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sprout-fics · 1 year

Note

request for ghost 👀 ghost x medic!reader that is basically the opposite of him. super gentle and docile, they’re the sunshine of the team (affectionately named by Soap). ghost is infatuated but refuses to believe someone as good hearted as them could ever be interested in him. like he feels like he’s not good enough for reader but reader is scared of rejection so they also don’t say anything. basically two idiots in love pining for each other

Sunshine (Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN! Reader)

Rating: M

Word Count: 2.5 k

Warnings: Explicit mention of murder, blood, and injuries, I have not played any of the games so if Ghost is OOC then shoot me I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Summary:

“Sunshine” They called you. It was a bit of a misnomer, all things considered. While your sweet, gentle personality was quietly adored off the field, your laser focus and scorching gaze locked that part of you away on mission. Soap had teased you once in the early days as you stitched his arm in a safehouse, saying you had the sweetest, gentlest touch on a medic he’d ever felt.

“Feels like fuckin’ sunshine, corporal.” He slurred, heavy off painkillers as you tended to the bullet in his shoulder. “Best hands I’ve ever had on me.”

You had given him a sharp pinch for the innuendo, but the nickname had stuck anyways.

It had taken some time to earn the trust of the group. They had been burned one too many times to take in a new member without a healthy amount of suspicion. It was only after you had managed to patch them up half a dozen times each that they grew accustomed to your steady, reaffirming presence.

Most of them, at least.

Ghost was a quiet one, living up to his name as he lingered in the shadows, haunting like a specter at the corner of every scene. When he spoke, it was only to issue orders, to patch into the comms and relay intel. Like a wraith, his broad form occupied the corner of your mind, his voice a rough hard scrape like soot against your fingertips. His eyes watched you from afar, deadly, precise, ever true to his aim.

You never see his face.

“Don’t worry, he’s just got a bad chin.” Soap whispers conspiratorially to you as you both lay low over a rooftop that looks over your target. “Like one of those goddamn Hapsburg royals.”

“I doubt that.” You snort, eyes never leaving your scope.

Still, you do wonder sometimes. You can’t help it. There’s something inside you that gravitates towards him like being pulled in by a black hole. The very presence of him draws your eyes to his, dark, unflinching, cold. Sometimes you feel like he can see straight through you, as transparent as a phantom.

“Sunshine, on me.” He barks, and damn if you two don’t make quite the duo- bright sunlight and a dead man walking.

The only times you get glimpses of him are when he’s injured, which is rare. You pull up his sleeve to reveal his forearm, thick, muscular, veiny. For a moment you want to trace your fingers over it, nails scraping against the dark ink in contrast to his skin- a skull.

Ghost’s eyes never leave you as you work, and you don’t notice the way his gaze lingers over your lips, your lashes.

You talk to him as you clean the cut- a sharp slice of a knife from a terrorist who got too close. He had been a step to your left, and you had raised your gun but Ghost had gotten him first. You didn’t even realize the hulking soldier was in your shadow until his knife was buried into the man’s neck and a curse tore from his throat at the blade lodged in his own arm.

The blood drips red across your gloved fingers as you try to distract him from the pain, and yourself from the strange flutter that echoes low in your stomach. Inside, you try to quell whatever this is- this want, this need inside you for him to be even closer, to hear his voice whisper across your skin.

Your nimble fingers work over the wound, neatly gathering the edges. It’ll leave a scar, and you wonder for a moment just how many he has, exactly. What are the stories that tie them to his flesh? The history woven into the sinew of his muscles?

“I’m sorry.” You offer, and your voice is quiet somehow, unable to fill the scant space between you. Sorry that you had been too slow, sorry he had gotten hurt as a result, sorry for having feelings despite yourself.

“…It’s fine.” The Lieutenant offers after several long heartbeats. “I’m fine.”

It’s not fine, not really, but you accept his words regardless.

“Thank you.” Ghost manages after you’re done, and his voice is uncharacteristically subdued. His eyes avert from you, as if he doesn’t want to meet your gaze. That shiver inside you swoops low with uncertainty at his hesitation, but before you can part your lips to speak he’s gone as if he was never there at all.

---

It’s only after a close call that is far too close that things change.

The sniper catches you by surprise, having managed to circle around your group and catch you from behind. The bullet goes straight through your shoulder, and if you hadn’t turned to listen to Price just a millisecond prior you know it would have been through your skull. The impact topples you forward onto the rubbled concrete below you, and the world is spinning, ringing as Price is shouting orders seconds before the rapid pop of gunfire erupts around you.

“Sunshine!!”

You try to stand, to reach for your weapon but it feels like your lungs are caught between a hydraulic press. There’s blood splattered across the ground under your hands and it blurs as your vision tries to right itself from the pain. Someone is calling your name but it sounds like it's coming through water, garbled and distant.

The world around you shifts abruptly, tilting on its axis as a pair of thick cut arms lifts you like you’re no heavier than a sack of flour. Hands reach across you, removing the strap of your rifle from your form and you catch a glimpse of the blood that’s soaked through it, dark and glistening.

“Got ‘em.” A voice gravels next to your ear, and it takes you more than one second to realize its Ghost who’s got you slung over his bulking shoulders, his gear digging into your ribcage as you wheeze and try to ground yourself against the nauseating wave of pain that bubbles up your throat, thick and red.

“Go!” Price barks, and you dimly are aware of the fact that he sounds oddly afraid. “We’ll cover you.”

The world is jostling, turning, shifting, and the sudden dizziness of it all crashes over you as your vision turns black.

---

The next hour comes in flashes of black and red, and you learn later that the bullet narrowly missed an artery- a fatal blow. Your entire left side is soaked in blood by the time you wake, but you’re alive, drowsy, laying down on a cleared off table at the safe house with the dusty kitchen light shining brightly down on you.

You hiss at the brightness and try to move to press a hand to the wound, only for an iron-rod grip to settle your wrist back onto the flat surface under you.

“Don’t.”

You blink for a few moments, turning your head to meet the white skull mask next to you. The lieutenant looks comically too large for the chair he’s sitting in, and with his size his gaze is still above you, gazing down with that unblinking stare

“You lost a lot of blood.” Ghost relays calmly, his grip still on your wrist. It’s nice, the warmth of his hand spilling through his glove onto your clammy skin. “Thought we lost you.”

There’s a tenderness in his voice that surprises you, and you can’t tell if it’s the painkillers helping you imagine it. The fact that he’s sitting here, with you, instead of with the voices that filter in from the other room, should tell you something. Your senses are too cloudy, heavy and weighed down by whatever they gave you for the pain.

“ ‘M not dead.” You manage, voice a hard scrape in your throat. “It’ll take more than that to make me a ghost.”

Maybe it’s the painkiller after all, but you swear you hear him chuckle.

---

You’re haunted after that.

Ghost’s figure is too large for your own shadow, but he stays there nonetheless, dark and omnipresent like a curse. In some ways it is. The constant presence of him forces you to constantly push down that flutter in your stomach, to make sure your eyes don’t linger on his for too long, to not say his name like the soft sigh that it is in your heart. You catch his eyes and feel a rush of warmth creep up your neck under your gear, feel the phantom of his touch skim across your wrist.

You’ve fallen for him.

Fuck.

That itself is not a problem- well, it is, but not as bad as the issue it presents. You can’t say anything. He’s your superior, you’re part of his team, and there are clear boundaries that can’t be crossed in wartime.

More than that though, is the fact that he probably doesn’t feel the same. Ghost has never mentioned anything about romance, even to Soap, who he seems closest with. When you had gently queried the sergeant for intel on the topic he had merely looked at you as if you expected him to know the secret of the afterlife itself. You count your blessings that Soap is dense when it comes to that sort of topic, otherwise he’d be pestering you for weeks about your little secret.

So, you try to contain it, this infatuation of yours, spoon feeding yourself lies about how it’ll pass, how it’s just a phase, that you two were never meant to be. It’s difficult to do just that when he’s always there, crowding into your space like your own personal attack dog, wordlessly present at all times. His eyes trace you as you pass, and you feel the chill of them carve into your bones and leave you trembling and weak.

It's fine, I’m fine. You tell yourself, more than once a day at this point, forcing down the rush of warmth when your eyes meet, when you hear his voice speak your name, when you feel him right fucking behind you.

On top of it all, Ghost starts putting you in the backseat, starts holding you from rooms until they’ve been cleared, and starts treating you like a goddamn rookie. The part of you that is hopeless over him thinks at first he’s being overprotective, watching your six and making sure there will never be a repeat of the incident that nearly cost you your life. You know better than that though, know that Ghost likely doesn’t have feelings for you, that he’s putting you on the back burner deliberately to teach you a lesson over not paying attention- and that pisses you right off.

It takes a while but you manage to corner him back at base after a successful mission where you all but sat on your ass the entire time while he and Price took the lead. You find him lurking in a back hallway, and you can’t contain your uncharacteristic anger as you stride up to him, plant your hands on either side of him on the wall and gaze furiously up at his masked face.

“What.” You grit. “-the fuck was that?!”

Ghost, for what he’s worth, actually looks surprised. The expression is foreign to you, his eyes usually cold and dead, calculating and precise. He stiffens, and even though you barely reach his collarbone with just how gigantic he is, manages to look like he’s actually a bit apprehensive of your stance towards him. In any other situation it would be borderline comical, with how you’re trying to physically intimidate a man much, much larger than yourself, with your arms barely able to box him in on either side.

“Watch your tone corporal.” He replies at last, and there’s a warning in his voice you don’t heed.

“Not until you tell me exactly why you’ve decided to treat me like I don’t know which end of the gun to shoot with.” You snap back, and the look your words earn you is chill inducing. Even so you don’t back down. “You have me being baby-sat during these missions like you can’t trust me.”

“I do trust you.”

The words spill out before he can catch them, and the confession has you both startled and blinking at each other wide-eyed. You feel shock spill across your chest, electric and dazzling for all of a moment. You aren’t surprised at the fact that Ghost trusts you, it’s the fact that he went so far as to say it out loud, voicing a rare instance of his inner thoughts to you in your confusion.

“Then why?” You ask, and you hate the way your voice sounds almost desperate, pleading for an answer.

Ghost stiffens, and you feel his muscles ripple as they brush against you.

“…I couldn’t have you injured again.” He speaks at last, and you know he’s trying to school his voice into a cold indifference, but you can hear the little note of shame there, of guilt.

“I’m going to get injured no matter what. That’s the job.” You point out, unable to contain the bite from your words.

“No.” Ghost manages, and his voice is tight, choked. “Not like that.”

You blink up at him, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability in his voice, the way he seems to almost be pleading with you.

Yet your entire world screeches to a halt at his next words.

“Because it’s you.”

Your heart beats against your chest like a trapped bird, and suddenly you’re stumbling back from him, back braced against the opposite wall of the hallway as you try to reconcile his words with reality.

Because it’s you.

“Why…why didn’t you say anything?” You croak, hands coming up to your face to massage your temples. “All this time, you…you didn’t say anything.”

Ghost shifts where he stands, and you know him well enough at this point that he’s fighting the urge to walk away, to blend into the shadow and pretend like this conversation never happened.

“You don’t feel the same.” He says bluntly, voice detached and empty as he braces for what he thinks is your inevitable rejection. “And even if you did, I…don’t deserve someone like you.”

Your eyes shoot up to meet his, and you shiver at what you find there. Hurt, longing, desire dark and deep and barely tamed.

“You-“ Ghost manages, and you can feel the discomfort radiating off of him, this brute man built like a tank but taken down by a few tender words. “You’re too good, sunshine.”

Slowly, the pieces fit together, like skin mended together by the seam of a stitch.

He thinks he doesn’t deserve you, bright and radiant as you are. You’re sunshine and he’s Ghost, he’s shadows and darkness and blood and the whisper of death with every bullet. He’s afraid that if he even touches you he’ll dye you dark at the seams, stifle that brightness within you.

He doesn’t know that light illuminates the darkness.

“Ghost.” You manage at last, and there’s a laugh on your lips, sweet and bitter all at once. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

You yank him down and kiss him through his mask, and something radiant glows inside you both.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ask box #requests #oneshots

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ventismacchiato · 10 months

Text

40 behind the lens — paper rings !

scaramouche x g!n reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ time skip of three years ࿐ྂ

˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗

✰ you and kuni graduate at the top of your respected classes and have been dating for almost five years now, known properly as the campus it couple

✰ neither of you moved in together until last year when everyone else started moving out of the shared content houses

✰ first xiaoae move out together, then childe, then heikazu, albenari, then ayaka going back home and venti living on his own

✰ living in the houses on your own was essentially a waste of money and space so jean ended your leases and you guys finally moved in together

✰ and after graduation, with jean’s help, you’re able to slide into the industry pretty easily with your large fanbases

✰ you start off as side characters that grow in popularity since your fans watch the shows and movies you star in just for you both

✰ i like to think kuni double majored in child psych along with film in case acting didn’t work out in his favor so he’s pretty and smart

✰ but since this is fiction it did work out for him cus dreams come true #livelaughlove

✰ id like to think star/you would also act but probably dials it down to direct full time instead

✰ you preferred to direct compared to acting so eventually you started to fund your own projects with kuni on your cast which helped you grow

✰ you try not to cast kuni in every one of your movies because then it’ll look like favoritism but he prefers to star in ones you direct

✰ you also get your friends to be extras a lot, most of the time it’s childe who begs you to let him be in the back for movies

✰ you guys probably don’t get engaged for a while despite living together, blaming it on scara’s commitment issues and the fact that your careers are your main focus

✰ alongside luna, your previous black cat, you probably adopt another white one alongside scara

✰ as for actor!scara headcanons imagine scara on hot ones, that one show on youtube, and he has a straight face the entire time as he eats the hottest wings and answers questions about you

✰i think he’d have a lot of fun on shows like that, example would be eat it or spill it by jimmy fallon, he would annihilate them

✰ he probably does all his own stunts, always giving you a heart attack as you see him falling from heights on harnesses, sometimes he convinces the staff to fool you into thinking he actually got hurt due to a broken rope as he plummets to the ground

✰ he does it so much that there’s enough content for ‘scara pretending to die in front of yn for ten minutes straight’ compilations

✰ you guys probably stream when you can but not as much with your jobs, i think star doing behind the scenes vlogs of you and scara together would be so cute though

˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗

✰ was a communications major so he’s the PR manager for scara and you after graduating

✰ yes i know technically jean could do this but she has enough on her plate! i’m just thoughtful like that #feminist

✰ constantly trying to prevent you guys from getting into scandals, which is hard when scara cannot keep his opinions to himself

✰ aether probably has a heart attack everytime scara goes off to do interviews since scara always ignores the pre written answers and goes on tangents, which his fans love but twitter not so much

✰ xiao as an animator wud be so sexy guys. like walk with me here imagine an operation true love anime after the drama and webtoon are a hit so he gets to animate for the anime and storyboards with albedo

✰ i’m tryna intertwine all of them even after they graduate can you tell

✰ as for him and aether they probably tie the knot a little while after graduating, small wedding with just close friends and family

✰ xiao would edit one of those pretty wedding videos that youtubers do

✰ but they don’t film the entire wedding for their channels cus they gotta gatekeep

✰ id say xiao probably still streams but he mainly just draws with music in the background or works on his stardew town with aether

✰ xiao probably strains his wrist a lot from all the work he does so at promotion events he’s always wearing a brace on his hand

˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗

✰ okay in this au let’s all pretend he’s the creator of operation true love cus rmbr he’s a writing major and a huge romantic

✰ like how sexy is that, obviously it does well cus all his fans all read it and so it gets turned into a drama

✰ directed by you of course starring kuni as eunhyuk

✰ he’s still head over heels and throwing up in love with heizou, they probably adopt a cat together when they move in together

✰ i imagine if kazuha ever wrote a murder mystery novel he’d have heizou read it to decipher if the culprit was too easy to figure out

✰ nothing really exciting about heizou’s major in this au, he probably just becomes a detective and streams on the side, known as kazuha’s partner in the entertainment industry and attends all the events when he can

˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗

✰ obviously goes into the art industry, works on a lot of graphic novels and novel covers and sometimes album covers

✰ when kazuha’s work gets turned into mangas or graphic novels he always does the art for it

✰ he probably paints nari’s favorite flowers for him and they adorn their house’s walls

✰ i’d say he doesn’t stream as much anymore but if he does it’s probably just him doing commissions with music in the background

✰ nari’s major is also not exciting in this au, probably becomes a forest ranger or a college professor

✰ albedo builds him a greenhouse in the back of their house for him

✰ the type to bring hurt animals home and fosters them back to health

˗ˏˋ headcanons ´ˎ˗

childe

✰ stealing from my pookie mrbeast for inspo

✰ he probably does stuff like has a whole business for his videos and side hustles like merch and a food company

✰ like maybe he and diluc collab to make an energy drink or something

✰i mentioned he fancies diluc like once in a previous chapter so that’s why he’s with diluc who streams a little

✰ they probably met properly at another twitch con or creator event

✰ very wow factor oriented like he does more than just stream games, he prefers to work on big challenge videos and loves giving away money

✰ like he would host those extreme hide-and-seek challenges with all his youtuber/streamer friends in weird locations and get them to do weird dares with him

✰ i think heizou would win those types of videos most of the time, whereas scara barely tries and still seems to almost win

✰ diluc probably does one stream a month because it’s not his entire focus, probably also a business major and just appears in childe’s videos once in a while

✰ how cute would it be if childe was always at his 110% in videos and extra hyper to make them more entertaining but when diluc joins him he’s more calm and cute

venti

✰ his streaming fanbase gives him a jumpstart in his music career yk how it is

✰ does a bunch of osts for shows and movies. still streams but also is a popular musician

✰ not an idol 😍🤞 has to be a little different than jptp but does start out by opening for tours and makes it on billboard

✰ i do think he’d eventually do a world tour though on his own and stray away from streaming to focus on his music, would probably just upload vlogs if anything

✰ does the operation true love ost so everyone is working tgt and he’s single in this au cus #singlerep

ayaka

✰ honestly i don’t care what happens to ayaka she’s just there ig

✰ keep doing what ur doing queen! i’ll support you from all the way over here!

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev | next

yes i’m using yeonjun as scaras face 🤞

also sorry if this isn’t as in depth as the jptp one i’m just tryna wrap this fic up ☠️

author’s notes — just like jptp i just wanted to do a bunch of headcanons :] this is how i envision their future and if u don’t agree talk to the wall cus idc 😊

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

taglist is closed — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @ins4nebish @stxrgxzxr @lilacponds @uma-umie @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @satowaluverr @lexlapis @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos @cartierfiles [1/3]

#scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader smau #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #head in hands free me #behind the lens smau

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 9 months

Text

Playing Pretend (Part 7)

Roy finally says his feelings out loud.

