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ohblitz0 · 8 months

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ghost n reader are sparring and they end up in awkward positions and simons always trying to pin her down so reader accidentally feels his hard on eventually leading to reader helping ghost out in the nearest room possible 🤭

A/N: what a beautiful idea anon! I like your way of thinking c: hope you enjoy it!! requests are always open <3

Sparring with Ghost is different than usual

warnings: profanity, dirty talk, unprotected p and v (wrap it before you tap it) man handling, derogatory names, and i think that’s it???

Being recruited into the 141 task force meant hours and hours of training. You were the crew's designated marksman, a sniper specialist that caused havoc in plain sight. You were great when it came to hand-to-hand combat but the crew was still hard on you about it. You were their little birdie that shit on people from the sky. Your size may be one of your disadvantages when it comes to hand-to-hand combat so being the smallest on the team there was some tough love when it came to training.

You often trained with the boys and got experience with the size difference in case an enemy crossed paths with you. Soap and Gaz would be the main two you sparred with. You'd train with them and learn their different techniques or signature moves. Most nights you'd spar with Soap, he was often gentle at times with you, which a certain someone made clear almost every time.

"She's never gonna learn with you foolin' about like that." Ghost grumbled as he watched the two of you spar. That particular day was a bit less serious, you and Soap sharing little giggles and lingering touches that seemed to only make Ghost grumpy.

"Loosen up L.t, we're just havin' a bit of fun." Soap would chuckle with a little smirk, standing up from the sparring mat to get a drink of water, you following up after him. Dusting your hands on your thighs you laughed with Soap breathlessly as you looked at your Lieutenant.

"I don't think Ghost does fun, Johnny." you'd tease, eyeing him with a certain glint in your eye. If your face wasn't already flushed, everyone would see you blushing like a fool from your lieutenant's harsh stare. His baby blue eyes contrasted with his dark and stoic demeanor as he gave his pointers on how you were improving. Most of his comments were harsh, and very little praise was given. When Price would watch over your matches he'd always pat you on the back, a gentle smile, with sweet praise that warmed your heart. Something like, "You've been doing well, Soldier. Keep up the good work." What can you say? You were a people pleaser, those words encouraged you and made you giddy all the same.

You'd often wish for those words to leave Ghost's mouth. Deep inside your heart, you yearned for his affection. You'd take anything, even if he criticized your sloppy form. It would be worth it just to hear that rough accented voice fill your ears.

It was just like any other day, ready for more combat practice, You made your way to the gym that was on base. Wearing your usual sports bra and spandex, hair braided back neatly, you walked inside the gym humming to yourself. You halted, where was Soap?

Ghost was sitting on one of the benches, black gym shorts and a hoodie on. Of course, with his balaclava. His posture perking up as you walked through the door. He could see the confusion on your face which prompted him to speak first.

“Soap said he thinks he might of sprained something last session. So it’s just us today, sergeant.”

Shit.

You and Ghost had never sparred once with each other. He’d only watch, sometimes he would go behind you, maneuvering your body to perfect your form but he never stepped out on the mat with you. You never understood why but Soap would tell you it’s because Ghost doesn’t hold back. He’s vicious, mean, dirty, and outright dangerous when it comes to combat in the field and off. You felt butterflies in your stomach. You weren’t sure if it was because you were scared shitless or because you were alone with the man you fancied.

“Copy that, L.t.” You simply said, walking over to where he stood as you sent your gym bag down. It was quiet at first which was to be expected. The two of you were stretching for a bit before he made his way onto the sparring mat. Here we go.

“Alright, sergeant. Let’s get to work.”

You were nervous. Why wouldn’t you be? Ghost was fucking huge compared to you. He always intimidated you, he was your lieutenant, you wanted to impress him. You tried to channel your nerves away, change it into anger, it helped you. You thought of what Soap said about Ghost not wanting to spar with you and you felt something rise within’ you. You can do this. Don’t think just do.

“Don’t go easy on me, L.t. Im not made of glass.” You said, squaring your body towards him, trying to remember everything you learned, perfect your form.

“Wasn’t planning on it, love.”

