who dance are 10x's more likely to make a woman climax in bed. Or on the couch. Or the shower. Anywhere. Guess I'll dance by myself." You shrugged and laughed at your bullshit fact and the effect it had on his face.

"Oh my God, you're going to be the death of me, y/n. Come on." He put his arm around your waist and you two danced for the rest of the night.

A slow song came on and he pulled you to him. He tucked your hand against his chest and he held you close by the small of your back with his right hand. “You having fun, y/n?” He asked, looking down the front of your dress.

“Not as much fun as you, apparently. I can feel that, by the way.” You smirked, gesturing down between the two of you with your eyes. “But yeah, I am, actually. Thank you for dancing with me. You’re surprisingly not that shit at it.”

Bakugo lay his head down on your shoulder and softly kissed your neck. "Let's get out of here." He said, his lips touching your ear as he raised his head and whispered to you. "Let's go back to your place."

You nodded. "Yes. NOW." You grabbed his hand and walked out.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Once you got to your place, you ran upstairs and put on some music. Your favorite song came on and you danced around your room for a minute before Bakugo walked in, looking at you with the most heavy, lustful eyes you've ever seen.

He slowly walked over to you and put his hands on your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. It was sweet and soft. "Y/n. How hot you are."

You shook your head, "Me? Bakugo, you are ... you are ... so fucking hot. You make me feel so ... I don't know. Like ... like I have no control over myself. You just ... you do this thing to me. It's like my whole body catches fire and then melts and I just want to ... fuck, I want to fuck you."

"I think I can make that happen." He looked at you, waiting for you to make the next move.

You pulled him over to your bed and pushed him down on it. "I'm in charge. Got it? I'm in charge." You climbed on top of him, your hands pushing his shoulders back as you straddled his waist.

"No, no you're not. But nice try." He flipped you over and held your wrists above your head. "You're mine, y/n. You're all fucking mine. I'm going to make you feel good. I'm gonna make you cum so hard, you'll be screaming my name for days because you’ll be too damn stupid to remember anything else." He smiled and kissed your neck, his hand moving down your body to your panties.

You gasped and bucked your hips up, "Fuck, Bakugo. That feels so good." Your fingers were in his hair, pulling it at the roots.

He pushed your panties to the side and slipped two fingers inside your pussy. "Jesus. You're so fucking wet, y/n. Is this for me? This wet pussy is for me? Fuck." He pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb rubbing your clit in slow, tight circles.

Your back arched off the bed, "God, yes, Bakugo. Fuck! Oh my fucking god, th- ... Don't … Please don't fucking stop!" You screamed.

"You gonna cum for me, baby? Huh? You gonna cum all over my fingers? I know you are. But not yet." He pulled his fingers from you, licked them clean and kissed your lips.

You grabbed his face and kissed him back, tasting yourself on his tongue. "Bakugo, I want ... lemme suck your cock."

"Hohhh fuck." He moaned. "You will, sweetheart. You will. But not right now. Right now ..." he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down around his knees. His cock was hard and throbbing.

"Oh, fuck, Bakugo." Your eyes were wide with wonder as you sat up on your elbows on the bed. The dress pooled around your waist and your panties sat haphazardly covering your cunt. None of that mattered. All you could see right now was his huge cock.

And it saw you, too.

"It's yours, y/n. It's all fucking yours. So fucking take it, you little brat." He pushed your legs apart and rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit. "Is this what you want? Huh? This big fucking cock inside of your little pussy? Is it?"

"Oh my god, Bakugo! I do, so bad." You whimpered.

"I know you do. That's why I'm going to give it to you." He pushed himself inside of you, slowly stretching you out until you were begging for more.

"More, Bakugo. Give me more. Fuck, fuck me! Oh my god!" You pulled him down on top of you, your hands clawing at his back.

"Fuck, y/n. You're so fucking tight, baby. You're so fucking wet and tight. God, this pussy is perfect. I'm going to fuck you every day, you got that?" He started to thrust faster, his hips slamming into yours with each stroke.

Your back arched up off the bed as he fucked you. You were on the edge, your orgasm building with every move he made. "Oh? Gettin' close? I guess all that dancing really paid off. I should slow the fuck down. Wouldn't want you cumming too fast now. Nnnope." He slowed to a barely discernible drag. Your eyes nearly went full white as they twisted to the back of your head.