Roy Kent x Reader

1.7k words

Warnings: Language, mentions of drunkenness, more pining Roy, threats of violence between romantic rivals, some angst

Series Masterlist

Roy wasn’t in bed when you woke up the next morning. You sat up slowly, still feeling a bit groggy, and listened carefully for any sounds from the bathroom. Nope, he wasn’t there either. Wondering where he’d gotten to, you grabbed your phone. Just as you were typing a text to ask where he’d gone, the door opened, and Roy entered, holding a mug in his hands.

“You’re up,” he greeted, crossing the room. He sat on the bed and handed you the mug. “Went and grabbed you some coffee. They’ve got breakfast all set up in the library. But I figured you’d need this before you even fucking think about getting out of bed.”

Taking a sip of the coffee- prepared exactly the way you liked it- you nodded. “Thanks, Roy.” You paused, concentrating your gaze on the mug in your hands. “I wasn’t too embarrassing last night, was I?” you whispered in a tiny voice.

Roy’s heart sank a little. You didn’t remember a damn thing. “No, not at all.” He shoved you playfully. “You just gave a strip tease in front of the whole drawing room is all.”

A relieved smile broke out across your face. “Oh, is that all?” you taunted back.

The expression on Roy’s face was hard to read for a flash of a second before that teasing smirk appeared again. “You really think I’d ever let you embarrass yourself?”

“Never,” you chuckled, taking another sip of coffee.

The two of you sat in an almost comfortable silence as you drank your coffee, with Roy pretending that his chest wasn’t tightening with every glance the two of you shared. Some stupid part of him had hoped you’d remember the night before, that you’d nervously giggle and ask if the two of you could pick up where you’d left off and he could finally admit how badly he wanted to.

But you didn’t. Instead, you silently dwelled on this vague memory you had of Roy’s lips heatedly crashing into yours, wondering when in the night you’d kissed him so intensely. You figured it must have been in the drawing room, in front of everyone. A bit insufferable, but not completely humiliating, not for two people supposedly in love.

So why did you feel like you wanted to fall into a black hole every time your eyes met Roy’s?

“Right. Guess I’ll go annoy your father or Paul then,” Roy joked, offering you a small smile as the two of you parted ways in the hallway, your sweats contrasting with his wedding-ready outfit: black suit and tie.

Once you were properly caffeinated, you quickly showered and threw on some sweats, explaining to Roy that you’d be heading to one of the larger rooms to get ready with your sisters and the other bridesmaids.

You did your very best not to let your eyes be too obvious as they trailed up and down his handsome figure, but the blush that appeared on his cheeks told you that you’d failed. So, you offered what you hoped was a casual smile and gently touched his arm before carrying your dress and things to the room you would be getting ready in.

After watching your receding figure for much longer than necessary, Roy shook his head and made his way downstairs. He thought he knew what he was getting into by saying yes to this weekend. He’d figured on getting his heart a little twisted with all the affection you’d be sharing, but he wasn’t counting on the events of the night before, of being so fucking close to having everything he’d ever wanted. And he definitely wasn’t counting on you forgetting all about it the morning after. But that was just his fucking luck, wasn’t it?

“Morning, Roy-o!” Paul approached with a smile, Jim next to him. Both men were in jeans; Roy figured they’d be getting ready closer to the ceremony. “Hey, we’ve got a couple last minute things to set up outside, care to help?”

Every instinct Roy had told him to say fuck no. Fuck Jim, and fuck his wedding, and fuck your sister for putting you through all this drama. But damn, he liked Paul. He was a nice guy, the kind of brother-in-law any fella would want. So, Roy found himself mumbling, “Sure, I guess” and following the men out to the garden.

Paul explained that some chairs still needed to be set up. “Huh, looks like someone brought last night’s party out here,” he joked, pointing at a broken bottle on the ground. The sight made Roy’s heart skip a beat, remembering how fucking close the two of you had been before it slipped out of your sloshed hands. “I’ll go grab a broom,” Paul announced, clapping Roy on the shoulder. “Don’t kill anyone,” he hissed with a wink before trotting back towards the house.

Roy grunted and set to work putting up the last of the chairs, wondering why the fuck these rich pricks hadn’t hired people for this; they were the type to play fucking polo and have a house like this and act all Downton Abbey, but they were fine with setting up their own chairs? Whatever.

“Big day,” Roy grumbled, making his first-ever attempt to be nice to Jim, figuring that could be his version of a wedding present. If nothing else, he could use the good karma. “Bet you’re excited.”

Jim narrowed his eyes at Roy. “Don’t bother playing nice, now that you’ve got the girl,” he spat as he set up a chair.

Roy rolled his eyes. “Christ, you’re still pissy about that? You’re about to marry her fucking sister, man. Besides, we never fucking had anything going on when you were dating. We’d known each other our whole lives. She’s best friends with my sister. We were friends. If you hadn’t fucking dumped her, we’d still be just friends. Not my fault you decided to end things like a fucking idiot.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” Jim huffed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I was always going to be second choice to Roy fucking Kent.”

“Second choice?” Roy sputtered, feeling his face begin to burn with anger. “She chose you, you wanker. For three fucking years she chose you. And I got a fucking front row seat to it.”

Jim set aside the chair he was holding to step close to Roy, much too close considering Roy’s growing frustration. “You really think she’d have picked me if she knew you were an option? Roy fucking Kent? She only picked me because she didn’t know she could have you.”

Roy’s fists clenched at his sides. “So, is that what you’re doing to her sister now? Making her your second choice? Really fucking nice. Fucking class, Jim.”

“You’re one to talk,” Jim retorted. “As soon as you get bored of movie nights and garden parties and dinner with her parents, you’ll be right back to those fucking models of yours. Except this time, I won’t be around to be her fucking consolation prize.”

“You better fucking step back,” Roy warned, his growling voice low. “Because you and I both know Lauren will have a fit if she walks down the aisle and sees you with a black eye.”

“If you fight as well as you play football, that shouldn’t be a fucking problem,” Jim shot back, his own hands balling up.

Before Roy could do the one thing he knew would totally ruin the weekend, Paul came dashing over, broom in his hands and panic on his face.

“Hey fellas, how’re those chairs?” he asked, unable to disguise the apprehension in his voice as he stepped between the two fuming men. “Looks great, looks great.” He cleared his throat and shoved the broom into Jim’s hands. “Why don’t you get that glass, mate? Roy and I can finish here.”

Grumbling something about “fucking football prick”, Jim skulked to the other end of the garden, leaving Paul alone with a red-faced Roy Kent. Silently, they put up the rest of the chairs, ignoring Jim as he disappeared back into the house clutching the broom with white-knuckled fists.

“Fancy a walk?” Paul offered, giving Roy a gentle punch in the arm.

Roy’s grunt was all the “yes” Paul needed; the two men strolled in silence for a few minutes before Roy decided to open his mouth.

“Gotta tell you something,” he grumbled. “But you can’t tell anyone. Not even Jen.”

Paul grinned devilishly. “I don’t keep secrets from my wife, not even for Roy Kent.”

Roy raised his eyebrows. “You want pitch-side seats for the rest of the season?”

Paul thought for all of two seconds. “Right. Go on, then.”

“None of this is real,” Roy said slowly, keeping his voice low despite their isolation. “This fucking relationship. We’re not really together.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat, avoiding Paul’s gaze. “She asked me to come and pretend to be her boyfriend. Can’t fucking blame her. Just imagine if she’d come here alone this weekend. How fucking humiliated she’d be, watching those twats rub their wedding in her face.” Roy’s throat felt dry. “I couldn’t let her go through that.”

Paul stared at Roy for a long moment, the wheels in his head turning. “Roy,” he finally said. “Can I be honest? Without you biting my head off?”

The grunt that came from deep in Roy’s throat told him to go on.

“Man, I have known you since you were what, nineteen?” Paul shook his head with a chuckle. “I’ve seen the way you act around her. You might not really be her boyfriend, but you’re definitely in love with her.”

Roy had never admitted it to anyone. It had taken him quite a while to admit it to himself. But now, he licked his lips and gave a shrug. “Suppose I am?”

That was enough of a confession for Paul. “Then you should fucking tell her.”

“That’s it? That’s your great fucking advice?” Roy stared at Paul like he’d grown a third arm, amazed that he’d come up with something so stupid and so simple.

Paul laughed, one of those knowing laughs that made Roy squirm. “When I knew I loved Jen, I told her right away. Didn’t want to let another day go by without her knowing how I felt.” He smiled at Roy, shaking his head. “You’ve been in love for the better part of a decade, mate. How many more days are you going to let pass you by?”

It was a good question. Roy felt like he’d already wasted so much time. How much longer would he make himself- and you- wait?

#roy kent playing pretend #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fluff #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

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sanjisblackasswife · 1 year

Note

There is just something about Sanji begging to taste you 😩 you write him so well, I’m so glad I found your account. On top of that you draw???????? You’re the entire package 😂

Haaaaaaaa thank u kindlyyyyyyyyyyyyy bUT FFFFF Can we talk about that though? Just real quick before I Head to bed??????

“Just One More Taste” Sanji x Black Fem Reader (NSFW)

“Sanji…” You tossed in your warm bed feeling the same familiar fingers grope and tug at your nipples from your shirt that has suddenly appeared to be unbuttoned..”what are you doing, baby?”

“I’m …I…want it.”

He always does this. Whether it’s break of dawn or the middle of the night Sanji couldn’t stop being so damn needy and touchy wanting to taste you.

You both aren’t even a couple, but one party filled night you let him eat you out once since you and him were alone in the kitchen and you were being a horny little mess and ever since he’d been glued to you.

He was like a damn parasite.

That was 2 weeks ago and for two weeks he’s been sneaking into your bedroom to cuddle you and ask for just another moment of pleasure for you. He doesn’t even want you to suck him off after he just LOVES your flavor.

“No, Sanji.” You slapped his hand away, you felt your scarf falling off your head and Sanji notices it before you and grabs it to tie it back on but you sit up and snatch it back. “You can sleep in here again, but you—-Sanji.”

His eyes were glued to your body, he was chewing on his lower lip while sitting up on his knees, eyes dark and filled with lust looking at your nipples just barely showing from the shirt and those very lacy and incredibly thin panties. So thin he could see your cl—

“Hey!” You snapped your fingers in his face getting out of his perverted trance. “Stop looking at me like I’m a piece of meat, LUFFY!”

“Wha! I would never!” Sanji dramatically gasped at you for calling him that, “I am just appreciating your beautiful…soft…sweet—“

“Stop.”

“Just one lick.”

“I’m not a popsicle either, buddy.”

“You’re Sweet Like One.”

“What?!”

“Nothing.”

You groaned back into your pillow, your thighs, breast, and tummy all jiggle in sync and Sanji’s eyes Just once again couldn’t tear away. You peaked over at his heart eyes holding his nose and you huffed,

“If you bleed on my bed again I’ll never let you taste me.”

Sanji immediately sat up straight, bare chest puffed up and held his breath. HE DID NOT want to ruin another opportunity.

“Oh my gosh…” you whined into a laugh at his antics. You’re charmed though. He has been super sweet to you and didn’t disclose your night with him to anybody he kept his cool (sort of).

You were contemplating, his tongue did feel nice for his first time. He even overstimulated you which has never happened and you have been a little str—-

“Sanji…”

You break thought feeling his lips kiss your legs, you didn’t even feel him move between them and spread them apart. He was laid on his stomach moving higher up kissing your pretty brown inner thigh very lightly giving you eye contact the entire time.

You’d be lying to say his gaze didn’t make you clench just a little.

“Sanji—“

“Please..” He pushed himself up further now applying more pressure in his kisses onto your hot inner thighs sucking each section a little before pulling away. “Just one more time…one more….”

Your breaths got shakier feeling him move to your left thigh giving that more attention, he had his eyes closed suckling on the inner fat of it so very close to your heat his cheek grazes against it. You jumped a little feeling his tongue give you small kitten licks.

“Can I…?” He was asking, but his motions were demanding. He placed your thighs carefully over his shoulders now giving your labia peppered kisses through the fabric.

“San….” You moaned turning your head away from the lustful sight. You hated how turned on you were feeling and knew he was able to see the small damp spot you left on your panties. “Sanji…”

He pulled said panties to the side with two fingers groaning at the sight and his eyes glowed, finally he was able to see it again. It was as pretty as last time he saw it and just aching to be licked by him and only him.

“Please…” His hot breath fanned over your heat, “Let me eat this pretty little pussy…”

You threw your arm over your face and nodded your head quickly in defeat making Sanji smile widely and his eyes sparkle with glee before his small soft lips attached itself to your clit.

Just for one night he needed another taste.

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winniethewife · 6 months

Text

Jewels made of stardust

(Poe Dameron x OC! Rhoswen Jewelace.)

Chapter 1: I miss you when we're mad

Words:1041

A/n: I really hope you all love it! I've been writing it for about 2 months so I'm really excited to start sharing it.

“Hey, Jewelace! What the hell was that? You can’t just disobey my orders like that.” Poe called out after her as the red haired woman struts away from the hanger, and him. Rhoswen stops and turns to him a look of exasperation on her face.

“Oh, I’m Sorry, I Just saved your ass out there! If we had followed your orders we would be dead and you know it. That was too close. I think a little thanks might be in order.” She puts her hand on her hip as she glares at him, her Emerald eyes blazing with fire.

“Thanks? You want me to thank you for that stunt you just pulled?” He’s yelling at her now

“Yeah! I didn’t realize you were stupid and blind. I may not have your title 'commander', but you're standing here because I made the right choice. That TIE fighter was going to kamikaze right into you and if I didn't shoot it down then we would all be star dust.” She stands her ground. Angrier than she's been at him before, and they’ve gone toe to toe on more than one occasion. They’re starting to draw attention. Poe knows he can’t get chewed out by the General for fighting with his captain…again.

“What do I have to do to get you to respect me out there?” he asks, his voice hushed, his tone soft, almost a whisper, but filled with menace.

“I don’t know, try earning it.” She growls at him with venom in her voice, before turning on her heel and storming off, heading for the refreshers as quickly as she can. Leaving a slightly stunned commander in her wake. As she slides past some other resistance fighters on her way in she doesn’t even bother to try to bring a smile to her face. Rhoswen pulls off her jumpsuit as quickly as she could, just wanting to get into the showers and on her way as quickly as possible, wanting to leave as little chance as possible for Poe to catch up to her. She took a quick peak in the mirror before turning on the shower, her emerald eyes meeting her own gaze, it was hard to tell what was dirt or freckles scattered across her porcelain skin. Her chin length red hair clung to her head with sweat and grime. She sighs and turns to finish getting undressed before hopping in the hot shower, hoping the hot water will help distract her from her fight with Poe Dameron.

Poe however stood stunned in the harder thinking over every that just Happened. He and Rhoswen had a very similar background. She was also the child of two Rebel heroes, she had lost her parents at a very young age and had been raised and adopted by the Organa-Solo family. She was about the same age as their Son Ben at the time and apparently Han had a soft spot for her. He had heard all the stories from General Leia Organa. Some stories He was sure Captain Jewelace probably prefer he didn't know.

As Poe finally came to his senses he looked around then decided to wander off to his quarters to get showered and changed before reporting to the General. He couldn't help but think, about her as he walks. They had almost been friends at one point, when he had joined the resistance she was only slightly younger than him, a skilled piolet herself. They had talked for a long time at the beginning, his life on Yavin 4, hers on Chandrila. Her red hair was long then and she always kept it back in a ponytail. She had a sassiness to her that he quite enjoyed. It seemed like they almost could have been close. But when he was appointed the leader of black squadron they went separate ways for a while, and by the time he saw her again with the determination to lead and fight against the First order, not to mention win the heart of the Red haired girl he was thinking about the whole time they’d been apart. But she had lost her Father. When Han Solo died Rhoswen was never the same, she kept everyone at a distance. No one got close. But that didn’t stop him from trying. That was until she was placed onto black squadron as his captain, his second in command. After that they fought all the time and were never friendly. As Poe sat on his bed he thought about the first time he saw her after he got back from destroying Starkiller Base.

~ Several months prior~

There was a lot of celebrating that night. Starkiller base was destroyed against all the odds. Poe was looking for her, Rhoswen. His red haired conquest. When he found her she was almost unrecognizable. Her signature pony tail cut off, her hair now just cut at the chin she, was at least a couple drinks in and she had been crying. Poe Sat next to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey…I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone sad about a victory against the first order… you doing okay Red?” He called her by the nickname he had always called her back when they first met. She just looks at him with an empty glare. She shakes her head and gets up, grabbing a jacket off the back of her chair. He recognized it, Han Solo’s Jacket….

“Oh maker… Red! Wait!” He gets up and follows her out of the party.

“Leave me alone Dameron.” She says as tears start to return to her eyes.

“Rhoswen wait…I’m..I’m so sorry about your Dad….” He says as her grabs her hand. She lets him hold it, stopping in her tracks. She couldn’t look at him. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and die. Poe knew exactly what she was going though. His other hand going to the ring hanging around his neck. Losing your parent, without knowing that was going to be the last time you see them.

“Just…I just want to be alone Poe.” She says as she pulls her hand away.

“I….Alright.” Poe would live to regret letting her go that night.

Masterlist

Next chapter

Tag: @femmeanonymelives

#star wars #poe dameron #poe dameron x oc #solo oc #oc #star wars fan fiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars sequel trilogy #Rhoswen Jewelace #Rhoswen #oscar isaac fic #Spotify #poevember

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obeymematches · 14 days

Note

Hello! Are you taking matchup requests? If yes, I'd like to send one in for Obey Me. I'd like a pina colada please

I'll go by ⭐. My pronouns are she/her and I'm demisexual

Appearance: I am South Asian with long wavy black hair. Usually tie my hair in a half ponytail at the back because I like how it looks and I don't really like the feeling of hair on my shoulders. I am 165 cm tall and reasonably fit

Personality: I'm calm, collected and hardworking. I can be a bit aloof and arrogant sometimes, but I make sure it doesn't get out of hand. I am curious and perfectionistic, and I'm also pretty academically smart (though I sometimes struggle with impostor syndrome lol). The gifted kid burnout syndrome is catching up, though. People say I do have a bit of a cold facade, but once they get to know me, they say I'm much warmer and gentler than they initially thought. I care deeply for my friends and my family, so I'll do whatever I can for them. I do face a lot of pressures too from having to be the perfect oldest daughter, the therapist friend (despite psychology not being my major, more of a special interest) and from having to do well in school (as much as I enjoy engineering, it is kicking my ass low-key). It may not look like it, but I'm very much a romantic, but I'm more practical about it if that makes any sense 😅😅

I often bake my closest friends and family a cake on their birthday with a silly message written on it. I also has a soft spot (special interest) for outer space and love to stargaze wherever the skies are clear. Don't know if this is important, but I do make some pretty mean South Asian food if I do say so myself

Likes: Books, herbal tea, art, lofi hip-hop, video games, anime, drawing, spicy food, affogato, outer space

Dislikes: Incompetence, unnecessary conflicts, bullies, fake friends dishonesty, cruelty, dog-eared book pages, anyone who dares threaten my family, loud noises, itchy fabrics

oh! we've done an exchange not too long ago.