And with that you lunged towards him. Going straight to his pressure points, he was a big man, have to throw him off somehow. This failed quickly as he swiftly pushed your arms away, the force moving you off balance which allowed him to sweep you off your feet. You grunted, body slamming right into the mat, but you recovered moving onto your back, ready to get back on your feet. Sadly, you were quick enough, Ghosts large body slotting between your legs, one of his hands pushing down on your sternum, trapping you.

You groaned in annoyance as you tried wriggling out of this position but you failed. His body was weighing you down, his other hand gripping one of your wrists and placing it above your head. Your chest heaved, still trying to wriggle out of this situation, something inside you started to simmer lowly. Ghost leaned in close, head tilting as he looked at you.

“Too easy, sergeant. You’re already dead. Gotta be quick on ya feet. Look at you. It’s pathetic.” He was mocking you, a small chuckle leaving his lips at your annoyed expression. He pushed up off of you, muttering a low ‘again’, as he got into position. You stood up, shaking your aching body out, rolling your neck back and forth before getting into position. His insults didn’t hurt but spurred you on.

“Shut. Up.” You hissed, jumping towards him once more, ready to clock him in his dumb handsome face but he blocked your move. Swiftly breaking your arms away and pushing against your chest, your feet stuttered back as you let out a small huff from the impact. You were stunned a bit by this move trying to catch your breath but that was your mistake. You were being too slow or maybe Ghost was just too fucking quick. He had knocked you down somehow, face first into the mat, arms twisted roughly behind your back. Fuck, he was pressed so close. Your mind was fogging up, you felt hazy just from his touch. Focus. God, you can't focus.

"Is that any way to speak to your superior?" He grunted out, pressing himself further into you, your face pressed harshly into the mat. You wriggled about, trying to escape from his grasp but it seemed futile. One of his hands moved to grip your head, leaning forward as he laughed at your struggle. Why did your body feel so hot? What is happening? This wasn't like your normal sparring sessions, something was different.

"Fu- Fuck. You." You breathed out, and a strangled moan of desperation to break free left your lips. He was just too big, too fucking strong.

"Yeah? This is what happens when you fuck around. Our Johnny boy was being too soft on you, wasn't he? You're practically at my disposal. Imagine if this was someone who wouldn't think twice about killing you." He hissed his words at you, his hot breath fanning across your flushed face. He was right and you hated it. He finally let go of you, stepping away from you, muttering 'again'. Your chest heaved, you were out of breath. You slowly collect yourself from the ground, wiping the hair away from yourself as you reposition yourself in your fighting stance. He looked at you with a shake of his head.

"What? Anything else to say? You've been a fucking chatterbox.." you trailed off with furrowed brows of annoyance. You weren't sure why you were so frustrated. Maybe, it's because you wanted him to keep you pinned there, 'at his disposal'.

He walked over to you and stood behind you.

"Forms all wrong. You'd remember you're talking to your lieutenant with that tone. Fix the fucking attitude." Which prompted you to roll your eyes, muttering a 'yes sir' before your breath hitched in your throat.

"Here. Just like that." He said as his hands gripped your shoulders straightening them out. Then they trailed down your body, unbelievably slow as they got to your hips. twisting them into a better stance which made you stumble back into him. You cleared your throat, your body felt like it was burning, you turned your head to look at him, his eyes already on you.

"Keep those eyes forward, sergeant." You obeyed, trying to keep your stance strong as he maneuvered you in a way he saw fit. He was so close, you could feel his chest against your back, you could feel his...

Wait.

"Ghost, do you have your gun holstered?" Your voice was small, in the quiet space, just the soft breathing of the two of you could be heard. It was quiet for too long, his hands still holding onto your hips, they seemed to tighten their hold on you.

"Ghost?" You questioned again, going to turn to look at him only for his hand to shoot up and grip the nape of your neck, pushing your face forward once more. Which resulted in you gasping out loud, your hands falling down behind you, gripping the sides of his hoodie to steady yourself.

"Didn't I say to keep those eyes forward, sergeant?"