"Ba-ku-go ... ple--- ... ya, please. You have ... to ... mmmm … oh my god." You whined as he looked at your contorting face.

"I know, baby. I know. I got you. I'll give you what you want, sweetheart. You're going to cum for me, ok?" He kissed your neck and started to speed up again, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper.

"Yes! Oh my god, don’t … don’t … hoh fuck!" You were on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall off at any moment.

He grabbed your tits, squeezing them and rolling your nipples between his fingers. "Fuck! You're so fucking sexy. I wanna taste those tits, baby." He bent down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it as he kept fucking you.

Your hands were in his hair again, pulling and tugging as he fucked you harder and harder. Your body started to shake and your breath caught in your throat.

"I'm going to … cum, Bakugo! Fuck! Pleasepleaseplease!" You screamed as you came hard around his cock. "Oh my god! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Bakugo!"

You rode out the twitching and shaking of your body as he continued to fuck you. Dragging out more moans from you than anyone had ever bothered to do before.

His slow pace came to an even more painful stop. He kissed your neck until you were writhing below him. Begging him to do something.

Anything.

Bakugo slid back until just his tip was inside of you. He looked down at where he disappeared into your body and pulled out the rest of the way. His eyes darted back up to yours and he watched you all the way until his lips were encircling your clit.

"Oh my god!" You cried out as he sucked and licked your clit, his tongue pushing in and out of your pussy. "Fuck! Bakugo!" You grabbed his hair and pulled it, the pain making him moan against you. He licked and sucked on you so sloppily that the room was filled with the sounds of wet lapping. It was loud and erotic and almost too much. But it was just enough. You were so close to cumming again that it hurt. Your body was tight. The wire bound within you was ready to snap if he hit you just right once more.

"Cum on my tongue, y/n. Cum for me, baby. Fuck, you taste so good." He said as he pushed two fingers into your pussy, pumping them in and out of you.

Your back arched and your toes curled as you came again. Your legs shaking and your hands gripping the sheets. Your hips bucked up against his face as he sucked and licked you through your orgasm.

Bakugo sat back on his knees, his cock still hard and glistening with your juices. He slowly pumped his cock as he looked down at you. "You're so fucking filthy. I could watch you cum for me all day long." He grabbed your legs and pulled you down to him so that your ass was right at the edge of the bed.

He pushed his cock into you again, this time with a sense of urgency and a need to cum himself. He fucked you hard and deep, his hips slamming into yours with every thrust. He was so close to cumming that you could see it in his face.

"Your - mngh - your face looks stupid when you're about to cum. Y'know that?" You tried to laugh but all you could do was moan at how good his cock filled you. How good it felt as it dragged inside of you.

He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he fucked you harder. "Oh god, y/n. You feel so fucking good. I'm going to cum in you, ok?" He moaned as he fucked you.

"Yes! Fucking cum in me ... hmm ..." You moaned as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside of you. "Fill me up, Bakugo. Fuck!" You screamed as you came again, your body shaking and your pussy tightening around him.

Bakugo pumped his hips a few more times before he came inside of you, his cum filling you up and spilling out onto the bed. "Oh, fuck! Y/n! Fuck!" He moaned as he kept fucking you through his orgasm.

He eventually stopped, his cock still inside of you as he collapsed on top of you, his face buried in your neck. "Oh my god, y/n. That was ... that was so fucking good." He kissed your neck and chest before he rolled over and lay next to you on the bed.

"And to think, what I said about men who dance was total bullshit."

"I knew it! I knew you were lying about that." Bakugo laughed. "You're a little shit, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know. But I got you to dance with me, though." You smiled.

"You did." He smiled back. "But you're the one in bed with me."

You looked over at him and he was flipping you off with both hands.

"Fuck you." He laughed.

Taglist ::: @millennialmagicalgirl @callm3senpaii @darkstarlight82 (just in case it decides to work, idk! If not I'll send it to you, too.)