I've decided to match you with Solomon.

• Your academia vibes definitely match his; don’t get me wrong, although he is a master of many things, unfortunately he isn’t a fashion icon (yet?) but he thinks academia style looks elegant / cute depending on the day. • It just means that he is attracted to you at first sight. Which is always a good start, even if you don’t elope into a long talk the very first time you meet. • (Bet she looking 🔥 when she feels comfortable and cute!) • To be fair he isn’t here to make friends with humans; he was fine neglecting the human world for several decades. He isn’t going to care more, now that another human is here…. but curiosity got the best of him and eventually he made sure to meet you before classes. (No. He didn’t attend that class.) • After your quick chat it became a weekly habit of his, to meet you there and then, start some kind of conversation (you’d think he was awkward and you’d be very wrong. Listen he communicates and manipluates his ways into forming a pact with almost every person there.) • It only starts getting awkward when he starts to like your personality for real real. For example this week he arrived 5 mins earlier and was waiting for you. • After a while you two found yourselves in front of your class’s door 20 minutes (!) before it would begin. Huh. • He liked your cold facade ngl, he likes a challenge. However, his ice cold frozen heart slowly, very slowly starts to melt as you warm up to him more and more. • He learned that you are reliable and trustworthy, which he very much appreciates. It lowkey made him want to get closer to you, I mean spiritually. Please help him with this or that, let me show you something, you must see this, etc. • This went on for months, you were truly good friends when he asked you the question you were excited to hear; Would you date me? Shall we go on a date? • Of course he jokes about it being a human thing and at first you can’t tell if hes just being funny or he is serious…. • By now he figured out that you like romantic stuff so if you agree to date him he is going to make the first date romantic just to please you! Possibly stargazing as you like that, or maybe a museum if you are not comfortable with meeting at night. • He secretly craved for a long time to have this level of intimacy with someone and so he’d make sure to please you; whatever you r love language is he does it to make you feel loved and secure! • The fact that you can and will cook is going to be life saving in the long run! • Some downsides of this relationship include him making dog ears to some of the books, he is always up to no good, very known public image so it’s hard to go out in public without anyone stopping you two (in the devildom, the human realm is safe).

My second option for you was Barbatos, honestly the only downside of that relationship is that neither of you is going to start and try to have a good conversation…. so it’s a rocky beginning, but if you get past that phase somehow, it’s going to be pretty solid if I do say so myself.

#obey me matchup #obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me swd #obey me solomon #om! matchup #matchups #obey me!#swd obey me

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wernerherzoghaircut · 2 years

Text

Long Piece After Frank O’Hara (Having A Coke With Myself) / Paying Attention To People

—Something soft and empty so there’s room to just soak in her light eyes black- brown like

that part of her face just formed out of volcanic certainty— the only thing I can smell is the coffee and my neck is hurting from a night of bullshit sleeping

but her wrists and arms and hands are nible pale like the sky two hours ago she’s about a foot shorter than me but she holds her space in this building on planet earth like a knight three seconds post joust. You know.

—pink madeup cheeks and dark dark hair, a true to life mercury but even better than that a human being, and

this year I finally found a way to hold eye contact with people moving past yearly dread for momentary visual chord plucks and with her it’s like she didn’t see me but I’m glad when moments like these are dropped in my lap anyway— reminders of how people can wear beautiful symbology and self affirming codes inches above their sleeves,

just to share the same oxygen with complete tonal strangers. Shoes and eyes have more in common than we think. No need to get into my car. The wind chimes without chiming in. Up another concrete way there’s sunlight and it seems only half deranged today. The 25th of October. Another month sober.

Another year spent trying to explain myself to people and the sky too maybe. Reviving and reliving some moments and getting socked in the gut by others. Midnight moments on my own, “spend a little time with myself” a la Tom Waits and no— I don’t tie myself up first either.

Sometimes I really miss a certain somebody’s fingers lean and physical around my adam’s apple but it’s not a causality loop the way they draw this shit: it’s like finding the right pair of shoes or a man to spend the afternoon in a gallery with.

Two years ago —only two years ago— I remember NY and walking through all these back alleys in and out of little gallery shows the day before the war back home resumed itself— an invasion rare in the course of these 21st century platitudes—but not really.

For all the noise and talk we barely ever talk about anything so you might think they’re rude but I’m starting to love succinct seemingly distant people. And in fact I’m gently and naturally starting to fall back into falling in love with well, whatever the fuck happens to catch my heart and get it to skip a little— it’s that

lag in time that goes, “hey, doofus, this is living!”

#poetry #prose poetry #free verse poetry #writerscreed #poeticstories

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everythingcanadian · 6 months

Text

Bonfire Send Off

Pairing: Thomas Barrow/Tom Branson/Jimmy Kent/Philip Duke of Crowborough/Edward Courtenay/Guy Dexter/Chris Webster/Richard Ellis/Henry Talbot

Rating: T for some suggestive content

No Warnings

Summary and Notes:

And AU of an AU. Thomas and his men are creatures of the night. Tonight is Samhain, the send off of Autumn into Winter. The men enjoy the lead up. FINALLY DAY 31 OF 31 OF PROMPTOBER! I DID IT!: Effigy I did a bit of research into this. If anything is wrong let me know please.

AO3 Portal Series Portal

Edward had verbally directed them when they were planning out their effigy to burn on Hallows Eve. Being that he had participated in a few of these when he was younger, he knew a thing or two on how it should look. Even though he was mostly of the fae his Aunt-by-marriage and blood-Uncle on his Father’s side were of the wiccan and witch communities. His Aunt’s bloodline going as far as the 1500s, or that what the passed down tales were

Philip, being their resident witch, knew what they needed to burn. The spices and herbs that he had dried and in either stalks or jars or tins were ready to be added to a little bundle. That bundle would be placed in the heart of their bonfire. He had also spent the time making each of them a parshell, although he wasn’t entirely sure if Edward would want it. He made it anyway.

Richard, Tom, and Thomas had all spent a few days sawing, chopping, and gathering twigs and sticks. They had made kindling and split logs for the base of their fire. They trussed up a couple bundles of the now dry sticks so they could stand without help. If they needed to, they could tie the bundles to the main stake in the center. Well, someone other than Thomas would.

Richard was quick in flitting from their woodshed to the cleared out dirt grounds they were going to use for this. His shadow-walking had improved. He didn’t take as long to go from place to place. And he could start carrying bigger items with him. Mainly the trussed bundles as he slipped himself into the shadows just outside of the light coming from the shed. He could get a good way before he had to shift himself out of the dark shaded grass and trees. The sun had not officially set on this side of their property. But the shed was in the manor’s shadow.

Tom had enjoyed showing off a bit for his lovers, the strength he and Thomas held in their bodies was on display as they took axes to trees and stumps and cut offs. He let the wolf inside of him out early the day before Samhain. The excessive energy had been bled out of him as he raced around the grounds and into the forest nearby. He was ready to partake in some of his own heritage alongside his loves.

Thomas had been helping plan from the beginning of October. Making little drawings from Edward’s descriptions and from the books Edward and Philip had gathered over the years. He felt useful for once. A holiday he could participate in and not be worried of being the one sacrificed. He knew his partners wouldn’t dare, but the unease of being a vampire would creep into his consciousness every so often.

Chris built the firepit and the platform on which the bonfire would stand in the beginning. He found the black-ink colour of his demonic skin bleed through in his hands and wrists, in a ring around his neck like a collar, and radiate in little jagged swirls from his spine. This was the first year they would all celebrate something like this. And he was excited. His fluctuating appearance giving away his true feelings. Their resident demon, jumping up and down in his wood-work workshop, as the day of Samhain got closer.

Guy and Jimmy were carting over bottles of liquor, platters of finger nibbles, pots of jams or spreads. Richard had made a couple of fresh sourdough boules earlier in the day for this evening’s celebration. Jimmy and Henry had watched before they needed to get on with their days.

Being in the lineage of Dionysus, Guy had made sure they would be fed and overflowing with drink. He wanted his rabble of lovers to enjoy themselves. He even caved to their half concealed pleas and wore Grecian-style robes for this. Philip had laughed, pleased with the choice for Guy’s guising, and had given the minor deity a kiss sweeter than champagne grapes.

Jimmy, their little shape-shifter, had been a mess of various animals all week. He would be a cat one minute, a hawk the next. A bat on Thomas’s shoulder, and a rather large wolf at Tom’s feet in a breath. He was a firefly dancing around Edward’s head when the blinded man had gotten surly at him to “stop it.” However he was a little taller, holding himself upright, and letting all four of his arms hold a little tray or platter or decanter in them. He wouldn’t hold this shape for long, having horse size lungs was starting to feel too odd. When they were ready he would shift into a horned bull skull and dance with Philip as the witch taught him all through October.

Henry, the former monster and creature hunter, was in a jumper from Tom’s drawers. He had his sleeves rolled up and was busy placing and piling up the wood and sticks and kindling and twigs and dried grasses on the bonfire platform. Really it was a large wooden pallet that could hold out for an hour at most as the bonfire blazed. He had sand and water buckets nearby. Thomas’s medical kit too, tucked neatly next to one of the large tables they had brought out in the afternoon. The paint on his arms and neck and chest was dry so he didn’t risk ruining Tom’s soft jumper.

Philip held out the cheesecloth wrapped ball of spices and herbs to Henry. Watching as the taller took it with care and smiled down at Philip. “At the base of the stake, Dearest?”

“Yes please.” Philip smiled that little knowing smile. His eyes roved to Henry’s arse as the man leaned over and made sure the spice pouch was placed well. “Mmm, perfect.” He teased.

Henry looked over his shoulder and saw Philip leering at him. “Alright, alright. You can touch and look after I’m done building this thing. Do you have your little altar plate?”

Nodding and pointing to where Edward was bundled in brown and beige cloth, all of it stitched together in large patches as if a badly done taxidermy. However the head piece was a crown of wet twigs and freshly conjured ivy vines securing it to Edward’s head. In the heavy looking fabric were arm holes so Edward could use his hands freely. In one hand he held a copper bowl that was burnt on the inside from many uses.

“He’s dressed up like an autumn council fae. The hand holes are only there for him. Otherwise there’d be branch-like hands at the end corners for him to manipulate and use.” Philip said softly. “He still looks quite lovely with that on.”

“It’s because he’s our Edward.” Henry huffed as he secured a bundle of dried sticks to the stake with twine. “Can you get Tom or Thomas for me? - Maybe Tom, I need help finishing this before midnight.” Henry said it sarcastically, it was well before midnight. Dinner time hadn't even reared its head yet.

Chris had carried out their lanterns and lit them for the sun to go down. Jimmy was stretching and rolling out his body in preparation of a long transformation. Thomas, Tom, and Richard were still hauling the rest of the wood over. Edward was happy to sit on a dry bale of hay covered in a blanket far enough away from where the blaze would be. Guy had finished setting down the last of their feast. Philip was running towards the woodshed. And Henry, grunting away, was securing another smaller bundle to the upright pile.

Samhain was going to be wild tonight. And the ball of offerings for the effigy like bonfire was set and ready. Now they had to wait for 10 in the evening to roll around before they could light the thing.

#otp: thomas and his men #promptober #promptober 2023 #fic #my fic

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notnctu · 3 years

Text

push & pull | kim doyoung

❀ slytherin!doyoung x hufflepuff!femreader ❀ genre - SLOW BURN, smut, fluff, a bit of humor (idk not rlly) ❀ details - hogwarts!au, fwb to lovers?, y/n is a player lol, jealous doyoung, mutual pining, doyoung is a lil mean ❀ word count - 9.7k ❀ warnings - explicit language, possessiveness (a concept of marking), dom!doyoung, angry sex?, slight dirty talk, penetration, fingering, praise kink ❀ synopsis - in which a prideful slytherin and an oblivious hufflepuff play a clueless emotion game of tug of war.

❝I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?❞

❝People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you pursue me?❞ ❀ a/n - i changed the plot a little bit as i was writing lol but hopefully it still fits everything! i said this in the teaser, but i want to preface and say that the magic/marking is not canon to harry potter, and that the only thing im using are the sectional houses/subjects. besides that, everything is made up LMAO also pls b lenient with me, i read hogwarts!au but writing it is very out of my comfort zone and am very bad at creating anything magical

READ NEXT PART

Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, mindlessly and imperfectly steals glances your way across the dining tables and under several hundred floating lit candles. He sits huddled with his few posh friends that wear the same green and silver tie situated so tightly underneath their necks. And you, just looking as dazzling as ever, with your yellow and black tie hanging loose and a few buttons undone from your dress shirt.

He hates how easily you catch his attention and his ability to spot your figure in a dense crowd. You barely even look his way in public now, often distracted by a broad Gryffindor that tries to make flirtatious advantages at you. And when he thinks it can’t get any worse, it does… as you’re flashing your bright beautiful smile back at him and the shift in your body language.

“You’re staring again.” Yuta flickers between his friend and the subject of his focus.

Doyoung clears his throat, smooths his tie and physically turns his body away from the horrendous scene. “It’s very hard not to stare when she’s flirting with other men in front of me.”

“Does she do it on purpose?” The silver haired boy raises a questionable eyebrow and Doyoung reacts before he can speak.

He perks up and narrows his eyes at Yuta. “Purpose? Like to make me jealous?” Doyoung scoffs, laughs almost at the ridiculous thought. “The answer is no. We’re not exclusive, we’re nothing.”

“If you two are nothing, then why are you acting like you two are something? Get a grip, it’s practically sickening watching you fume over a ditzy Hufflepuff.” As Yuta prepares to bite into his delicious soft bread roll, it flies out of his grip, down the long table and onto another person’s plate.

Both boys are quick to stand to their feet and face each other chest to chest. Neither one of them is intimidated by the other, but their other friends around them are rather shocked by the sudden discrepancy.

Doyoung forcibly brushes off an imaginary dust off his good friend’s shoulders and draws a perfectly strained fake smile, knowing that others may be watching and he is a Prefect after all. But most importantly, you could be watching. “Call her that again, and your dinner won’t be the only thing that’s thrown across the table.” His threat is loud enough solely for Yuta to hear.

Yuta, with glaring eyes, picks up his dinner tray and walks off with his chin held high and a brisk in his stride. Doyoung clears his throat in the midst of the brief silence and out of habit, fixes his tie back in place. He takes a seat back down and the chatter at the table resumes, but he’s beyond embarrassed and disappointed at his loss of temper that everything drowns out.

Almost everything. He feels a light tap on his shoulder and out of annoyance, he spins around hastily and sharply snarls, “what?” But his eyes land on your fearful wide eyes and the slight cower in your stance, knowing that you caught onto his bad mood. And he’s half in disbelief that you’re approaching him right in the center of the Great Hall, that you’re standing so beautiful a foot away from him.

Instant regret and guilt fills his chest, his sharp eyes soften at your pout and the concerned furrow in between your brows. Nonetheless, he doesn’t have any words to say… he can’t get himself to apologize for his behavior.

“Do you want to walk to Herbology with me?” The quiver in your voice made you seem so small, so desperate for him, that he can hear the reactions of his friends. They’re laughing, at him, at you, at the whole scene that’s unfolding. He feels mocked, being a laughing stock isn’t something he’s very fond of.

His lips form a tight line, and in a snarky tone, “you don’t know your own way, Puff? Mind you ask your own Prefect to guide you.” Fuck. He tried to find the nicest way possible to brush you off, but his friends laugh a bit louder and intensely. And you didn’t like that one bit.

Your lips part slightly in a frown, an eyebrow raised and a hand on your hip. You look as if you’re ready to attack him, to jinx him, to probably pinch at his skin. But he knows you, and you’d do none of the above. Instead, you say the one threat that causes his heart to sink into the pit of his stomach, “don’t talk to me in class.” You’re slipping away from him as you pick up your pace, exiting all the commotion in the Great Hall.

He tries to hide the disappointment that stems from his chest, and his heart beats with an inexplicable dull pain. All he can think about is the twist of your expression and he’s gathering his things rather quickly to follow after you, without even a bid goodbye to his clique.

Without any knowledge of what you two do behind closed doors and the complex history that you two share, one may view your relationship as practically nonexistent; you two are strangers, barely passing acquaintances.

Doyoung does not approach you in the halls, in anywhere that necessarily has many witnesses. You smile at him, maybe even a wave depending on your mood, but no one questions it … as you wave at almost everyone who passes by you.

Classmates might see interaction during the one class you two share, if they pay attention close enough. However, you and Doyoung are much more to each other than passing acquaintances. Although he’s starting to see himself as another name on your list of individuals you sleep with, you are much more to him than you could ever know.

He’ll never forget the first time you two met. He was patrolling the halls for anyone lurking past curfew with his nose dug deep in his heavy book on magical creatures, when you walked right into him and caused the both of you to fall to the granite.

He was beyond ready to dock off points for whoever the rule breaker may be, but you took his breath away when you hovered above him and clasped your palm over his mouth before he can scold anyone. You looked a bit frazzled as your hair was all over the place and he noticed your minimal amount of clothing in the middle of a cold winter night.

He saw the signature Hufflepuff badge on your thin sweater and the sound of your voice completely threw him off his tracks.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper at the stunned Prefect underneath you, whose body feels warm against your own. But your eyes remain frantically on the lookout for anyone else passing, despite the lack of light in the cobblestone hallway. You most definitely do not belong in this wing of the castle and knocking down a Prefect caused more of a problem in your escape route.

Quickly standing up, you lend your hand out for him to take. His long fingers accept your hold as he pulls himself up and dusts the dirt off his robe. His green emblem glows in the dim light and you’re internally screaming at the mess you just made for yourself. But you recognize his features: the sharpness in his eyes, the small curves of the corners of his lips, his neatly parted black hair.

“You’re in some deep---”

“---Kim Doyoung.” The boy freezes at the sound of his name and he blinks at you, curious as to where you know of him. Being a Prefect has its small perks of popularity, but he didn’t expect for it to go this far. “Y/N, we had brooms together.”

As he repeats your name and examines your pretty features, a light bulb goes off in his head. “The clumsy Hufflepuff that fell off her broom in the highest altitude?”