"Yes, yes sir." You whispered out into the thin air. Breathing in deeply as you felt him now shamelessly press into your backside. A strangled whimper caught in the back of your throat from the feeling. This one moment just confirmed all the tension that you felt every time you were near him. All that pent-up emotion was being released at this moment, you knew it and so did he. You pressed your ass back into him, a wanting whine leaving your lips. His breath hitched, his grip on you was so tight he could break you in two. A small laugh leaving him.

"You want this, darling?" The hand on your neck loosened it and letting it fall back to your hip, your head fell back against his chest. Your chest rises and falls heavily. That warm tingle between your thighs gets stronger and stronger as minutes pass. You nodded frantically.

"Please, please do something.." you whined.

He chuckled deeply before pushing you down onto the mat. Your hands flew forwards bracing yourself so you wouldn't fall face-first into the ground. One of his hands pressed into your back, forcing you down anyways, ass up high in the air for him.

"You were so being difficult earlier, baby... But look at you now, nothing to say, hm? You wanted this all along didn't you? I felt the way you wiggled your ass into me every time I pinned you down. Just. Like. This." He emphasized his words as he thrust into your ass, pressing his hard-on close, practically dry-humping you. You could barely muster any words, feeling hazy around, needy out of your mind.

"Because.. because you were being an asshole."

"Oh, was I? You poor little thing." His tone dripping with sarcasm. His other hand went towards his mask, lifting it up to the bridge of his nose, allowing him to lean down and press open-mouthed kisses to your neck. You gasped, his lips felt so soft, and although his words were harsh his kisses were gentle and precise. He hummed as he tasted you, trailing all the way down the middle of your back. You pushed your ass back into him once more needing some sort of friction. His groans from the action was like music to your ears.

"Fuuck, such a needy little slut. Don't worry, I'll take good fucking care of you."

"Just for you, Si--Simon." You whimpered out, turning your head to look at him. Big doe eyes pleading for him to hurry up and touch you where you needed him most. The use of his name made something inside of him snap. The way it rolled off your tongue was so sickly sweet. The way it warmed his cold heart. One hand pressing on the small of your back and the other wasting no time and pulling your shorts down your thighs. Your ass is on full display for him now, his hand going between your thighs to cup your cunt. You whined out, your thighs clenching around his hand.

"No, no. Be a good girl for me, yeah?" He whispered, his fingers teasing your clit, giving you soft circular motions. Your thighs were already shaking, trying to will yourself not to clamp down on his hand again. You haven't been touched like this in ages with work and all. Your body was so sensitive to everything Ghost was doing.

“Fuck, you’re dripping..” His fingers rubbing your clit softly, a finger now entering you slowly. A gruntled gasp left your lips from the feeling as he started pumping in and out of you. Your juices were dripping down his hand making such a mess of it. You whined as he added another, your eyes fluttering closed which earned you a tsk from Ghost.

“Keep those eyes on me, baby. Want you to see who’s making you feel so fucking good right now.” His lips curling up into a smirk, the sight making you clench around his fingers. God, the little scars that you could see only made you want to kiss them gently, you wanted to kiss him so bad.

“Understood, sergeant?” He questioned when you didn’t comply, your eyes fluttering still from the feeling, but he stopped his movements as he waited for you to obey his command. You whined as you felt him pull out of you. The dull ache inside you was there again as you clenched on nothing.

“Yes, sir. Just please— please.” You couldn’t even give him a coherent response. Already dumb for him. Your thoughts just filled with the man behind you with a shit eating grin on that handsome face.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

He swiftly flipped you over, pulling the rest of your bottoms off as he slowly pressed himself between your legs. Now you had now choice but to look at the man above you. You weren’t complaining though. He pulled his gym shorts down, his cock springing free. He sighed as stroked his cock a few times, your juices spreading across his length from the hand that he used on you before. One of his hands grasped your hip as he lined himself up, the tip of his cock teasingly pressing up and down your folds.

“Look so pretty right now…” His words almost a whisper like he was saying it more to himself than to you. Then he pressed into you, thrusting all the inside. You moaned loudly, throwing your head back from feeling so full. He started thrusting, not giving you any time to adjust to his size.