#mha smut #bakugo smut #katsuki smut #katsuki mha #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo smut #bakugo x reader #bakugo x f reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki x f reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you #aged up characters

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acourtofthought · 10 months

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It is one of my favorite headcannons that Elucien will be able to travel together through the skies, one character who has enjoyed traveling his whole life and another who dreams of it. That she won't need him to take her from place to place through winnowing but can instead experience the freedom of flying alongside him whether it be for business or pleasure.

Mercifully, Elain quietly approached me at breakfast / Both my mate and Mor were still sleeping, and I’d been content to let them continue doing so. They’d earned that rest. We all had. But Elain, it seemed, was as sleepless as me.

“How long have you been working on this?” A one-shouldered shrug. “Since dawn.” She added, “Nuala and Cerridwen were up hours earlier.”

The clock on the mantel chimed eight. As if it had summoned her, Elain slid into the room.

Elain had walked in halfway through. She’d been toiling in the estate gardens since dawn.

Elain asked, “And once you were in this body, you couldn’t change?”

Mercifully, Elain quietly approached me at breakfast

Elain was again at my side. I hadn’t heard her steps.

Elain perched silently on the couch nearby.

Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, “Using me.”

“You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach.

She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth

Elain moved fast enough that I could barely keep up

“I can hear your heartbeat—if I listen carefully. I can hear her heartbeat, too.”

“I can hear the sea. Even at night. Even in my dreams. The crashing sea—and the screams of a bird made of fire.” It was an effort not to glance to Nesta. Even the town house was too far to hear anything from the nearby coast.

“I can hear your heart beating through the stone.”

“I can hear her—crying.”

Lucien asked, “How would she even get here and vanish that quickly? Crossing the sea takes weeks.

Elain had always wanted to visit the continent to study the tulips and other famed flowers, but her imagination had stretched no further. Feyre had talked once about the glorious art in the continent’s museums and private estates. But that was all the western edge of it. Beyond that, the continent was vast. And to the south, another continent sprawled. Would she have gone?

Lucien stared out the window—as if he could see the lake across a sea and a continent. As if he were setting his target.

#elucien #pro elucien #elucienweek2023 #elain x lucien #lucien and elain #elain and lucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #acotar theory #Prompt: travel

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olivers-cocoapuffs · 11 months

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Melancholic & Starchaser (thank you @thisismetryingstan)

James turns the page of the book he’s reading, anxious about the next chain of events. The rain outside isn’t as harsh anymore. He glances at the fire, checking to see how much wood is left.

He’s about to turn the page again when a melancholic feeling washes over him. James feels a chill shoot straight through his bones, burying itself there. His brain automatically filters out the noise and he feels faint.

The clock chimes, announcing the new hour and James glances over it. His gaze snags on the jewellery dish on the mantel. Fear washes down his spine as he carefully marks his book and stands up, making his way over.

The dish is empty of the locket.

Regulus is gone.

#it took me a sec to get a story of some sort #but i really enjoyed this one!!#james potter #regulus black #starchaser #the marauders #the slytherin skittles #marauders era

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merymoonbeam · 1 year

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Sitting close to the window

Elain

The clock on the mantel chimed eight. As if it had summoned her, Elain slid into the room. Mor was instantly on her feet, offering—insisting on wine. Typical. Elain politely refused, taking up a spot in one of the wooden chairs set in the bay of windows. Also typical.(acofas)

Azriel

Cassian gazed across the space between their two armchairs. They’d sat in them, before this fire, so many times that it was an unspoken rule that Azriel’s was the one on the left, closer to the window, and Cassian’s the one to the right, closer to the door. (Acosf)

#elriel #parallels

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ensnapemysenses · 2 years

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A Day in the Life of Severus Snape: A Rather Mundane Tale

After Hours

Summary: Severus Snape is quite the introverted and odd professor. What does he do after hours during the weekends at Hogwarts?

Warnings: None

A/N: This is the second part of my series of fics that will give us a look into the everyday life of Severus Snape! The first part, as well as a list of all the other parts I have planned so far, can be found here!