“If that’s how you remember me by.” You smile proudly, and he scoffs at how someone could possibly hold pride in something so silly. “It’s nice to see you around, you’re a Prefect! Wow! That’s incredible.”

“And you’re still as clumsy as you were a year ago. Falling all over the place.”

“Unfortunately, some things don’t change! But you certainly have.” Doyoung looks at you with hooded eyes and a cautious gaze, but you’re so outlandishly bold despite swaying with your hands behind your back. “Please, don’t take that the wrong way. I meant it as a compliment! I used to have a tiny crush on you, baseless, but you helped me catch my broomstick and I’ll never be able to forget that.”

Doyoung, unknowingly, lights up at your shameless confession and takes another good look at you. You're much more mature now, and if he stared into your alluring gaze any longer, he’d be completely mesmerized without the need of a love potion. “So you liked me over a meaningless chivalrous act?”

“I liked you because you were charming and yes, perhaps I am someone who finds attractiveness in men who are chivalrous. There’s nothing wrong with that.” You bat your sweet eyelashes at him so endearingly, and he’s a blushing mess all over the place.

Doyoung has had anonymous love letters passed on from his friends, but they were all Slytherins who yearned greedily to be associated with his status. So knowing that a Hufflepuff, with an innocent youthful approach to love, festered some form of infatuation with him does flatter him quite well. “I’ll let you go.”

You’re about to exhale an exasperated sigh of relief until Doyoung continues, “under one condition.”

“Okay, I’ll do anything.” Your gleaming eyes sparkle like stars paired with the night sky.

He rolls his eyes at you, “don’t be so quick to jump at conditions without hearing them first.” Doyoung groans and you passively brush off his comment.

“If it’s harmless, I’ll do it.”

And in the dead of the night, where only you two stand in the middle of an empty cobblestone hallway, Doyoung requests, “I want to see you again.”

Although that night marked the beginning of your friendship, public interactions were still scarce and this was mainly on the fault of Doyoung. The times you met were late nights past curfew where he was stationed at and he grew to enjoy your wondrous personality. This boy grew up in a Slytherin bubble his whole life, no one outside of his house ever dared approached him … at least, not with the warmest smile as yours.

You were everything he was not, but he liked it so much. You were a half that completed his whole, and there were growing pains he couldn’t confide in anyone else. Surprisingly, you knew his imperfections more than he did himself and yet, you still wanted to be around him to encourage him. Not to mention, you had a sudden growth in other parts of your body and formed into your features very beautifully.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed, as there were more male counterparts who smiled at you, talked about you, fawned over you. And he felt something heighten inside of him along with his existing romantic feelings, and that he began seeing you in a new light.

With you experiencing new things, like hand holding and being showered by love letters on Valentine’s Day, it was wrong of him to fester such envy over the ones who publicly adorned you. He was so blinded by his hot headed rage that he completely missed the fact that you never accepted anyone who confessed, maybe the hand holding, but everyone else was a complete rejection.

All this time, you had been waiting for him and when you two shared your first kiss together, you had an assumption that Doyoung was going to finally confess that he felt the same way. But he never did. You two did, however, further your relationship into something more intimate and taking each other’s virginities opened a whole pathway of possibilities --- none being one where you two end up officially together.

He was the first to sleep with someone else, that was his first of many mistakes that he was going to make in his relationship with you. It also became the drop of the needle for you to start seeing other people as well, to explore what Doyoung couldn’t offer, to rid yourself of the feelings you had for a boy that didn’t seem like he wanted anything more.

Chivalry was dead and Doyoung believed that the innocent youthful Hufflepuff love had disappeared from within you.

As his present day runs after you, you’re abruptly stopped by a Ravenclaw for a small chat. Damn you Hufflepuffs for being friendly and social. So, he rushes past the two of you and into the classroom to await for your arrival. The quick shade of green flashes by your side and you’re fuming incredibly at how Doyoung continues to play you like a harp.

When you slide into your assigned seat next to him, he goes off like a canon. Doyoung starts spewing backhanded excuses and endless shameless rambles about his behavior. “I told you. Don’t talk to me during class or I will jinx you. Won’t be able to talk with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.”

“You’re not going to jinx me.” With a subtle flick of his wrist, your chair is pulled closer to his. “And if you were to do so, you wouldn’t do something so cynical.” Yelping at the abrupt usage of his magic, you’re irritably pressing your ink into your journal with a newfound annoyance.

“You’re right. I’d turn you into a duck, so at least, you’re still cute to look at.” The mindless scribbles on the paper make no sense in your head, as you’re primarily zoned in on the disrupted energy you have about your Slytherin companion. These ill feelings make you almost sick, wanting to shut out any bad replay of the moments before and forgetting about the attention you seek so much from Doyoung.

“For you to successfully cast a jinx on me, you must make eye contact first.” His finger lifts your chin and you’re eye to eye with his lustful dark stare. Doyoung licks his lips, a shine shimmers from his saliva, and he’s tempted to bring you into his chambers for an intimacy he’s been craving. “My, oh my. You’re looking very charmed today.” A grin curves up and taunts you, and you’re blinking away down at the table.

“Doyoung, we’re in class. Please, focus.” Your desperate whisper turns into a whine once his cold hand slyly smooths over your bare knee.

“Are you free later tonight?” Doyoung peers over at your side profile and your skin feels soft at his fingertips. He’s imagining your intoxicating scent mixing with his sheets, your light playful kisses along his neck, and gripping onto every naked part of you. For a whole minute, he’s forgotten that he’s in class with other no name individuals and a boring professor. He has tunnel vision whenever he’s with you.

“I have an arrangement.” The grip on your knee tightens at your quiet answer. An arrangement.

“The Gryffindor who had leafy greens in between his teeth?” Doyoung treads lightly, because you’re both well aware he’s made harsher insults than that. He retrieves his hand and picks up his pen as if he’s never touched you.

He sees your head shake out of the corner of his eye, you’re rolling your lips together sheepishly. There’s something odd about your stance and he’s growing a bit more curious…. A bit more spiteful at how closed off you are being. There’s something you’re hiding from him. “Then, who?”

“Is there something you’d like to discuss with the class, Mr. Kim? If not, I’d like for everyone to head over to the greenhouse.” As the class slightly snickers and the classroom empties, you and Doyoung are stopped by your professor.

Professor Sprout, wearing her worn out Dragon hide gloves and a thin lined smile, shoves a potted plant into Doyoung’s hands, “behave, you two. Your conversations are never very secret when spoken aloud.” She gives both of you a warning before proceeding out along with the rest of the class.

Doyoung scoffs at the absurd encounter and rolls his eyes. “Ah, you’re getting me in trouble with you now.”

“I’m sorry, Doyoung. It’s better that you don’t know.” You say this every time, when will you realize that keeping your hookups a secret only causes him more agony? He catches your wrist as you both exit the corridors, he barely ever has you alone now. And to say the least, he fucking misses you.

“Spare me some of your time after class.” He’s disgusted by himself, knowing that his eyes are begging for you to say yes. Him, a highly admired Slytherin, has settled for scraps and if anyone knew, they’d never let him live.

Your hand gently clasps over his and when you look up with your starry eyes, something inside him feels at peace. “Did you miss me?” He gulps at your question and blinks at you like a deer in headlights. If said by anyone else, he would not hesitate to snap his fingers into a malicious spell. But you ask the million dollar question so sweetly, there’s no taunt… there’s no mockery in your tone. It’s full of genuine curiosity.

So, he answers you with part of his heart that you know too well. “Unfortunately.” His body falls slightly in defeat, and suddenly the potted plant is alive in his hands. It’s wailing a dangerous and annoying loud cry, completely ruining the moment.

Doyoung quizzically ponders the monstrous green plant and its magical capabilities puzzle him, possibly reminding him to pay more attention to the actual curriculum than on your unbuttoned shirt.

Moreover, your giggle surprisingly calms him in this stressful situation and you lightly pat his hand that’s still gripping your wrist. “I’m all yours after class.”

Taking the wretched plant, you hurry off toward the greenhouse to find someone to diffuse the crying creature. Doyoung laughs in disbelief at your comical animated figure running around with a pot over your head and shouting for any student to help you. So you’re not paying attention in class either?

Doyoung takes you to your favorite place, despite the rule that you’re not allowed access to it. The Prefect Bathroom remains spotlessly clean and fresh paired with an immediate scent of rosewater and wild honeysuckle. The white polished marble gleams prettily under the twinkling diamond chandeliers and you’re twirling enthusiastically in the center of the large undressing area.

He observes and smiles widely to himself at the sight of your happiness and cute giggles. It’s always a risk to have you use their bathroom, but he is always abusing his privilege to seek your enjoyment that he truly doesn’t care about anything else. Your morality has beaten him enough and he’s heard plenty about his wrongdoings, yet here you are… sweetly dancing in the one place that’s absolutely wrong. Perhaps, you two have rubbed off a little too much on one another.

“I can never get sick of this place.” As you plead to Doyoung to cast a bubble bath, you’re already stripping out of your skirt. He shields his eyes to give you some privacy and recites the charm to run hot dazzling water in the ginormous pool. A nice soothing bath is exactly what you two need after a stressful day playing in the dirt.

“This is your favorite place.” says Doyoung with a matter of fact edge to this tone.

“It’s my favorite place because I only get to come here with you.” You jump on his back and he hoists you up by your thighs. His heart skips a happy tune. “I refuse for you to tell me the password, even if you do wish for me to enjoy the simple pleasures of a bubble bath.”

“You and your right and wrongs.” With eager hands, you’re loosening his tie from around his neck. “You stripped so fast that you’re going to get a cold.”

“It’s going to get steamy really soon. Plus, I know you like me best without any clothes on.” Your hot breath tickles the shell of his ear and a blush scatters across Doyoung’s cheek. Button after button, his open shirt exposes his toned build. He sets you on the edge of the elevated step before the bath.

Doyoung smirks at your nakedness and your hot lustful expression. Leaning in until he’s practically breathing against your lips, he stares straight into your eyes. “My Puff knows me best.” And dives into you with all his soul. Fruitful drags of his lips along yours, his long tongue enters your mouth. His large hand carefully caresses your cheek to pull you further into the kiss, noses pressing into skin and with a desire to never part.

His heart swells lovingly, kissing you feels like the best thing in the world. There are no tricks, no spells, no recited charms, but you are more than magical. The same surge of energy runs through his veins, but unlike his impressive ability as a notable wizard, he can’t control it. You make him lose control. As meticulous and cautious as he is, you’re the first thing he doesn’t think through.

Your needy hands push off his dress shirt and he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. When you break the kiss, he automatically pouts and pulls you back in for one more lingering peck. “Are you going to scrub my back for me?” You smile, dragging him closer to the overflowing bathtub.

Large puffs of white bubbles spill from the rims and disappear with your every step. It reminds you of sea foam that washes upon the shore, with a floral fragrant that fills your lungs. “That’s quite an intimate gesture, but yes.”

After removing all his garments, he joins you in the large pool of glossy bubbles and the clouds of steam that rises from the water suffocates him warmly. He sits with his back against the wall and eyes unwavering on your alluring expression.

The bubbles do a great job at covering your breasts, but his sneaky hands snake under the water to grip them. Doyoung grabs a full tit and thumbs over your erect nipple, all while he holds the most sensual gaze with you. Slowly, you naturally end up in his hold and your wet back relaxes against his chest.

The beating of his heart is too loud and surely, you can feel the way it jumps out of his chest. Doyoung attaches his lips on your skin and as you’re melting at his harsh suckling. However, you perk up and snap out of your dazed arousal at the realization of his purposeful licks. “You’re trying to mark me?”

His hand continues to rub and twist your aching nipples. The sensation stimulating the growth of pleasure to sprout below and your mind to wander.

“Possibly.”

A lovers’ mark is the ultimate testament of mutual love. Engraving the skin with your beloved’s Patronus, wherever the giver chooses to mark. Love emblems are meant to be something sacred to the couple, a way to make someone completely untouchable to everyone else. Not only does the symbol glow with an iridescent shine whenever love is felt, it also numbs any romantic feelings for all others besides the partner.

Besides the use of possessiveness, it’s a beautiful way to discover one true love since the engraving of their Patronus shows up on the skin under the conditions that both individuals must be madly in love with one another. And if it doesn’t end up forming, the receiver is left with a bright, sparkling star hue in its place before fading away completely. If it does appear, it fades when both fall out of love.

“Doyoung--” His name falls from your lips as a moan and he’s running down to explore the beauty between your legs. “--can’t do that unless you actually want to commit to me.”

“I am committed to you.” The more your neck cranes off to the side and exposed to him, the more he wishes to etch the symbol of his love for everyone to see. A hand is hooked under your thigh to keep your legs spread open and you’re gasping at the slight pressure from the water.

“Romantically committed to me.” You remind him, but your train of thought is cut fairly short as Doyoung begins rubbing circles on your needy clit.

“You’re afraid of it showing up?” He’s lathering your breasts with bubbles and dragging his long finger along your slit. His greediness overtakes him and with wandering hands, he’s gripping every part of you that they can reach. Doyoung’s guilty pleasure is always going to any form of physical affection from you specifically. When he finally gets ahold of you, it’s hard for him to let go.

Your warm skin is delicate and smooth beneath the very tips of his fingers and every exploration of your terrain makes him feel inexplicable explosions of fondness. Perhaps, you’ve captivated him and although he believed it would take something as extreme as the Amortentia to have him falling for someone, you did it as easily as being yourself. His better half.

So, he’s impressed by your genuineness and how he’s willing to give up parts of his reputation to unapologetically be himself around you. No one else matters, nothing else matters, but why must it be so difficult to tell you that?

“I’m afraid of it not showing up.” You’re more than convinced that Doyoung has confused his strong sense of lust with love and there would be no possible way his Patronus would appear. It’s better to save the embarrassment for the both of you.

Spinning in his arms, the water twirls to the curves of your body and he’s admiring parts that expose above the surface. He’s matched with your beauty before him, resemblance to the stained glass window that situates above the large bathroom.

However, the doubt in your statement finally reaches his ears and he’s grabbing your ass as you settle over his thighs again. His furrowed eyebrows bring together a rather upset expression --- lip pout and all.

“Why wouldn’t it show up?” Doyoung puzzles, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck. Leaning into him, your pruney fingers trace his smooth chin and he notices your quick flicker between his eyes and his lips.

While your gentle kiss reassures him of your subtle endearment, your next words do the opposite. “You tell me.” All you do is push him away with your vague doubtfulness, like you’re constantly testing him and using his poor guessing skills to your own advantage. He can pull you close after any altercation he wants, but you push him away in any emotionally romantic sense.

“You’re rather mischievous and mysterious today,” Doyoung squeezes your ass and smacks it lightly, causing ripples in the water. “I liked it better when you told me everything you felt.”

Suddenly, his fingers poke at your entrance and his other hand drops in between your legs again. Your mouth opens in shock when his long fingers enter slowly and he enjoys the pleasurable contour of your reactions. “Like this, for example.” The pad of his fingers working rapid flicks against your sensitive bud. “How does this feel?” His whisper dances across your shoulder, landing a kiss at the end of his question.

Your moans echo in the lavish bathroom, bouncing off the marble walls and encouraging Doyoung to keep a steady pace. There’s no worry about how loud you may be, Doyoung charms every room before every lustful encounter. This allows you to let go, let free, let him know how he makes you feel.

He curves his fingers into you, pumping and dragging into your tightness until you’re practically screaming. He only has one thought, as his eyes trail down your intoxicated needy figure, how beautiful you are as a moaning mess under his control. Your head is thrown back, eyes are squeezed shut and opening them to see nothing but tiny yellow starlight.

Dainty kisses line your exposed neck line and his ego swells with so much pride. Doyoung has mastered every flick of his wrist to have you under his trance, spewing nonsensical words and forgetting anyone else that exists. He gives your erect nipples harsh licks and with a faint drag of teeth, the sensation pushes you to your end.

Sporadic pleasurable convulsions cause your legs to close around Doyoung’s hands, but the strength of his knee keeps them apart. “Doyoung… I’m going to free fall.”

Leave it up to you to beautifully announce your climax. He snickers, applying more pressure on your clit and a rubbing motion against your walls. “I’ll catch you.”

Moon crescents embed into his skin as you’re holding onto him with your whole life. As your scream hits every octave, the massive collection of bubbles that cover the surface of the bath fly and splatter every corner of the pristine room.

White and wet bubbles drip down from the walls, falling from the diamond chandeliers, and coating every steamy mirror. Doyoung’s eyes light up from the chaos, making sure you’re riding out your high for as long as he can provide.

Your body trembles with euphoria, falling forward into Doyoung’s chest and squeezing around his lazily pumping fingers. For a brief second, your mind is wiped and nothing in the world feels better than being in this perfect moment with the one person who’s Patronus you hoped would etch your skin.

If one possesses feelings that are practically unbearable to contain, one should confess… right? For all your life, you’ve lived by this statement. Friends do not hear the end of it and most surely, one should follow their own advice… right?

So why do you yearn for Doyoung in your gaze as he stands across the Great Hall as if he doesn’t know of your existence? As if he wasn’t kissing you in the Prefect bathroom a few days prior?

It’s not an understatement to say that you catch the attention of almost every person in the room, but the one head that refuses to turn your way… the one who’s looks you wish to steal… is the one person who looks right through you.

Feelings have become a nuisance ever since the first time you confessed to him and it was worse than landing on cobblestone after falling off your broom. The reason why you’ve buried them deeper than any chamber is that you’re positive that the prized Slytherin would rather be with another, preferably one from his own house.

While you try to remain optimistic and playful for the time being, you’re simply replaceable to him. He can barely care to acknowledge you in public when Gryffindors boast about you in their arms like winning a trophy. You’ve kept good relations with every Ravenclaw you’ve slept with. You’ve kindly rejected every romantic gesture another Hufflepuff has offered.

But if there is one thing you’ve learned about him is that he’s lived in his Slytherin circle for as long as he lives. And it will stay that way. You’re his sweet Hufflepuff that he’ll push away at no cost, then pull you back in secrecy.

Now if one feels as if they’re wasting their time, one should leave… right? Wrong. Kim Doyoung has skewed with your morality… and your feelings remain loyal to him since the day he confessed to see you again.

“Lemon-drop, I’ve been looking all over for you.” An arm slings around your shoulders and the notable red and gold tie is the first thing you see. Jung Jaehyun, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, flashes his deep dimples at you. “Walk with me.”

He extends his palm out for you to take and your friends painfully elbow your sides to wake you from your hesitation. Taking his hand, you get up from the dining table and follow him out the Great Hall.

Doyoung sees the scene unfold before him and rolls his eyes at how Jaehyun’s dimples are all it takes to have you wandering off with him. Despite every wicked intent to follow you two, he heads out in the direction of the dormitories to fume in his room.