“Fuck, you’re so big..” You whimpered out, your hands outstretched forwards wanting to hold him, needing something to latch onto. He pressed one of his hands beside your head leaning over you, grinding into you slowly. He groaned as you clenched down on him hard. You hands instantly wrapped around to his back, slithering under his hoodie, next time you’re definitely gonna scold him for not stripping himself entirely of his clothes. For now, this would do because he was fucking you so well that you saw stars.

“Yeah, baby? You feel so good. Like you were made for me.” He grunted out as he started pistening inside you, making you whimper from the pace. The way he filled you to the brim made your stomach curl in way that you knew was bringing you to that familiar edge. He leaned down, giving you neck and collarbones open mouthed kisses that made your head spin.

“‘M gonna— ‘m gonna, hmf!” you moaned out, a babbling mess as he continued his assault on you. Your head was thrown back, your body arched into him, breasts flush with his chest.

“You want to cum, don’t you? Fucking hell— I feel you clenching down on me so fucking hard.” He snarled into your neck, giving it a small nip, which made you whimper out in bliss. You could only nod from his dirty words, eyes half lidded, cockdrunk.

You knew he was close too because his thrusting became sloppier as he was nearing the end. Your shaky hands went and grasped his face bringing it to yours for a rough kiss, nipping his bottom lip, a groan leaving his mouth.

“Cum with me, please, please cum inside me..” you whimpered, your arm going over you face to hide your flushed expression. Why were you embarrassed by the confession? Ghost was 9 inches deep inside you right now. He tsked grabbing that arm and pinning it above your head.

“Yeah? Want me to breed you? Gotta see that pretty face when I do it.” He grinned, his hips thrusting into your faster and harder now, one hand going to your clit to rub circles against it. You squealed from the feeling, it was almost overpowering, taking over your whole body when soon you whimpered out a small, ‘si!’ as you came all over his cock.

“Thaaats my good fucking girl. Creaming my cock, hm? God. You’re so fucking pretty like this. All mine to use. Fuck—“ he groaned, still circling his hips into you as your body laid limp in his hold, shaking a bit from the overstimulating feeling.

“Fuuckin’—“ hard thrust, “Hellll.” One more hard thrust before he emptied himself inside you. He moaned against your neck, as he leaned over your body, panting. You giggled, hands running up and down his back. He rolled over with a deep sigh, both of you laying there out of breath. Your moans were pretty but the sound of your laugh was the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

“You were right, L.t.” You said with more little giggles, making his head turn towards you with a lopsided grin. His elbow nudging your side, with a small laugh of his own.

“Right about what, sergeant?” He replied, his voice rough and hoarse, the sound warmed your hearth.

“You didn’t go easy on me— actually went pretty hard on me.” You laughed again, turning over to get a good look at him. Seeing him smile made this night all the more perfect.

“You’re an idiot.” He grumbled out with a grin.

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The next morning the two of you were already in the gym when Soap walked in. It would have seemed like a normal day to Soap but he noticed something. Ghost had been more talkative during this session, even to go as far as offering to spar which was not normal at all. He also noticed how the two of you gave each other lingering stares and even lingering touches. You almost giggled at everything the man was saying.

When the three of you took a break to catch your breathes, Soap raised a brow as you offered some of your water to Ghost. A bashful smile on your face, a rosy cheeks as he took it from you, giving you a small pat on the head.

“What the fuck did I miss?” The scot asked which in turn you and Ghost whipped your heads around in union.

“Nothing that concerns you, Johnny.” Ghost grumbled, which made you giggled more. Mouthing, ‘I’ll tell you later’ to Soap with a wink.

#captain price #ghost mw2 #john price #simon ghost riley #gaz mw2 #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap call of duty #simon riley x you

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ornii · 1 year

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“Bitterly Beautiful”

Wednesday Addams X Blind Male Reader. Part (1)

• This was a Story i posted on my Wattpad and decided to post it here, also thanks for reading it btw. I decided to use tumblr and well here I am.