Masterlist

Friday

Severus’s teaching day draws to a close at 4:00 pm when his last class of the day is dismissed by the bell. He quickly ushers any lingering students out of his classroom before locking the door behind him for a few moments of quiet to decompress. He flicks his wand lazily to tidy up any residual mess from the day's lessons and places the student’s homework assignments into his desk drawer; he will not be looking at them again for a few days. No, he’s going to save those for Monday night’s round of insomnia. Today is Friday and since he is totally off the clock on the weekends, he is going to spend tonight and tomorrow relaxing. Sundays are of course reserved for his anxiety attacks due to the upcoming week, but he will do his best to worry about that when the day comes.

First things first, he goes down to the Hogwarts library where he will peruse the shelves in the teacher’s section and return the book he finished the night before. Selecting some books on the dark arts, he returns to his office. There, he lights the fireplace, removes his cloak and places it on a hook on the wall, and lies down on the dark green velvet couch to rest and read. Holding the book open above his head as he reads it, he stays in that position until he gets uncomfortable and then he decides to retreat to his hidden reading nook.

No one knows of this hidden area of his office, except maybe Dumbledore as he seems to be aware of a lot of things he shouldn’t know. Severus himself had stumbled upon its existence by mere chance one evening near the start of his career as the potions professor. Since its discovery, he has made the small space into his own and it is now his favorite place to hide when the world becomes too much.

Approaching the fireplace, he runs his fingers along the top of the mantel until they come across a small knot in the wood. He presses it twice and then he finds the snake carving on the front of the mantel and turns it once to the right and twice to the left. A quiet clicking noise, alerts him to stand back as the fireplace swings open and he enters inside, closing it shut behind him.

A small sigh of relief leaves him as he lights the torches on the wall to illuminate the small space. It’s only about the size of two broom cupboards but the space is very usable. He’s fitted the area with several small bookshelves, a nice and comfy chair with a footrest, a small table with a pitcher and a cup on it, and a small clock on the wall. On the bookshelves, he keeps his favorite guilty pleasure books, books that you wouldn’t think someone like Severus Snape would read such as muggle fiction books and the occasional more adult-themed novels.

Selecting one of his comfort books, he relaxes into his chair with his feet propped up and he fills up the pitcher with water using the augamenti spell. He soon loses track of the time but is brought back to reality when the clock chimes to alert him that it is 7:30 pm, time for dinner. He closes his book and places it back on the shelf, pushes the button that opens the secret panel, puts out the torches, and exits back into his office, being sure to securely close his secret room to keep it safe from prying eyes.

As usual on the weekends, he retires to his room for dinner alone. He’s made arrangements with the house elves to have his food delivered there instead of having to trek all the way to the Great Hall. Plus, he doesn’t have any patience left in him after five days of dealing with insolent dunderheads and coworker drama, it’s just better that he spend the weekend totally isolated in order to recover.

His dinner is waiting for him on his small kitchen table as soon as he enters his chambers. Its smell permeates the room, making him slightly nauseous since he skipped lunch and didn’t eat much breakfast. Fixing himself a glass of fire whiskey, he sits down to eat his meal. He doesn’t eat much of it, just enough, that when combined with the alcohol, his headache subsides.

After dinner, he throws his cloak back on and goes about his rounds of patrolling the castle and checking in with his Slytherin students one last time before curfew begins. He enjoys a nice walk in the dark empty halls as well as the delight and slight adrenaline rush he gets when he catches students out of bed after hours. He is always sure to check in on his students any chance he can and right before bedtime is a great opportunity to do so. It allows him to get a head count and make sure all his students are accounted for so he isn’t embarrassed by them wandering the halls in the dead of the night.

Though unintentional, he always grows very fond of the students in his house and he hopes he can be a somewhat acceptable mentor for them to look up to. He knows from experience that many of them have fewer opportunities than other houses to find the good in themselves and live up to their full potential. Young minds can be swayed and all too often Slytherin students are victims of that, learning to continue in the ways of their parents from a young age, and those beliefs are further cemented by their peers who have also fallen into the same trap.

After completing his rounds in the dormitory and around the castle, he’s back in his chambers by 11:30 pm where he then proceeds to shower and change into his sleeping clothing. He proceeds to eat a small midnight snack of some orange and apple slices and he downs two more glasses of firewhiskey to try and ease his thoughts for sleep. He finally falls asleep by 12:30 am.