“It’s such a nice and sunny day today.” Jaehyun runs a hand through his luscious brown locks. You both exit into the front courtyard as other students are scattered on the lawns mingling with one another. When you peer up at the sky, the sun is barely seen past the layers of clouds.

“Jaehyun, is there something you needed to speak with me about?” His laughter roars, full of hefty song and amusement.

“Listen, lemon-drop. I like you and I have a feeling you feel the same way. I want to mark you if you’d let me.” Jaehyun smirks and just as he brings your hand up for a kiss, you gently let go. “Am I coming off too strong? We don’t have to do it today, I just wanted to see if it would show.”

“Jaehyun, you’re going to find an extravagant person one day. A person who is going to know all your favorite castle balconies to swing from and how you like to be kissed on the nose.” His ears grow a bright red and for once, his gaze drops to the ground. “I am, unfortunately, not that person for you so I must kindly reject your confession.”

As you turn on your toes, Jaehyun lightly holds your wrist to stop you. “But, you know all those things about me. Is there anything I can do to prove that we belong together?”

“I know them because I care enough to remember things you tell me, not because I loved you enough to observe these things about you. I give you my word that there is nothing you can do to prove me otherwise.” The corners of his lips dip downward and you’re running to the one person that will erase this sad rejection from your memory.

When you’re scanning the Great Hall for any sign of him, he’s not there and it leads you to his only hiding place. Doyoung loves to shut himself out from the rest of the school whenever he gets the chance. However, a lost Hufflepuff wandering outside the entrance of the Slytherin dormitories is rather an odd sight to see and you haven’t had the chance to form many connections from this house.

The sparse amount of Slytherins you know aren’t going to be passing by, unless with some stroke of luck, someone will be kind enough to open the door for you. Every person passes by you with questionable stares until a silver haired boy blinks at you with wide eyes.

“Who is it that you’re trying to see?” He asks abrasively, but softens his tone when he realizes that you mean no harm.

You bid him a small grin, “your Prefect.”

“And what for?”

“There is an urgent matter that involves him and he’s practically unreachable when he’s hiding away in his private room.” The boy narrows his eyes at you, but beckons you to follow him down to the Slytherin dungeon.

Excitedly, you hurry behind him and whisper over his shoulder, “what’s your name?”

“Nakamoto Yuta. No need to tell me yours, I’ll doubt he’d want me to know.” He spits and then, mutters the enchanted password to reveal the large green common room. “Come this way.” He leads up the boys’ dorms and walks briskly. Although you never mentioned a name, Yuta seems to already know who you’re here to see and it makes you wonder how he must know.

“Open up.” Yuta stops and knocks at the wooden door, Kim Doyoung written in a fancy penmanship on the center. “You have a guest.” He looks your way before rolling his eyes at Doyoung’s irritated tone through the other side.

“Tell them to leave.”

“He wants you to leave.” Yuta repeats, mostly to satisfy Doyoung’s nag.

“That’s fine. Thank you for bring---” The door swings open abruptly and Yuta almost loses his balance. Doyoung frantically turns his head side to side to comprehend what he is seeing. His ears felt deceived, hearing your voice through the door, he had to make sure it wasn’t you.

But you stand before him and Yuta. Here you are approaching him whenever he least expects it. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to see you. I’ve been here plenty of times.”

“What are you doing bringing her in?” scolds Doyoung and the other boy shrugs carelessly.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her bat puppy eyes at several other Slytherins and have her telling everyone who passes her that she came here to see our Prefect? It was also getting cold out.” Yuta mumbles, but finds great entertainment at seeing how frazzled Doyoung has gotten by your presence.

“It was a bit chilly.” You admit and Doyoung groans, pulling you into his room and shutting the door on Yuta. “Thank you, Yuta.” You whisper through the crack between the door frame.

“It’s too risky for you to be searching for me around other Slytherins.” Doyoung paces the room and you notice his tie is loose and shirt is unbuttoned around his neck. “Why are you here?”

“A Gryffindor blew me off. I thought I’d come and see you with all the free time I can get.” Taking a seat at the end of his neatly made bed, your legs swing adorably and Doyoung almost doesn’t hear you.

“Jaehyun? Does he think he’s too good for you or something? That cocky dimple Gryffindor, with the draw of my wand---” Doyoung whips out his intricately customized Dragon Heartstring, and you’re on your feet to calm his temper down.

“Will you put that thing away? I’m here for you.” Your giggle warms his tight chest and puts out the fueling flame for anyone who dares to hurt you in any way. “It’s not a big deal and it’s not the first time it has happened.”

Doyoung uncomfortably clears his throat and withdraws his wand. Buttoning up his shirt, he fixes his tie back in place. To say the least, your words erupted his festering jealousy and this may have been a small tipping point.

Before you had entered, he was so frustrated with himself and you. You can just walk away with another man without a second thought, in front of him too. He remembered the soft feeling of your body and how he’s not the only one who’s needy hands ran their course over you. That may be the one pain he can never get rid of.

“I never understood why you give other men the time of your day when they just brush you off undeservingly.” He stings and you’re slightly surprised at his sudden attack. When you respond in silence, he continues.“I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?”

Crossing your arms, your weight is barred on your left leg and there is a shift in your overall mood. With an eyebrow raised, you sass him back, “People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you chase after me?”

Doyoung swallows hard and blinks at you speechless. A clammy hand runs through his black strands as he tries to find any possible explanation without confessing his feelings. If he had a plan to confess, it would never be in the middle of an inquisition with you.

“I guess you didn’t think before acting on your desires.” And how he hated how correct that statement is. He doesn’t ever think whenever he’s around you. All his actions are conducted with his emotions and the feelings that overtake him.

Doyoung scoffs, rolling his eyes at your rash comment. “Aren’t you supposed to have the strongest morality among all the houses?”

“Sleeping with multiple men isn’t morally wrong. There’s nothing wrong with it…” The slight hurt from his question is difficult to ignore, but you must remember one thing if you want to protect your heart on your sleeve. This is nothing serious to be bickering over. You two aren’t anything serious, so why feel the need to squabble over nonsense? “... it would only be wrong if someone liked me and wished to commit to me.”

Your eyes meet and Doyoung blinks at you with wide eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he gulps again, completely whiplashed at how the conversation has turned. “And if that’s the case and you like me, would that make you jealous, Doyoung? That’s why you’re trying to poorly attack my character?” He’s never heard such a strong taunt in your tone and he’s baffled by it, slightly aroused, but shocked.

“I don’t like you.” His voice is small and he pouts his lips at you. Doyoung crosses his arms and perhaps, his sad expression reveals a little more than it should have. Your heart softens at his ridiculously cute response, had you expected something much more angry and vindictive.

“Then this conversation is over, right? I’ll be on my way now. I have herbology.”

“We have the same class.” He grumbles, grabbing his robe from his desk chair.

You open the door to make your exit, “but since you don’t want to be seen with a Hufflepuff, I’ll go ahead first.” When you stumble out into the hallway, a recognizable face brightens at your appearance.

“Haechan! Hello, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You’re cheering and Doyoung chews the inside of his cheek. His pride is left at the door and along with all the things that hold him back from you, he doesn’t want to push you away anymore.

“My favorite Hufflepuff, are you just leaving?” Haechan walks up to open his arms, wishing to embrace you in the longest hug. However, Doyoung quickly takes you by your hand and rushes past him.

“She came to walk with me to class. Bye Haechan.” And Haechan is left standing in the middle of the hallway, confused and watching your backs as you’re both briskly walking out the common room.

Doyoung looks back at you, “you think I’m going to let you walk out of my room and have another Slytherin walk you to class? Don’t be so foolish.”

But you are foolish. Your heart beats foolishly and loudly for Kim Doyoung. And may you be foolish enough to wonder if his heart does the same for you.

And it does. Foolishly. Loudly. Lovingly.

You both wonder if this vicious cycle will ever meet its end. Doyoung pushes you away by ignoring your existing relationship, but pulls you back into his embrace as if it never happened. You push him away by running off with other men, but come back to him as if he’s the one person you’re loyal to.

But on this particular night, after mass circulation of rumors reaches the ears of the lovesick Slytherin, Doyoung is pulling you away from your huddled group of friends in the middle of the long corridor hallways. Without any greeting, any spoken words, he’s dragging you to his room right in front of everyone to see. His hand around yours like it was two days prior, but with an expression so grave on his sullen face.

The silence between you two brings no comfort, but you don’t dare say the first words. Doyoung, finally, approached you first in public and it is possibly for a greater reason. Perhaps you’ve done something horribly wrong, and the moment you two step into his room that you’ll hear a mouthful.

However when he closes the door to his room, your hand immediately drops from his embrace and he turns to face you. There is a darkness in his eyes, one that light cannot touch, and his lips are tight in a line.

There is an eerie silence that fills the dark room and the murky windows paint the area an ominous green. Doyoung focuses on your confused, yet adorable expression. “Why did you lie to me?”

The door catches your slight stumble and you’re blinking cluelessly at him. “About what?”

“Jaehyun.” He breathes the name in spite and aggressively loosens his tie. “He didn’t blow you off. You rejected him and he’s telling everyone it's because you’re in love with someone else.”

You scorn at such a ridiculous rumor and for the fact that it’s even made its way around to Doyoung. Another realization hits you. All it took for him to approach you in public is a meaningless rumor.

So in response, you laugh and it mocks him further. “This is not a laughing matter, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, but why are you so upset at that? Fine. I did lie to you, but I never told Jaehyun I was in love with anyone else.”

“Are you in love with someone else?” Doyoung says with balled fists at his side. There is a mixture of anger and sadness running through his veins and he’s so sick of feeling this way.

Your hesitation speaks for you, “It’s better that you don’t know.”

“You say this every time and it does nothing to ease my conscience.” Doyoung throws his hands in the air and stares at you with sharp eyes. “Is that why you were afraid that my emblem wouldn’t show up? Because your heart belongs to another. Yeah, I heard Jaehyun wanted to mark you too.”

Men and their constant want to prove something to themselves with their marks. Everyone has a twisted reality of markings now. There have been many others who have tried to mark you, feeling as if lust would be enough to suffice its appearance. As one's Patronus is special to their own protection, a beloved’s Patronus mark holds the same value.

You’re quite at a loss for words, “I was afraid that it wouldn’t show up, not because of myself, but because of you.”

Doyoung points at himself in disbelief. Him? He loves you more than anyone he’s ever encountered, even if you didn’t know it. “I wouldn’t have almost tried it if I wasn’t sure of myself.”

“You don’t love me, Doyoung. I don’t even know if I can even say you romantically like me.” Those words hurt the both of you and it lingers in the room for longer than you’d like.

“Do you think I fuck you meaninglessly like all those other losers you sleep with?” Doyoung steps forward, pulling you into his chest and admiring everything he’s fallen in love with. A pain spreads across his heart as he thinks of you with another person, of someone else kissing you, of someone else making you happy.

“You really don’t feel it in the way I kiss you?” He asks once more and your own stare drops to his shoulder, a bit ashamed to maintain eye contact with such pained eyes.

“And if I did? How would you explain that? That you are actually in love with me?” Your questions pelt him like rocks. As he pushes you on his bed, you pull him down with his tie.

Doyoung drinks you up like fresh water, a crisp and refreshing love that encourages him to reach heights. His hand cups your face and his feather touches reminds you of his gentleness. Your lips taste like sweet honey, dripping and coating him with a sticky sugar.

He’s happier with you and he’s the happiest kissing you. Perhaps, it’s hard for him to express with words, but he’d always hope his actions speak louder. So, his lips press against yours with a whirl of passion and every good feeling that grows in his chest.

The collar of his shirt is wrinkled in your fist and you’re holding him as if you’re afraid of him letting go. Doyoung runs a hand down your torso and lifts the end of your skirt up. A warm hand pushes your legs apart and a finger presses your clit through your cotton panties.

Your mouth opens into a moan and he takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue inside, lapping with your own. As a wet spot forms on your panties, he pulls them to the side and gathers the slick to gently rub your erect clit. His name is lost and muffled in the kiss, but you tap at his chest.

When he breaks away and halts all movement, he looks down over you with a fire burning in his dark orbs. And a confession falls from his swollen lips, “may I mark you?”

“And if it doesn’t show up?” Though, you’re wishing to the most powerful wizards that it does or else your heart would shatter into a million pieces beyond repair.

He bites his lip and every possible outcome scatters his thoughts. It’s too hard to concentrate, so he doesn’t at all. He focuses on your pretty lips and the way you look at him like he’s the only person that matters. “Then, we’ll deal with the consequences later.”

With your quick nod, Doyoung attaches his lips to your neck and harshly sucks at your skin. For the most part, it’s a pleasurable feeling and sends a shiver down your spine. So, he licks and nibbles until he can barely breathe. Your faint scent of patchouli and ginger intoxicates him, wraps him up in a fuzzy coziness that is unmatched.

Your hands unbutton his shirt and a final gentle bite seals his mark. If the love is reciprocated, the emblem would take a moment to form. Doyoung is rather hopeful and excited, as he’s never seen his Patronus before. “You look beautiful.”

“And you look dazed as if someone charmed you.” You giggle and kiss his red lips.

“You’re quite the powerful one, my Puff.” He smiles against your jaw before proceeding to your mess down below. He gives your aching clit a few licks, which cause your body to twist and turn at the sensitive sensation.

“Please, I haven’t felt you in so long.” Whining and tugging at his hair, Doyoung leaves a lasting kiss and gets up to remove his pants.

“Did you miss me?” Doyoung raises a suggestive eyebrow and cocks his head to the side in mockery, a smirk growing on his face.

You reply with a silly response that only he knows and causes him to chuckle, “unfortunately.” And he’s finding every way not to confess his endearments for you.

His dick stands tall and proud against his abdomen, giving it a few jerks as he watches you strip out of your own clothes. You turn around and sit on your knees, with a slight tilt forward and the arch in your back to accentuate your ass.

Doyoung rolls on the protection as quickly as he can. His hands lightly smack your cheeks and slowly enters your dripping hole. His hands grip your hips as he slides deeper into you, both being moaning messes at the delicious feeling.

“Have you always been this big?” You look back at him and to which he devilishly smiles at you.

“You know just the way to fuel my ego,” when his length is fully buried inside of your tight walls, he wraps an arm around your waist and a hand on your tit. “After all the times you’ve been fucked, your pussy is still as tight as ever.”

Doyoung slams hard into you, showing no mercy and causing you to jolt up. He takes every frustration, every feeling of anger, every ounce of jealousy into his thrusts. “But you take me so well, darling. I’ve never seen someone as pretty as you.”

His compliments cause your heart to soar, despite the soreness you’re beginning to feel in your pussy. He’s relentless, bottoming out until his tip is practically in your guts. “Just like that, baby. You’re the only one who fucks me this good.”

He blushes under the low light and leans forward to kiss the top of your head. “My Puff, you’re so sweet to me.” The loud squelch of your tight pussy gripping his dick fills the hot room, “and so wet.”

You’re shamelessly dripping on his green velvet blanket and Doyoung picks up his speed. Your knees give out as you fall face forward into the mattress, hands in fists from the incredible pleasure of every hit. Your ass now in his full view and every tingle of magic lights up in his veins.

Your throat is raw from screaming and moaning, Doyoung holds your hips steady to thrust into a new angle. Automatically, your body twitches as his tip hits your special spot and he’s well aware that you’re close to releasing.

And with his fast thrusts, he asks you an intimate question that is fueled by envy and rage. “If I fuck you the best, then why do you sleep with other men?”

There are no thoughts in your mind to even give him a white lie, to mask the truth of your actions. He’s fucking you into an oblivion that it’s hard to even focus on anything besides pleasure. The books on his shelf begin to tremble as you’re crying out, “I- I don’t know! Fuck, please… ! I’m tipping over.”

“Answer the question or I will stop.” He’s absolutely cynical and you have every reason to believe his threat. Doyoung lifts your limp body upright, against his torso and an arm secured around your middle as before. His hand snakes to your clit, rubbing feathering circles over the neglected bud.

Nonetheless, his single action paired with his tip grazing harshly against the particular spot causes your legs to tremble. “Do you want me to stop?” His threat rings in your ears when you still left him without an answer.

You’re so close, you’re starting to see white. So, you say what your heart tells you and the truth falls from your lips in a loud confession. “Because I wanted you to love me instead! I fucked them to forget about my love for you… fuck, I’m--”

“I’ve got you. Let go of yourself, baby.” Doyoung slows his hips when your walls squeeze around him sporadically. Every book flies out and hits the opposite wall, clattering the floor with heavy academia. However, he repeats your proclamation endlessly in his mind and his heart surges with the most intense romantic desires.

“I do love you, y/n.” He whispers, cumming into his rubber and simply holding you tightly. He lets go of every prideful arrogance in his body, tossing the lame reputation he always tried to hold onto. He didn’t need that if it meant losing you. Doyoung chuckles to himself for being an obvious cliché, announcing one’s love in the midst of a lustful act. He pulls out and gently tucks you into the covers.

Breathless, you’re finally realizing his confession. “You do? Are you sure?” Any subtle movements has your aching lower half in pain, so you settle with resting on his plush pillows and await for him to join you in bed.

All this time, from beginning to now, you’ve been oblivious to his yearning looks across the Great Hall. The intensity of his kisses had been lost upon you completely as you had convinced yourself that he was incompatibly of loving you back. Even now, as you lay in slight doubt, you’re wondering how you managed to have everything fly over your head.

When he discards his used protection and with a quick flick of his wrist, every book finds its original place on the shelf again, he enters the warm covers. Your arms wrap around his neck and you’re admiring each other’s expressions in the low light. He spots the notable twinkle in your eyes and his thumb lightly rubs your cheek.

“If the symbol of my Patronus doesn’t show, I promise to love you harder until it does.” Doyoung leaves the softest, most loving kiss on your lips. He’s more than thankful for the lack of light as he’s bashfully red all over his cheeks.

“Usually, people just give up.” Your voice is harsh, possibly from the deafening screaming of pleasure prior.

Doyoung shakes his head. He’s made too many mistakes in this relationship with you. Sleeping with another. Ignoring your existence. Being too prideful to be seen with another house. All these incidents have made him feel nothing but ugliness and distraught, and pushed you away further than how much he is able to pull you back.

He loves you. He’s in love with you. He’s fallen for you recklessly as you did off your broom the first encounter. You’re everything he’s never been and never will be, yet you don’t care. You’re by his side, despite his spitefulness and you never miss a beat. That innocent youth approach to love, oh how he wishes it never faded, and though he thought it did, it didn’t. You remain true to your character when he fights with himself internally.