Nevermore Academy, founded in 1791, to house and Teach the most, unique, individuals. Some were Vampires, Werewolves, and some even the most otherworldly beings, but there even existed monsters from beyond the bounds of reality. That could not be any more true than the boy who awakens in his dormitory room, he keeps his eyes closed but sits up with a weary yawn. He, without much issue gets dressed in the classic Nevermore uniform, the grimly striped blazer with shirt, tie and sweater combination of black sleek pants. After putting a pair of dark oval glasses on, he turns left and grabs a cane, a very antique design with a steel crow embodied design for the handle. He twirls it and walks to the door and leaves for the morning.

The boy enters a large courtyard, where the sounds of students bellowing, talking, howling, fill his ears. He places a tea cup on the stone table as he walks and sits down upon a stone seat and towards the table. He felt dust brush up against his skin, mostly his face. Not being able to use your eyes has its major disadvantages, but it also provides small bonuses. One was the much more heightened senses of Smell, touch, hearing and taste. Since the lack of eyesight was prominent. The other senses had to work harder to compensate for the loss, so even the slightest brush of wind picking up, he could notice. He removes his glasses and begins to wipe them off, but it was interrupted by a pair of oddly soft hands covering his face, which really does little to stop him.

"Guess Who~" The Mysterious and Cheerful voice asked under a muffled giggle. The boy stopped wiping his glasses and just smiled.

"Enid.. you know that doesn't work, right?" He said, and she lets go, and sits next to him.

"I know, but I didn't want to cover your ears, you couldn't hear me then (Y/n)." She says smiling, this was Enid Sinclair, a Werewolf and overall pretty amazing girl. They met during his first tenure at Nevermore and sort of, Clicked, not intentionally of course. She had her bright bubbly attitude which melted down his more cold and indifferent attitude towards everything and everyone, and now (Y/n) "Views" life in a more, honest fashion. He smiles hearing her voice, and tilts his head slightly to her direction.

"Well, what's new? You're pretty exited.." He asks and he notices her heartbeat is faster than average, and he can just hear the gleaming in her voice.

"I should and called you about it but let me give you the deets, I'm getting a roomie!" She says, and he smiles in response.

"That's great, is someone changing dorms?"

"No, she's transferring from another school, Wednesday Addams! I did. my research and she got expelled from her last school." Enid casually explains, and (Y/n) takes a sip of his Assam black tea, before listening to more of Enids explanation

"Yeah she tossed piranhas into the school pool and a boy lost a testicle." She flatly said which causes (Y/n) to cough up his Tea hearing that.

"E-Enid, are you... sure You want someone like that to Room with you? I think Principal Weems would understand you wanting a transfer."

"What? No! We're going to be the best of friends! I can already picture it! Doing each others hair, nails, talking about all the gossip at Nevermore, the Boys~" Enid was too much in a euphoric mood to listen to reason, (Y/n) simply nodded and acted happy for her, subconsciously worried for her health.

"Well, I hope you have fun then." He said, before the Principal Weems spoke up from behind them.

"Miss Sinclair." She said with this gaudy and proper tone, Enid quickly turns around, and smiles.

"Please, allow me to bring you up to your new Roommate, good morning also to you Mister Healy." She said, turning her attention towards (Y/n), who gives a solemn bow to principal Weems.

"Good Morning Principal." He replies, "Could I ask you what time it is?" He said, and she checks her watch.

"Nearing Seven."

"Ah, well I should get to feeding the crows then." He said, Enid and (Y/n) stand up and she waves him goodbye as she walks off with the Principal, he gives her a small wave back before walking away. He, without much issue, walks over to what seems to look like a Bin, he digs into it and takes out a bag, opening it, was full of an assortment of seeds. He tosses the bag as it opens and spills the seeds, he grabs a handful, and with the other arm, he taps his Cane on the ground twice. The Caws echo from the dead trees outside the Academy. They soar like a platoon of airmen. They land and peck, eating the seeds hungrily.

"You all seem eager, good." He says, and one flies up and lands on his arm. He smiles, it's caw echoes like music to his ears. He soon felt the crow fly off his arms desperately, all the crows fly away as if they're trying to avoid something. He feels a pair of footsteps approach. He acts oblivious until Enids voice comes though like music.