Saturday

By 3:30 am, Severus is awake again and he heads back to the Slytherin dormitory common room for a few moments to just check-in. Upon finding no students wandering around, he heads back to his room and falls back asleep.

He groggily awakes again on Saturday morning at 10:00 am and he lays in bed until 10:30 with his eyes closed. He doesn’t sleep much during the week, not that it’s his choice, but on occasion, he ends up sleeping really late on Saturdays, and it seems this Saturday all the sleepless nights have caught up to him. He hates sleeping this long but he knows he should listen to his body more and take better care of himself, though he never does.

Today, he will accomplish the daunting set of chores on his list. Even with magic, he still finds doing them very difficult at times, as if he thinks he doesn’t deserve to occupy a nice and clean space. He could have the house elves clean up his room, but he doesn’t. He has specifically requested they not clean his room since most of the time there is a reason for what appears to be disorder.

Other people would look at the array of papers and books scattered about and call him mad, but he sees something totally different: determination, perseverance, and oddly enough, a sense of comfort. Though all his books, research, and notes look disorganized, they are actually organized in a way that makes perfect sense to him. However, today he takes the time to neatly stack and arrange the papers and books in a way more pleasant to the eye even though he knows they will just get thrown about again soon. While he is meticulously organizing his work, his other chores are being done by magic.

By lunchtime, he’s all done and he decides to take a shower and change his clothing. When he enters back into his kitchen, his lunch is waiting on him and he quickly eats it before deciding to exit his chambers to go on a walk down to the lake and the outskirts of the forbidden forest where he can scavenge for potion ingredients. While the school gives him an allowance to purchase supplies, he would rather gather what he can before buying whatever else he cannot find and the grounds happen to have plenty of fresh and in-season ingredients for harvest. Plus, he’s made a deal with the centaurs that allow him to roam the forbidden forest unharmed as long as he only takes what he needs and is not greedy; even the centaurs understand the importance of educating the young with only the best.

It’s evening and the sun is beginning to set as he makes his way back to the castle, a bag full of ingredients slung over his shoulder. He heads straight down to his potions storeroom so he can begin the preservation process. He works through supper and only ceases when the clock chime lets him know that it is 11:00 pm, time that he checks in on his students once again. After his check in the dormitory, he returns to his chambers, showers off the mud and muck from his trek and the lake and the forbidden forest, and he collapses into bed by 12:00 am after a small snack.

Sunday

Today he wakes at an acceptable hour, 6:00 am. He immediately showers and gets dressed before parading down to the Slytherin dorm again. He will never understand why he carries so much anxiety for his student's safety and well-being or why he seems to be the only head of house that actually checks in on their students regularly.

He does a quick sweep of the dorms and then he returns to his room once again to eat breakfast. After eating his anxiety paralyzes him for most of the day. He doesn’t get much done and he hates feeling like he’s wasted a day sitting around, but there’s nothing he can do but wait for the panic attacks to pass.

They finally end around 7:00 pm when his hunger gets the best of him and he decides to stroll down to the Great Hall to face his fears and eat a meal in the presence of others again. That way he slowly reintroduces himself back into society in preparation for his classes tomorrow morning.

He eats in silence, barely touching his food, and excuses himself early, but he’s done it. He’s made it through another weekend and now it’s time for him to push himself through another work week. No matter how much he would rather disappear from the face of the planet, he’s got a job to do and he is going to see it through. He will continue to rot away at the expense of everyone around him in order to save them and that’s the way he would rather have it. It is better that he suffer and give his life, to atone for his mistakes and keep others from going down the same path as him.

As he lies in bed dreading getting back to teaching tomorrow, he can’t help but let his mind wander to where he would be right now if he hadn’t been such a stupid child who was easily swayed by his desire for companionship and the feeling of being wanted and included. Perhaps he would be a renowned potion master with his own shop, or perhaps he would be an author; both of those things sound nice. And so, he finally drifts off to sleep with a few good thoughts on his mind, knowing that he will awake again soon to a life that he despises.

#severus snape #severus snape fic #snape fic #professor snape #professor snape fic #pro snape #snapedom #snape fandom #snape fanfiction #severus snape fanfiction #snape #ensnapemysenses

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