“That would be a mistake and I can’t afford to keep making them.” A glossy sheen over Doyoung’s regretful eyes, but you pull him closer and you refuse to let his eyes wander.

A tired harmless sigh escapes your lips and a dreamy haze overcomes you. Besides the reminder of needing to use the bathroom flashing in your mind, there is nothing else you want to dissect. Feelings are too complex to discuss at the moment and the resolve has already passed.

Regardless of the marks appearing, you’re content with the night and for the rest of your days. Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, loves you back and the power of that alone beats any spell in those dusty old textbooks.

“Why can’t we lay here forever?” Your heavy eyelids fall slowly and your voice grows small.

Doyoung kisses your shoulder, then your neck. “That’s impossible. I can’t give you forever.” He mumbles against your skin, sending vibrations across your throat.

“You are my forever.” Doyoung halts and is left speechless as a white glowing entity catches his eye. And the absolute perfect outline of his Patronus sits underneath your jaw, brightly shining with iridescent brilliance --- he makes out the outline: a White Swan, representing his love for you. Doyoung smiles to himself and hopes for it to never fade. Perhaps, he can give you forever.

some fun critical questions to think about hehe -

why do you think y/n lied to doyoung about jaehyun confessing? why do you think yuta helped y/n enter the Slytherin dormitories? what is the meaning behind the White Swan Patronus? Why do you think y/n continued to like doyoung after all this time?

there are no right or wrong answers, just something fun to have you thinking a little more about the fic haha if you want, you can send me an ask about it :) but overall, no pressure and thank you for reading! please leave me some feedback if you can! happy new year!

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maybege · 2 years

Text

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

Summary: You make an advent calendar for the office. And someone makes an advent calendar for you.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.9k | Rating: T

Warnings: none just softness

This is short and sweet (I hope) and part of the December Writing Prompt Challenge hosted by @/aerynwrites with today’s prompt being Unique Traditions. I am so excited that I got to write something and finish it – and for Hotch especially! I hope that you all enjoy it and have some wonderful days ahead of you ❤ Please let me know what you think in a comment or a reblog!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Christmas was your favourite time of the year. You loved the lights, the decorations, the way your dashboards were flooded with videos of cats being fascinated by Christmas ornaments, and – most important of all – the traditions.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s an advent calendar,” you explained to Morgan who looked more than a little hesitant, “One for the entire fifth floor.”

“And what’s in it?” he asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Where is the fun if I just tell you?” you joked, cheerfully straightening the little paper bags into a neat row. This had been your fun project for the entire month of November, drawing the numbers onto the bags as neatly as possible and decorating them with little stickers of trees and snowflakes and Christmas ornaments. You had even found a sticker with a reindeer on it which you had gushed to Penelope about.

“How does it work?” Morgan asked again and at this point, you were sure he was just indulging you now.

“Every day one person’s name gets pulled from the glass and they can open the bag and gets what is inside,” you smiled, “It’s pretty straightforward, really.”

“And what will be inside?” Derek asked again and you laughed, bumping your shoulder into his.

“You’ll just have to see.”

The first week of the Fifth Floor Advent Calendar went well.

On the eighth day, you watched with a smile as Anderson unpacked his bag, revealing a hand warmer and some Oreos which he immediately held up in victory to the cheers of his friends. “It’s awesome,” he grinned, looking at you, “Thank you.”

You smiled, feeling happy that everyone had such a good time with it.

“Who is not getting a bag?” a voice suddenly asked from behind you.

You turned around, coming face to face with your boss and your heart skipped a beat.

Aaron Hotchner, much to your dismay, had become the man of your dreams shortly after you had started your position at the BAU. You couldn’t help yourself. He was tall dark and handsome and wearing suits that only fuelled your dreams about him.

Today he was wearing a striped tie and you tilted your head, taking in how broad his shoulders looked in his black suit …

“What makes you think someone won’t get a gift?” you asked, then, forcing yourself to look into his eyes and not how his hands were buried in pockets.

“Well, there are 26 people working on the floor and only 24 days in the calendar,” he stepped next to you, “So there are two people who will be left out.”

“Well, Strauss did not want to participate to no one’s surprise,” you shrugged, “And, uh, I didn’t put my name in the glass as well.”

“Why not?”

“Making a calendar is about giving,” you said, “Not receiving. And besides, I know what is in every single bag, where would be the surprise in already knowing what I’d get?”

Hotch did not say anything but he looked like he wanted to. There was a furrow between his brows, the kind that let you know he did not agree with something and you opened your mouth again, wanting to assure him for some reason. But you were interrupted by JJ calling you all into the conference room and so you gave up.

It was not like Aaron Hotchner really cared about you anyway.

It was on the twelfth day when your Christmas cheer was brought to a screeching halt. You had just come back from a case in Wisconsin and felt like the cold had seeped into your bones. With the UnSub behind bars, it meant that the reports to be written were piling on your desk and so, even after a turbulent flight, you drove back to the office with Hotch and JJ.

“You sure, you don’t want to go home?” the blonde woman asked you in the parking lot, motioning to her car, “I could give you a ride?”

You smiled, catching in the corner of your eye how Hotch just kept walking to the elevator, clearly stressed from the case you just had. “Thanks, JJ, but I really need to put some work in today.”

JJ tilted her head, a slight furrow between her brows as she mustered you up and down. “Don’t stress yourself out so much,” she said quietly, “No one would fault you for taking a break now and again.”

By the time you waved her passing car goodbye Hotch had already disappeared into the elevator.

When the back letters blurred in front of your eyes, you knew it was time for a break.

You had spent hours typing up page after page and still, it felt like you had not made any significant dent in the list of reports you needed to deliver. How did the others get theirs done so quickly?

The clock said 10 pm and for a moment you debated whether it would be the right decision to make yourself another coffee or not. But when you knew there was only one answer.

Despite the late time of day, the office was not as empty as you would have thought. Maybe it was the holidays coming up or maybe it was just busier than usual, but the bullpen was busy with people on the phone and the clacking of the keyboards. What wouldn’t you do for a spot in Hotch’s or Rossi’s office where you could just close the door and shut the world away.

As you made your way to the little office kitchen, you were surprised to almost run into Hotch right at the doorway. There was a small group of people gathered around the machine and you groaned inwardly at having to wait to get your one cup of heaven.

“What are you doing?” he frowned, his coffee mug in hand as he looked down on you.

“Getting a coffee?” you answered, “What else would I do in the kitchen?”

You made to walk around him, thinking that it was one of those moments where people just did not know which direction to turn. But Hotch did not budge. In fact, he almost seemed angry as his eyebrows pulled together and you wondered for a second if you had done something wrong. You had been writing reports for the last few hours, a small coffee break clearly could not be the problem here.

But that was when the voices become so much clearer.

“Oh c’mon, it’s your turn to pick a name today, Cassandra,” you heard Anderson say, teasing his colleague, and you smiled. You had spotted that even in your absence the advent calendar seemed to have worked and you had made a little note in your calendar to ask who had gotten which day.

“Ugh please don’t make me,” the woman groaned, “It’s annoying and cheesy, how much do you have to put yourself on a pedestal to think people would want your stupid advent calendar? Yeah, n, I say she’s a kiss ass and wants a good grade on her end of year evaluation.”

Hotch shifted in front of you and you flinched, knowing that you had just gotten caught snooping.

What was also clear was that he had heard what Cassandra had said. But you could not bring yourself to admit how humiliated you felt. Certainly not in front of your crush. Or your boss.

Ugh.

“I just wanted to get some coffee,” you stuttered, turning on your heel, “I’m – It’s fine. I should probably go home anyway, uh, I’m tired and – you know, traffic.”

It was on the thirteenth day that the gifts started.

You had decided to simply ignore Cassandra’s comment, no matter how hard that might be, and instead, look forward to the holidays that were just around the corner. You had applied for some much overdue annual leave for the week after Christmas and with the snow setting in you felt like the world was granting you a little reprieve.

All would work out.

But when you arrived at your desk, you spotted a candy bar that most certainly had not been there when you had left the office in a rush.

“Is that yours?” you asked Reid, holding up the candy.

“Huh?” your colleague looked up, looking at the chocolate bar in your hands, “Uh, no sorry, that was there when I got here this morning,”

You hummed, turning it in your hands. It was your favourite one and with how it had been left on your desk, you were sure that it was meant for you.

So why not have a bite?

The next day, there was a small chocolate Santa on your desk and an even smaller post it with the number 14 on it.

That was when it hit you. Was someone making an advent calendar for you?

“Oh, Santa!” Penelope exclaimed, immediately picking it up. When she spotted the number, she looked at you with a mischievous grin, “A … Secret Santa?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, knowing that you could hardly hide your excitement from your friend, “There was something on my desk yesterday but I didn’t think it would in this.”

“You don’t like it?” she asked, holding the Santa to her chest, “because I will gladly take the offerings in your stead. I mean, look at this!” she whispered dramatically, “I think it might even be Lindt chocolate!”

You wanted to tell her that you were very happy about the gifts and that you would never give them up, when Hotch passed you, suspiciously eying the Santa in Garcia’s hand. “Do I want to know what’s going on?” he asked, coming to a stop right beside you and your heart skipped a beat.

He was standing so close that your upper arm brushed his whenever you took a deep breath in and suddenly you found yourself over analysing. Was this on purpose? Did it mean anything?

“Did you see who put this here, Sir?” Garcia asked your boss, pulling you out of your thoughts, “We’re trying to find her mysterious gift giver.”

“We’re not,” you corrected quickly, taking the chocolate figure back so fast that the little yellow post-it sailed to the floor. Hotch looked at you with one eyebrow raised as if to say Really now?

But you just ignored him, instead holding the Santa close to your heart. You did not need to know who it was from. Because who did not like a little secret enjoyment in their life?

With each and every day, you looked forward to the moment you would step into the office, throwing your bag into the chair and smiling when you found another treat right there in front of your keyboard.

On the fifteenth day, it was a little bag filled with an assortment of candy that you liked.

On the sixteenth day, you found a little envelope with a motivational postcard in it. It was so cheesy, you had to laugh out loud and subsequently explain the pun to Reid who took it in with his typical serious face.

That card had a special day on your desk, pinned right behind your computer.

On the seventeenth, it was a chocolate bar again. But this time, next to the number on the yellow post-it, was a little hastily drawn smiley.

You put the post-it in your bag when no one was looking.

Someone was doing this and kept doing it. Just for you. Just to do something nice for you.

The eighteenth day brought with it a chocolate praline and a little note.

Your smile brightens my day.

“What do you think has her smiling like that, Hotch?”

You looked up to find Derek grinning at you, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he winked at you. Hotch was standing next to him, a file open in his hands and when he looked up and met your gaze it felt like his eyes were piercing into your very soul. You saw his fingers shift under the paper as he looked at you expectantly, seeming not even mad that Derek had interrupted him.

You could not help but smile and held up the note.

“To brighten someone’s day, Morgan,” you quipped, “Now mind your own business.”

On the nineteenth, you did not even make it to the office.

New case. Get to the jet asap. was what woke you up instead and it was only in your seat as the pressure on your ears built up that you realized you would

And that was what kept bugging you at the back of your mind as the case dragged on your almost four days. You had not thought that you would miss the little notes so much but every free second that you had you caught yourself mulling over who could possibly be behind all of this.

The thought did not leave you – not once. And so, when you were finally landing on December 23, the snow coming down in thick flakes, you were one of the first people to suggest going back to the office.

“These reports won’t write themselves,” you announced as you carefully walked down the steps, clinging onto the metal railing for dear life as a strong wind blew against your face, “And I want it all done before the holidays.”

“No one is going back into the office in this weather,” Hotch replied loudly, his voice almost getting lost in the howl of the jet powering down, “And especially not you.”

“But –“ you wanted to interject –

“This is an order, Agent,” Hotch turned around when he reached the end of the stairs, holding his hand out to help you take the last few steps. Your breath caught in your throat, feeling his long fingers gently wrap around your wrist, his thumb brushing briefly over your knuckles as the snowflakes settled on the shoulders of his coat and his hair.

“Go home and rest.”

And so, it came that you arrived on December 24 to find six little post-its on your desk. Along with a ton of treats.

But you knew it was not the candy that made your heart pound faster, it was the scribbles on the yellow paper that had you sitting down so quickly in your chair, it rolled back a few inches. Gratefully, the office was almost empty except for Anderson and his desk and Hotch in his office.

You picked up the three notes you found, your hands shaking with excitement.

For December 19 it read: I look forward to seeing you every day.

For December 22 it was: I like your new haircut. (Reid is not the only one that noticed.)

And then, finally, you found the post-it with a little 24 in the corner.

Find me under the nearest mistletoe. (If you want.)

Your heart skipped a beat and you immediately looked around, trying to spot which mistletoe was closer. You knew, of course, that Garcia had taken it upon herself to decorate the office floor for the festive season (much to the dismay of Strauss) and part of her mission had been to hang up mistletoes everywhere.

But which one was the closest?

You walked to the elevator, knowing that Garcia had put one there with the help of Morgan. Surely, that counted as a good spot? At least prominent enough that your Secret Santa would find you.

Because, well, there were only two options now.

And you really hoped it wasn’t Anderson.

Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest it felt like you would throw up from nervousness any moment now. You just hoped you would manage it a moment longer, a mine longer, even, just to meet whoever –

A large hand appeared on your lower back, “This is not the nearest mistletoe.”

The elevator pinged and the doors whirred open. You felt like you could not breathe from nervousness, looking up at Hotch as he led you into the little cabin. The doors closed and he pressed a button.

“How did you –“ you frowned, before realizing, “You did not read the note.”

He smiled, “No, I did not.”

“So … all that was you?” you asked, trying to hide the hope in your voice, “And you … you really mean it?”

“It was,” he confirmed, “And I do.”

Your eyes roamed over his suit, noticing the way his thumb tapped against his fingertips, almost as if he was nervous.

“I really appreciate it, Aaron,” you said quietly, your hand brushing against his, “It … it brightened my day.”

The little inside had his lips quirk up and your breath hitched when he turned to face you. He was so close now, you could feel his breath on your face, the warmth of his chest against yours even through the layers of his suit and your dress.

“What can I say?” his lips tugged up, “I just wanted to see you smile.”

You laughed, your nose nudging against his. His big hands cupped your face and pulled you to him, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss that made your blood sing. His lips were soft and you gasped, feeling his mouth move against yours as fireworks erupted in your chest. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as you pondered that this was the best advent calendar anyone had ever given you.

His teeth tugged at your bottom lip and you found yourself moving against him, wanting him closer and closer still.

And if he accidentally pressed you against the Emergency Stop Button … well who were you to complain?

#maybege writes #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader

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sugawara-sweetheart · 3 years

Text

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔰 (𝔪)

❥oikawa tōru x fem!reader

❥summary: your new husband, oikawa toru, is the epitome of hell

❥warnings: forced marriage + abusive parents, forced isolation, yandere-ish and controlling behaviour, emotional abuse, dubcon/noncon, ill-prepped sex + blood, sacrilege, breeding kink + babytrapping *if i have missed any please let me know!!!!!

❥word count: 3.2k

your funeral dress is your wedding dress. a white gown that should be black, a bouquet of bright flowers that should be wilted roses, the knife slicing into the cake that should be cutting right through your heart and a forced watery smile and happy tears that should be mourning sobs as you feel every last fighting part of your soul collapse.

you should’ve known it was coming. it’d been your reality for months leading up to it, coming to terms with the darkness enclosing in on you. the first time you saw his face it was a photograph on your mother’s phone, a little smile on her face.

“this is him. isn’t he handsome? you’re a lucky one.” you can’t deny that he isn’t. tall with an athletic build, warm brown eyes and silky hair, skin bronzed from the Argentinian sun. he was supposed to be every girl’s dream- a star volleyball player with a luxurious home, paparazzi and journalists clinging to his every word, sponsorships and photoshoots and a charming character everyone glorifies.

but not you. maybe it was his superficial smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes or the heavy instinctual twinge that settled in you when you stared at his face, but you didn’t like this man. the very sight of him made your stomach turn and as you turned to your parents with pleading eyes, you begged. anyone. anyone else- you didn’t care about money, about their job, about them but as long as it wasn’t this man sending shivers down your spine. but they refused. badly. angry snarls and bitter words burned in your ear, heavy threats and viciousness that you were really left with no choice. the only thing you could do was hold back your stinging tears as you forced yourself to read sports magazines and articles till your teary eyes were sore and bloodshot, trying to pretend that you could love this man. that you could force a lifelong commitment of marriage, be his wife. the woman he’d lie in bed with at night, the one he woke up with, the one he was going to be intimate with but also show to the world. he was the man whose kids you’d be forced to bear, who you’d be bound to for life.

the first time you meet him is on your wedding day. oikawa tōru.

he’s the perfect charm, but in between the ceremony, the speeches and the dance you don’t get to speak to him alone till you’re in the hotel room. your wedding gown is stiff, the corset cinching your waist till it’s painful, the lace sleeves beginning to itch and a thick lump resides in your dry throat as you settle at the end of the bed. how superficial is this glorious honeymoon suite of a luxurious hotel with the baskets of fruit and chocolate, the complementary champagne with the congratulatory greetings card. all fake. all a facade concocted by your parents and oikawa- and how he’s able to smile at you so sweetly as he loosens the tie of his tuxedo, like none of this is wrong, utterly confuses you.

“you must be tired.” his smile is all wrong, even the little crinkle in his eyes, his saccharine voice. it makes your blood run cold and you want nothing more than to curl up in on yourself, to get away from him as much as possible. but you can’t. he’d find you, or your parents would find you and drag you back. there’d be nowhere to go. no escape. “would you like me to help you undress?” he steps forward but stops suddenly when you raise your hands in protest, a look of surprise etching on his face.

“i can undress in the bathroom.” is all you say as you walk across to the hotel suite away from him.

you inhale sharply, locking the bathroom door and pressing yourself against it, wishing there was more than two inches of wood separating you and that man you’re forced to call your husband. shivers run down your spine as you gaze at yourself in the mirror. y/n oikawa. you’re his now. you stare at the unfamiliar figure until tears blur your vision too much and you can’t see yourself anymore.

you stop in the doorway when you return to the main suite, your throat growing dry as you stare at oikawa lying on the bed. he beams at you, eyes sparkling as he takes in your figure and you’re suddenly feeling too exposed in the silk nightdress your mother prepared.

“come on,” he smiles, winking cheekily as he pats the space next to him. “i don’t bite.” your legs shake as you stalk towards the bed, swallowing at its size. you’d never thought that a spacious king-sized bed would be too small, too suffocating when you have oikawa staring at you, a strange gleam in his eye that gives you a harsh sense of unease.

you’re tense when you lay down and oikawa props himself up, smiling as he rakes his eyes over you. it’s horribly scrutinising- it’s like being under a microscope as he picks you apart with just his sugared smile, orbs narrowing and his smile seeming so wry.

“you’re a very beautiful woman.” he finally speaks. it sounds like a lie. so horribly sweet it’s sickly and you have to resist the urge to flinch when he reaches out to twine a stray lock of hair around his finger. “i’m so happy i chose you.” your mouth tastes sour and your body feels icy as he releases your hair, trailing a finger down your throat, along your collarbone. he hooks it under the flimsy strap of your dress and that’s when you can’t control the panicked squeal that escapes you.

“please. n-not tonight.” oikawa looks half surprised, half stunned at the sudden bout of emotion you release.

“fine.” he smiles, but it doesn’t fill you with relief when he releases your strap, grazing his finger back along your collarbones and throat. it lingers too long on your neck, his brown eyes piercing into you and your stomach drops when you realise he’s not looking into your eyes.

you finally realise why you feel so uneasy when he stares at you.

he looks at you like you’re prey.

it’s anxiety-inducing, living with oikawa tōru. even after the honeymoon when you finally return to his home, you’re in a constant state of unease. you don’t seem to be able to sleep well, staring at the dark ceiling for hours with your body tense, even way after oikawa’s breathing falls slow and steady. your appetite has dissipated, your tightly-knotted stomach now churning with nausea and every time you hear that silky, saccharine voice and feel his coarse fingers tracing along your shoulders- his favourite way to make his presence known- you can’t help but start, heart pounding against your rib cage. you’re certain he’s noticed- his eyes are sharp and perceptive- but a part of you wonders whether he enjoys it, whether his wide smile is out of sick entertainment.

but he isn’t a bad husband, which seems to confuse you the most. it’s strange living in a new country with the hot sun beating down on you, unfamiliar language surrounding your ears and no friends or family for company. the only person you have is oikawa, and he knows it. his hand grips yours tight whenever you leave the house, and it only ever is with him. he talks a lot but he never tells you the important things. he doesn’t tell you important words you may need to know like ‘help’ or ‘police’ or ‘phone’ but instead laughs when you ask about them, waving a dismissive hand. he points out the best department store for the finest clothes and makeup but raises an eyebrow when you ask where the closest train station is, amusement glimmering in his eyes.

“and why would you need to know that when i’m here, y/n?” he taps the tip of your nose and a sour taste lingers in your mouth as you hold back the nasty words you want to spit at him. how humiliating.

oikawa becomes all you know. your day is empty spent in a luxurious home, looking beautiful in the pretty yet stiff clothes your husband buys you, painting your face in the makeup he fills your draws with yet you have nothing to do. the maids who clean your home and leave the food in the fridge don’t look at you as they work and the gardener barely gives you a second glance, leaving you feeling invisible with only your alienated thoughts filling your mind. the silence is deafening yet lonesome, that when the front door slams shut and you hear oikawa’s footsteps against the marble hallway floor, you’re rushing to greet him with your cheeks burning.

you’re never happy to see him. no, your life would be a thousand times better if he hadn’t ever been forced into it, but you still run like a dog at a bell whenever he comes home from a long day of training, his tanned skin and brown locks wet with sweat.

“tōru!” you breathe, and hearing his soft voice, his sadistic chuckle, breaks the suffocating silence you’re confined to. maybe he enjoys it. maybe he enjoys seeing your face lighten up with human contact because when he opens his arms and pouts his lips to press a kiss to your forehead you don’t resist.

but he’s not your husband because you want him to be. just when you think you’re okay with him insisting on kissing your cheek or feeding you the fruits he bought home from the market or pulling you into his arms when you’re watching a television show in a language you don’t understand but he knows perfectly, your skin crawls and you remember that you hate him.

your voice cracks on the first phone call home back to your mother. her cheery, almost proud voice rings in your ears, not knowing she was part of the reason why you feel so numb, so broken and so trapped.

“mum, i don’t like it here.” you tell her quietly, playing with the thick telephone cord. “please let me come home. i don’t like him.” she laughs at you, an awkward titter that has tears stinging your eyes. you’re tired.

“give it some time, you just need to adjust. stop being ungrateful.” she scoffs and you can imagine her rolling her eyes, her tone mocking like she’s speaking to a child. “he’s a good man.”

an icy coldness runs over your tensed body when you hear the shuffle in the doorway and you turn to lock eyes with oikawa. his brown orbs look so dark, his brow furrowed slightly and even though a smile stretches across his face, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“ah, y/n-chan,” he beams. “tell your mother i said hi.”

oikawa isn’t quite the same after that day. if it didn’t already feel like a noose was hanging around your throat, it definitely felt tighter, like the life was being squeezed from you. suddenly oikawa is everywhere, weighing down on you but it’s heavy, oppressive, cruel. you can expect your phone to call every hour, the picture of himself he set on your phone flashing up on the screen like clockwork with the same mindless questions. he knows you have nothing to do, no one to speak to, no life except the moment he gets home and infests your space with his existence. but he was sweet before, even if it still made you shudder. now he was nasty.

disapproval is etched on his face as he watches you get ready in the morning, your hand shaking as you apply lipstick when you see his eyes pierce into you in the reflection of the mirror. it makes your heart race, cold sweat dampening your palms as your stomach churns in anticipation from what words would fall from his lips.

“red lipstick makes you look like a whore. i don’t want people thinking my wife is a slut.” he spits. you don’t hesitate to wipe it off.

there’s always more. humiliating you with harsh jokes and only speaking in spanish when you meet his teammates, leaving you alienated as you try to cling to their words, try to laugh along when they sneer and chuckle at you, oikawa’s laugh always ringing the loudest. chastising in a cruel, sneering tone over the simplest of things leaves you anxious and wary, hands trembling whenever you intend to do just the slightest, most natural of things because you’re aware of his heavy gaze piercing into you, scrutinising you for faults, leaving you scared almost for whatever harsh words will be spat from his lips this time. your comfort was little before, being forced into being the wife of a stranger you didn’t want in your life, but now all of that had been diminished. you aren’t just unfortunate now. you’re trapped.

“i bet you feel so lonely here.” his words cut through the silence one day, eyes fluttering open and locking onto yours. and with his head in your lap, your fingers forced to run through his hair like a puppet doll, you can’t look away, you can’t ignore him or the smirk tugging at his lips. “having no friends, no family, no one except me.” he chuckles but you’re not sure what’s the funny bit. “your parents don’t call much do they? and your friends forgot about you when you left japan?” he shakes his head a little, eyes sparkling with cold amusement. “you really don’t have anyone to care about you except me, right?”

your throat tightens as his words ring in your mind and you realise he’s right. it doesn’t matter if you hate him, if you feel sick and trapped and hopeless when looking at him and his cruel smile, you really do have no one but him. there’s nothing to do but be his.

the scent of vanilla hangs heavy in the bedroom, orange candlelight illuminating but it’s anything but romantic or peaceful when you’re pinned onto the mattress. oikawa’s legs are on either side of your body, trapping you in with his hands pressed against your shoulders. it hurts, his nails pierce into your skin and your throat is tight, barely being able to breathe in the warm, thick, perfumed air that lingers.

“i’ve waited long enough.” he groans, slowly rocking his hips against you. your silk nightdress is bunched at your waist, your fingers gripping the cloth as his stiff, hard cock glides against your folds. you can’t deny that you’re getting wetter, each brush along your cunt building sensitivity as you shudder. oikawa looks drunk, his eyes growing heavy-lidded and cheeks flushing with a pink glow, a brief smile tugging at his lips between breathy sighs. “you’re my wife. this is right.” it stings when he pinches your chin and traces his fingers on the soft skin of your face before his lips meet yours.

it’s the first time you’ve kissed him. his lips are too much and you cringe at the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours, forcing itself between your lips and invading your mouth. you mewl, but it’s laced with discomfort as your back arches off the bed, but you have nowhere to go with oikawa weighing you down. “my sweet wife.” he purrs, resting his wet lips agsinst yours and curling his fingers around your throat.

“tōru,” you hiss when his cockhead meets your entrance, your sweating hands gripping the cloth of your nightdress tighter, heart thumping against your ribcage. “w-wait-”

“be a good wife to me, y/n-can.” it sounds sweet, like a gentle plead but his fingers tightening around your throat and the cockhead almost nudging into your hole gives you no choice. “God of creation, in the beginning, You told adam and eve to be fruitful and to multiply and to have dominion over the animals here on earth.” a shaky cry falls from your lips as he slowly slides the weeping head of his cock into your tight hole. it burns, the stretch stinging even with the first couple of inches and your walls clamp tight, a distressed groan escaping. his hand releases your throat, the skin pulsating and bruised, to travel down to your chest, pinching your nipples sharply through the thin fabric, making you wince. “father, i pray that in our marriage we continue to be fruitful and multiply.” his words ring in your ears, sounding so distant like your head has been plunged underwater. it burns, his cock forcing itself into your cunt and ripping through the flesh as deep groans fall from his lips. “let us do this physically with children who are blessings that come from You.” his fingers pinch your nipples harder, pain rushing through you. your throat tightens. the tears are hot streaming down your face. “let us also do this spiritually by birthing ministries that You have called us to birth and by making disciples that You have selected.” his moans are heavy gasps, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he sheaths the last few inches of his throbbing length into your tight pussy, his chest pressed against yours and his breath hot and heavy as it ghosts your lips. “a-amen.” orange candlelight orbs and his brown eyes glimmer through your tears as he grips your face, tugging it to face him as your cunt aches with the searing pain. “say it, sweet girl.”

“a-amen.” his lips press against yours, swallowing the weeps that fall from your lips as he starts to rock his hips into you.

the pain never fully dissipates. scarlet bleeds out onto the pristine bedsheets, dyed in the candlelight. his shadow flickers on the walls as he fucks into you, chanting your name with deep groans and heavy-lidded eyes rolling to the back of his head, harsh fingertips pinching and swirling your clit. your bloodied, torn walls cling tight to his cock, your own moans muffled as you bite your trembling bottom lip, trying to bury your face into the pillow as he pounds into you but there’s no evading his hungry kisses or the bites he traces down your throat.

“cum for me.” he coos and you shudder as his tongue darts out to lick up the silvery tears that roll down your cheeks. “cum for me right now.”

beaten down into submission. his wife. your orgasm is forced from you, bloodied slick drooling from your pussy as he swallows your moans, his hips snapping against yours faster and groaning as your walls clench around him.

“i’ll give you my cum.” he murmurs against your hot, bruised skin. “i’ll fill up your pussy with my cum, make you nice and swollen with my child. then you’ll always be mine.”

you cry out when his cum floods your pussy, so deep and warm and sticky, filling you up entirely as you whine. your hands tremble as you lift your dress, horrified to see the pink globules dribbling down your thighs when he pulls out.

you’re frozen when he lies beside you, wrapping his arms around your shaking body and pressing tender kisses to your shoulder. “you’re such a sweet wife to me.” he murmurs. “i’ll never let you go.”

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thevindicativevordan · 3 years

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Why isn't Nightwing a bigger deal? He has all of Batman's skills and Superman's faith in humanity and is arguably the most beloved hero in the DCU, but most people seem to know him either as the leader of the N̶o̶t̶ ̶J̶L̶ Teen Ttians or just Robin.

Thank you for asking me about Nightwing, I've been wanting to write a piece about him for a while now. The short version is that everyone who claims Dick becoming Nightwing was him "moving out of Batman's shadow and becoming his own man" is completely wrong.

Dick Grayson is a fantastic character, someone who saved Bruce Wayne in-universe both by forcing Batman to grow up a bit, and the countless times he saved Batman's life as his partner whether as Robin or Nightwing. Dick saved Batman in the real world as well, hard to believe but Batman was actually in danger of being cancelled due to poor sales early on. Enter Robin, a young daredevil audience stand in the creators hoped would get kids interested in reading Batman. And it worked! Sales on Batman doubled once Robin showed up which is crazy to think about, but Dick Grayson has always been a popular character. Cartoons like Teen Titans, Batman: The Animated Series, and The Batman only helped grow his audience.

Character-wise, Dick Grayson really does fill a number of crucial roles in the DCU. For Batman, Dick is proof that Batman is a positive force. Meeting Batman helped change Dick for the better, helped him heal after his parents died. With Dick, Batman can take comfort in knowing that yes, he has made a difference in the world for at least one orphan boy, which is all he wanted when he lost his parents himself. To the wider DCU, Dick is a friendly face who convinces others that Batman is competent and not a complete asshole. He took this kid in, trained him to be one of the best heroes the DCU has seen, and did it all out of the kindness of his heart. That someone like Dick can confront the evils of Gotham and not break means there's still hope for that city. As Robin, Dick has led the Titans and is an icon in his own right as The Sidekick, the original, the one every other Robin is built around copying or contrasting. The one all other superhero sidekicks are drawing on as a basis. As Robin Dick Grayson is very much on Batman's level.

Just not as Nightwing. As Nightwing, Dick has been a second rate Daredevil which means he's a third rate Batman (fully prepared to get hate for this but I've read and enjoyed the Miller and Bendis DD runs so I feel entitled to my opinion). A typical Nightwing run tends to go like this: Moving to Bludhaven (which is Gotham... but WORSE!), Dick Grayson usually enrolls in a pointless job we don't care about in order to provide some meaningless soap opera drama that doesn't go anywhere. Patrolling the city as Nightwing, he fights a variety of bad guys who are usually rather lame and unthreatening, with his big bad being a Kingpin knockoff called Blockbuster. Villains are fought, long running plotlines are set up, then everything is abandoned because it's Batfamily event time, and Dick has to run back to Gotham in order to play sidekick again. Usually his involvement is completely superfluous and it would've been better if the writer had gotten to opt out. By the time we finally get back to Nightwing's solo plotlines, the audience has usually ceased to care and the run gets cut short.

That's how Nightwing has been since the New 52 at least. Anyone who thinks that's "becoming their own man" is out of their mind. Dick is so thoroughly in Batman's shadow that he got shot in the head and spent a longer time as "Ric" which everyone fucking hated and sold like shit, than he did as Agent Grayson which was extremely well-received. Reiterating: Ric went on longer than Grayson because of a fucking Batman plotpoint Tom King wanted where Bruce was sad and cut off from the Batfamily because of Dick getting shot. Not just calling out King either, how many times was Kyle Higgins Nightwing run derailed because of Scott Snyder's crossovers? Or how about that entire run getting dumped to the side because Johns wanted to out Dick during Forever Evil, a Justice League/Lex Luthor story? DC has repeatedly made their contempt for Nightwing clear, he's Batman's sidekick still in their eyes, and he serves whatever story role the Batman writer wants.

Hell his best stories tend to have been the ones where he's not Nightwing. He was Robin in a good chunk of the Wolfman/Perez New Teen Titans run. Morrison really showcased his depth as a character when they wrote him as Batman, their time with Dick under the cowl was actually one of the first Batman runs I ever read, and no Nightwing run has ever matched it in terms of quality in my humble opinion. Scott Snyder's work with DickBats also was a high point for the character, showing Dick as competent and examining his relationship with Gotham and the Gordons. King and Seeley gave him one of the best comic runs with Grayson, a series where he wasn't even a "superhero" technically! When it comes to actual pre-New 52 Nightwing runs that are highly recommended where he *is* Nightwing, there's Chuck Dixon and uhhhhhhh... Tomasi's brief run before Dick became Batman? It's not exactly an overwhelming list.

Look there has been good work done with Nightwing, I'm not claiming there hasn't been. Tim Seeley wrote a great run with Nightwing Rebirth. Seeley fleshed out Dick's Rogues Gallery with cool new ones like Raptor, he brought back old foes like Dr. Hurt (why oh why couldn't you have brought back Flamingo too?), he gave Dick's world some character it solely needed. Bludhaven under Seeley is pretty much the only time I've really felt like it lived up to being Dick's city.

The problem with fictional cities is you have to put in the work to give them the character of real cities. You have to make the cities feel like characters in their own right. Gotham is the best example of this, it's a character all it's own, one that tells you a lot about Batman and his cast. In contrast Bludhaven is usually one of the worst. Any place that wants to claim to be worse than the city that is built over the gate to hell and gets wrecked every other month by the Arkham freaks has to really put in the work to compete. Simply put, Bludhaven typically fails utterly. There's nothing about it that makes you really buy it's worse than Gotham, I mean does anyone really think Nightwing's Rogues wouldn't get their lunches eaten by Batman's? No, no one genuinely buys that. When Bludhaven claims to be worse, it just comes across as tryhard, an attribute that does end up telling you about Nightwing in unintentional ways.

So Seeley didn't do that. Instead he created a city built for a hero like Dick Grayson. Someone who is bright and flashy, but does have an element of darkness to him. Someone who loves the spotlight, but often uses it to obscure. Seeley turned Bludhaven into Las Vegas, and that was the fucking best concept for Bludhaven I have ever seen, it makes so much sense. Las Vegas is the "Entertainment Capital of the World" and isn't that the perfect city for a hero who got their start working in the circus? Isn't the aesthetics of the gleaming casinos, the glamorous sex appeal of the performers, and the spectacle of the shows, all being used to cover up the seediness of mob bosses meeting backstage perfect for Nightwing? It's so utterly unlike New York City, yet Las Vegas is still dangerous, it's got a crime culture all it's own. Seeley used it to great effect, as did Humphries during his brief run, and I will always be pissed that DC didn't continue to use it. That should have stuck around and been the definitive look for Bludhaven.

How Seeley's take on Bludhaven was treated feels like a small scale version of how Nightwing in general gets treated. Whenever creators pitched ideas for him, if editorial thought there was potential to break big, they asked for those ideas to be repurposed for Batman instead. Anything big or good gets repurposed for Batman or tossed to the side so Nightwing can go back to his default: having irrelevant adventures in a city that is supposedly worse than Gotham but can't live up to it. Just like how Nightwing is supposedly better than Batman but never gets to show it. Goddamn it's so frustrating seeing his potential get wasted like that.

The Nightwing book should be one of DC's most ambitious books in terms of storytelling. You can go from traditional superhero stories, to romantic soap opera, to spy stories, to crime noir, to horror, to cosmic adventures, and ALL of them would fit because Nightwing is someone who has a foot in both Gotham and Metropolis. He's got friends everywhere on every team, and has been a hero longer than most Leaguers have at this point. No reason DC should still be afraid to let him loose and insisting on hewing close to what Dixon established almost over 30 years ago is only holding him back. At the very least get him some better Rogues, why the hell didn't he get to keep Professor Pyg? That's Dick's villain not Bruce's! Bullshit that they didn't let Dick keep him. Hopefully Flamingo comes back, with a slight revamp I think he'd make a great reoccurring Nightwing Rogue.

Luckily it does look somewhat like Nightwing fans have reason to be optimistic. While Taylor isn't to my taste, DC clearly views him as a "big" writer, and that they put him on Nightwing says a lot. Taylor has been selling well so far, so hopefully he gets to tell his story, hilarious that even he lampshaded having to write Dick running over to Gotham for another tie-in after Taylor's big opening arc was all about Dick committing himself and his money to Bludhaven. Scott Snyder is apparently working on a Black Label Nightwing book which will explore how he's a different detective than Bruce. The Gotham Knights video game has him as one of the main stars, and while Titans is... controversial, it's one of the most popular streaming shows and Dick is the main character. There's a lot of content coming that features him in the starring role, and that will only help his star rise further.

For the first time in, well, ever it feels like DC may be serious about elevating him. Time will tell if it pays off, but I for one choose to be optimistic that the 2020s will be a turning point for Dick Grayson where Nightwing becomes hugely popular in his own right. Not just as Batman's sidekick.

#nightwing #dick grayson #batman #gotham knights #titans #dc comics

192 notes · View notes

darkorderaf · 2 years

Note

Could I request physical affection prompt 16 with Tommy end?

Yes, of course! Here is some soft and spooky Malakai! Please enjoy and thank you for sending.

Pairing: Malakai Black/Tommy End x OFC. Prompt: Kissing knuckles. Rating: T. Warnings/Content: None; just fluff! Word Count: 629.

Tag List (asked to be added/removed): @alyhull @boutmachines @lghockey @simoneinside @sillynilly27 @vtriggerbucks

(I don’t own gif; all credit to allelitewrestlings!)

A night away from it all. That was what she needed. Too wrapped up in work, she could feel herself getting lost. It wasn’t that she hated her job or anything like that. She loved it. She met the most interesting people. Got to know them, all their fascinating quirks and little grievances with the world. Their bad and their good. Just sometimes she needed a moment to breathe in her own space and she found it in a smoky, hole in the wall bar with Siouxsie and the Banshees on the radio.

She hadn’t touched her drink much, content to sit in her corner booth and watch as the crowd moved with the sound. Her phone vibrated and she glanced down to see a message from Ruby.

Ruby: want company?

Just as she started to reply, a body filled the empty space across from her. Just as she was about to kindly ask that they leave her the fuck alone, familiar eyes met hers and she paused over her message of sure, bestie. He looked sharp. Too sharp for the bar they found themselves in. Black dress shirt, black vest, black tie. Hands folded on top of the table.

“Mr. Black,” she said as her head tipped to the side. “Figures I would find you in a place like this.”

“Find me?” Malakai smirked at her. “That implies you were looking in the first place.”

Damn it. Somehow, he always had a way to disarm and draw her in. A parry and a taunt in one. From her first backstage interview with him, even with as intimidating as he was, she knew she was fucked. But she played it cool around him. As cool as she could as she chatted with him, much to the confusion of damn near everyone given who he was and what he did. It was hard to do that when he showed that he was just as interested in getting to know her. She huffed and hid behind a sip of her drink. At least she could blame her warm face on her drink.

“You know what I mean.”

“But of course.”

He chuckled and sat back, clearly comfortable. The racing of her heart finally slowed and she relaxed too, shoulders no longer so taut. Malakai looked at her curiously with slow, languid blinks. Then he gestured to her phone.

“Well, do you?”

“Huh?” She blinked and then looked down. Ruby’s question sat unanswered. “Oh shit, Ruby. Wait, did you read my message?”

He held his hands up.

“My apologies,” Malakai said, then lowered his hands to the table once more. Closer to where hers had fallen off her drink. “The light caught my eye. That’s all I read, I assure you.”

She smirked then sent Ruby a response that said hold on, some spooky guy is talking to me. Then she set her phone where Malakai could read it clear as day. He raised a brow at her, amusement clear in his eyes.

Ruby: uh-oh. bad spooky or good spooky?

She slid her hand closer to his and he didn’t hesitate to slide his fingertips across the soft skin of her palm. Turn it over to graze his thumb along her knuckles. The sudden expression of affection stunned her and she fumbled in that coolness she tried to maintain. She leaned forward and he mirrored her. His brows lifted in question and she couldn’t look away from him.

“Huh,” she said aloud. She squinted one eye. “Hard to say.”

Malakai chuckled again.

“Is that so?”

She nodded and he lifted her hand, pressed a kiss to the thin skin of her knuckles as he held her eyes. With one hand still free, she shot her final text to Ruby.

Good spooky.

#malakai black fic #malakai black fanfiction #malakai black imagine #aew fic #aew imagine #aew fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic

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earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

villain.

| draco malfoy x reader / theo nott x reader | smut | angst |

anon requested. smutty draco x y/n where they’ve been dating for months or years and draco cheated on her

cw: infidelity, sadism, branding, non-consensual voyeurism (revenge)

a/n: this request was a lot, it was long, and it made me FEEL THINGS

The alcohol burned going down.

The bass echoed in your feet as music blared from speakers, sweaty bodies moving and grinding against one another, just mere feet away. You were disgusted by the scene before you.

Where was your lover?

“Y/N!” A drunk friend called your name.

An empty smile crossed your face. You tipped the glass back, swallowing the rest of its contents. You needed it.

“Have you seen him?” You called over the music, practically shouting in your friend’s ear.

“Seen whooo?” They giggled, fingers clutching the glittering material of your dress. It felt like nothing on your body, you felt naked.

“Draco!” You spat, shoving them off when they shook their head no.

Annoyance was all too familiar, wrapping around you like a well-known friend. Fuck.

You slithered through the party, your eyes darting everywhere, searching for a head of white-blonde hair. Your efforts proved futile.

“Are you looking for Draco?” Blaise’s dark hand caught yours, grabbing your attention.

“Yes!” Finally, some help.

“I saw him go off to his room,” he pointed to the hallway off of the common room.

Blaise’s eyes were full of terrible pity, and you felt your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach.

No.

“Can I get you a drink?” He tried to stop you.

“No, get off of me.”

You pushed your way through dancing bodies and wandering hands of drunk boys. Your heels clicked on the black marble floors of the common room, drowned out by the music.

Your mind was far disconnected from your body, and you felt like something small amongst a crowd that suffocated you. Adrenaline kicked in, and you freed yourself from the teenagers, escaping hungry grasps.

Every step you took filled you with dread. It decayed your insides, poisoning your heart and your mind and weighing your feet down. Your ears were ringing, and you could barely hear the deafening music, or your friends calling for you to rejoin them on a couch nearby. Your lungs couldn’t properly draw in oxygen, and the edges of your mind began to prickle with delirium.

You were running on adrenaline.

You practically tripped over your own feet as you tore down the hall, halting as your fingers came into contact with a wooden door. Your fist closed around an iron handle, but doubt made you hesitate.

You had an instant where you considered turning around, going back to the party and forgetting about all of this. Ignoring the whispers of gossip, and silencing the rumors, pretending like this never happened. You could leave this doorway, leave and stay blissfully unaware before it was too late.

No.

Leaders don’t doubt themselves.

You’d made it this far, there was no sense to let your bravery falter now. You gripped the handle, twisting and throwing the door open. The action happened in an instant, and all at once, you couldn’t take it back.

Reality came crashing down on you.

Every fear you had suddenly became tangible. It was very real, unfolding in front of you, and you were powerless to stop it. Every ounce of doubt vanished from your mind, replaced with horrible certainty.

Your body froze. Ice shot down your spine, and spread through your skin in gripping tendrils. The adrenaline halted suddenly, and your heart stopped racing. Your mind snapped back to consciousness. Sharp, unforgiving sanity burst through you in one horrible, violent instant.

Draco Malfoy, your boyfriend of four years, was buried deep inside the cunt of Pansy Parkinson, your roommate and best friend.

Sick, deranged laughter rose in your throat and escaped from your lips.

The party still echoed under your feet, reminding you there were so many people close by. You wondered if they knew. You decided it didn’t matter, the only people who you would’ve believed it from were in front of you, fornicating in infidelity.

“Y/N!” Your name left Pansy in a scream.

At least she seemed ashamed, hurrying to pull the sheets— your sheets— to cover her breasts. Draco didn’t even have the decency to end his rough thrusts from behind, even as one of her hands went out to swat him away.

Cold, silver eyes glared back at you.

“Are you going to leave, or do you care to stay and watch?” Draco’s tone was impatient, dismissive.

His words tasted metallic, like blood and poison.

“Do you feel guilty?”

Draco mistook your tone for amusement. You didn’t cry, and you didn’t move. You didn’t even breathe. From his point of view, you just watched the situation unfold in eerie calmness.

Most girls would have screamed. Most girls would have sobbed and begged for validation, or run away at the very least.

You were not most girls. Draco knew you were something far worse.

You were dangerous and severe.

Your eyes glittered with something dark and terrible. It sent a shudder through him, and powerful doubt ripped all of the air from his lungs.

Do you feel guilty?

“No. I grew bored with you, I don’t regret this, Pansy’s a good fuck.” Draco’s voice masked his insecurity, but you saw directly through the cracking shell, staring directly at the truth.

Your gaze locked with Pansy’s. Her fear twisted in your own stomach, igniting your nerves like electricity. Draco’s movements faltered.

A terrible stillness settled over the room. For a moment, none of you moved, the ice inside of you spreading over everything.

In slytherin, you do what is necessary.

The voice echoed in the back of your mind, grounding you in your crumbling reality.

Do what is necessary.

A malicious idea crossed your mind with a depraved smile.

“I can be redeemed of boredom,” you said simply.

Your tone unnerved Draco. The stillness and certainty was suffocating. Every lingering doubt was annihilated, along with your trust and love for Draco and Pansy.

You didn’t expect the grief to feel so relieving.

The light caught the sparkles of your dress, glittering as the thin fabric moved on your body as you walked out the door. It slammed shut behind you, sealing the room shut with its sin inside.

“What have we done?” Pansy asked Draco.

Weak girls doubted themselves.

You were many things, but never weak. Your feet carried you back to the party. It was still in full, excited swing, as if horrible sins weren’t being committed, as if trust wasn’t being desecrated.

The depraved smile remained on your face.

You were freed from doubt, they were freed from lies. It was always easier to know who your enemies were, even when they were your lovers and your friends.

The cruelty glittering in your eyes, and the sick smile on your face confirmed to everyone that you knew. Blaise wouldn’t meet your gaze. He knew, and he’d led you to them.

“How long, Zabini?”

“A couple of months.” He shifted uneasily.

Your laughter struck fear in his heart. You were quickly coming to terms with your lover’s infidelity, and it ignited something inside of you.

Wrath tasted sweet on your lips, and you breathed it into your lungs like oxygen.

Blaise expected you to be hysterical, but this was far more calculated, far more dangerous.

There was one person left who was loyal to you, and he was leaning against a marble pillar, a glass of fire whiskey at his lips.

“Theo,” you approached the brunette, greeted with a smile and a sultry gaze.

“I need you.”

“Anything,” he answered with absolute sincerity.

“Draco is unfaithful, and I want to get revenge.”

Theo’s fingers slipped in yours, and he brought your hand to his lips. His dark gaze glittered with deviance, catching you as you tumbled.

“You’ve come to the right person.”

Draco was sickened. You attended classes with him, and took your usual seat beside him to eat in the great hall. As far as he could tell, nothing had changed. Blaise, and the few others who knew about his side habit, were uneasy with your reaction. All except for Theo.

Ever since you’d began dating Draco four years ago, he’d been terribly jealous of Theo. Whenever the brunette was around, Draco was openly affectionate with you, growing possessive and territorial. He didn’t imagine it would ever be used against him, but you could turn anything into a weapon.

You weren’t one to be underestimated.

The boys talked about an upcoming quidditch match, the Slytherin team being led by Malfoy. Theo calmly discussed strategy with him, as if he hadn’t sided with you in the betrayal. Draco was too trusting of the brunette.

Your hand slid up Draco’s back, your fingers threading in the hair at the base of his neck. He forced himself not to flinch, keeping his voice even. A hand dropped to your thigh, and you sipped the drink in front of you. Your nails were sharp on Draco’s neck, a veiled threat that made his skin crawl.

“I want to show you just how interesting I can be,” you whispered in his ear.

His silver gaze moved to you, watching as you stood and swung your legs over the bench. You cradled his hand in your face, giving him a cold smile before pressing a bitter kiss to his mouth.

You left the great hall, descending into Draco’s prefect dorm. Eyes trailed after you as you moved through the common room with grace. Pansy watched you disappear into his bedroom, pain spreading through her chest.

You changed into black lace and silk, leaning on the armoire as he entered. The heavy door shut behind him, and his hands went to his tie, tearing it from his body. His silver gaze admired your body, and he began to wonder why he’d chosen Pansy over you, realizing his mistake.

“What is this?” Draco dared to ask.

“Boredom can be cured, Malfoy. You may be willing to toss me aside, but you know that I’m a better match for you. I’m the pureblood your parents pray ends up in your bed.” You pointed out, and he swallowed, unable to argue.

“Let me seduce you,” your hands smoothed over the clean white shirt that adorned his fair chest.

He watched you touch him, your fingers undoing buttons and pushing the fabric off of his shoulders. He slipped out of the rest of his clothes, pulling on the tie of your robe.

You let him skim his filthy hand down your body, malice simmering inside of you. Your silk joined his clothes on the floor, and you led him to the bed, pushing him down on his back. You straddled his waist, settling down on his lap and lightly running your nails up his chest.

You tasted poison on your tongue, and a vicious heat spread through your limbs.

Your hands slid up his arms, trapping his wrists at the headboard. Draco didn’t struggle as silk ties wrapped around his wrists, and you secured his hands to the wrought iron bars. Your sweet smile turned insidious, and icy fear paralyzed Draco.

“Y/N-”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” You snapped, sliding off of his body like a viper. Your feet were on either side of his hips as you stood over the terrified blonde, and you considered kicking him in the ribs. He opened his mouth, but it fell shut with your dangerous look.

You stepped off of the bed, and Draco thought you were going to leave him naked, tied to the bed. It didn’t matter, Pansy would be around in a few hours to free him.

Draco’s fear heightened when you opened the door without dressing, his stomach dropping when another person entered the dorm.

“Theo?” he croaked.

His body jolted as the door slammed shut, the lock clicking in place and securing your privacy. Your venomous laughter rattled Draco’s spine, and you walked to the edge of the bed, standing before him.

“Y/N, you need to let me go. Theo, untie me!” The panic in his voice fueled the fire of your wrath, and you smirked at how pathetic he looked.

“I don’t need to do anything! I owe you nothing, you weak little bitch. Beg me.”

He stared at you in disbelief, and Theo watched you. The room was buzzing with intense ferocity, your rage pouring off of you in waves and drowning everything in its path.

You were going to get revenge, and it was going to be sweet.

Draco’s will was strong, but it was no match for yours. Theo slid his tie off of his neck, but Draco was too focused on you to notice. You were entirely focused on emasculating Draco, determined to make him feel as pathetic and weak as you saw him.

“Please untie me. I’ll do anything, I’ll break it off with Pansy, I’ll do whatever you want, but just untie me, please.” The desperation was clear in his voice, fear edging in his tone.

“No,” you answered coldly, and he jerked his wrists, the silk digging into his flawless skin. A frightened sigh escaped him, and he turned to Theo desperately. Theo tossed his own clothing aside, and Draco shook his head.

“No, no, Y/N, not with Theo!” Draco protested.

You turned away from the blonde and pulled Theo against you, his tongue invading your mouth in a rough, forceful kiss. Draco yanked on the bonds, jealous fury burning through him as he watched Theo’s hands explore your body, grabbing and touching you in places that only he did.

“You are going to lay there, helpless, weak, and pathetic. You are going to watch your best friend fuck me, and you’re going to stay tied up and powerless.”

A noise rose in Draco’s throat, and your hands gripped the sheets at the end of the mattress, bending over and facing Draco. The remaining lace was ripped from your body, and you shot Draco a sadistic smile.

“You’re going to pay for this.”

“Open your mouth again, and I’ll force it shut.”

You stood up as Theo slammed you from behind, gripping the posts of the bed. Your fingers gripped the etched iron, and memories of having your wrists restrained on experimental nights came flooding back.

Exhilarated screams left your lips, Theo filling in you in perfect ways, in ways Draco never could.

“He’s so much better than you. You’ve been holding me back, Draco!”

Silver eyes were wet, delighting your cruelty. Your sharp laughter burned his ears, and his skin was raw from struggling. He watched the scene in front of him, knowing exactly how you felt, but Draco was weak enough to drown in it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” he choked out as he watched Theo circle your clit in expert, practiced touches. Draco shook his head, watching his best friend, his teammate, and his partner come deep inside of you. He watched it drip down your thighs, your ecstatic, pornographic screams pounding in his head, echoing off of the walls as your own orgasm shattered through you. Theo shared your vengeful pleasure as he watched Draco fall apart.

Your limbs were trembling as you stood up all the way, leaning back into Theo. You stared at Draco, furthering his shame and misery, twisting like a sickness in your chest. The poison of revenge was addicting, pumping through your veins like blood and filling your heart.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I’m so-”

You lunged at the boy, your fingers closing around his throat, kneeling on top of him like he was your prey.

“Draco, I will never forgive you!” you hissed venomously.

Theo was gone, leaving the two of you alone, leaving no witness to whatever crime of passion you were about to commit. The thirst for blood was thick on your tongue, the hunger for revenge making you violent.

Draco screamed as your wand burned letters into his skin in thick, black ink. You drew back, admiring your initials that were now branded onto the inside of his hip, left by your hatred. His chest heaved as he watched you in horror, making your lips curve into a sadistic smile.

“I own you.”

You left him restrained, knowing someone would find him eventually as the door closed behind you. Your heart was racing, all of your nerves buzzing from the adrenaline.

Leaders don’t doubt themselves. Do what is necessary.

Pansy walked past, and you grabbed her black hair, yanking her back against the wall, pinning her to the cold stone with your own body.

“If you ever touch what is mine again, I’ll rip every pretty hair from your head, and I will have you begging for death!” You seethed, yanking hard on her locks, tearing a terrorized whimper from her.

“Got it?”

“Yes!”

You threw her down and spun on your heel, leaving her shaking. Her scream echoed through the common room when she found Draco, and a sinful smirk adorned your face.

You found you had a taste for wrath, and a talent for violence.

#earl grey draco #draco #draco malfoy #draco angst #draco smut #draco x reader #draco x reader smut #draco x reader angst #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco malfoy x reader angst #draco malfoy x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott x reader smut #theo nott x reader angst #golden era #hogwarts #female reader

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