"And this, is (Y/n) Hearly. (Y/n), this is Wednesday Addams." Enid said, he turns around to sense a, dark presence, the sound waves echo and it forms a decent image of the woman standing next to Enid, the aura about her was a sense of utter dread. (Y/n) tries to put it behind him and offers a handshake.

"(Y/n), nice to meet you." He says, she takes it, firmly but her skin felt like ice. Sending chills down his spine he shivers slightly from it. He lets go a bit quickly and motions to the front.

"Welcome to Nevermore—" he begins but she cuts him off.

"You can skip the school Introductions your "Bestie" already informed me. I have no intention to stay here." She said, and Enid tries to make the situation better.

"Anyway, I came to ask if you could help move her stuff to the room!" She says and (Y/n) bows.

"I'd love to help." He says, Wednesday just stares morbidly at him, emotionless, cold. Shes analyzing him, she looks at his cane.

"You're Blind." She Said. And he laughed.

"Oh, how very perceptive of you, yes. I am." He Said, sarcastically, but her eyes still focused.

"You seem much more focused on your surroundings than the average blind person, you probably heard us approaching." She continues.

"Huh, can't get anything past you, can I? A question if I may, what happened at your old school?" He asked, and her response was short but terrifying.

"The only person who gets to torture my brother is me." She replies in that deadpan mundane tone, which sends shivers down his spine, he attempts to play it off.

"Ah, understandable, so... you don't plan to stay? Why not?" He asked, "This was my parents' idea. They've been looking for any excuse to send me here. It's all a part of their nefarious, yet completely obvious plan."

"What plan?" Enid asked.

"To turn me into a version of themselves." She replies, and Enid looks a bit, curious.

"In that case, perhaps you can clear something up. Rumor's been swirling around that you killed a kid at your old school, and your parents pulled strings to get you off." Enid says, and (Y/n) chimes in. "Murder?"

"Actually, it was two kids, but who's counting?" She says, Enid and (Y/n) sees both taken aback by her odd behavior, even for an outcast. "Right.." Enid begins, "Let me give you a wiki on Nevermore's social scene."

"I'm not interested in participating in tribal adolescent clichés."

"Well, then use it to fill your obviously bottomless pit of disdain. There are many flavors of outcasts here, but the four main cliques are Fangs, Furs, Stoners and Scales. Those are the Fangs, AKA vampires. Some of them have literally been here for decades. That bunch of knuckleheads are Furs, AKA werewolves. Like me!" Enid says to herself.

"Full moons get pretty loud around here. That's when Furs "wolf out." Id suggest you pick up noise-cancelling headphones, they've saved me ample sleep." (Y/n) says.

"I'm assuming Scales are sirens?" Wednesday said.

"You catch on quick. And that girl, Bianca Barclay, is the closest thing Nevermore has to royalty. Although her crown's been slipping lately. She used to date our resident tortured artist, Xavier Thorpe. But they broke up at the beginning of the semester. Reason unknown." Enid explains, much to Wednesday's uncaring attitude.

"Fascinating. And you?" She asked (Y/n) who gives a bow.

"A Fomorian, we’re..Ancient Tyrants from Ireland." (Y/n) explains, "There isn't many of us, Enids the only one who's really been a good friend to me, others are a bit wary. But they’ve come around, once Enid showed them I’m mot much of a real threat, they became much nicer and understanding thanks to her blog I suppose.” (Y/n) explains.

"I know, right? My vlog is, like, the number one source for Nevermore gossip." She explains, "(Y/n) sadly can't see it." Enid huffs.

(Y/n) leans into Wednesday a bit.

"There are some benefits to being blind. But I must ask, if you do murder people, what do you do with the bodies? Do you.. eat them? You might be a Fur."

"Quite the contrary. I actually fillet the bodies of my victims, then feed them to my menagerie of pets." She stares proverbial daggers at (Y/n), who just laughs, almost in disbelief.

"You.. really are different." He said. "Not that it's a bad thing of course."

"You should really get on Insta, Snapchat and TikTok." Enid says to Wednesday.

"I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation." She replies, (Y/n) and Enid share a small glance. "Well, I should get to taking your stuff to your room." (Y/n) says.

"See you adequate enough to not get lost on the way there?" She asked, and he smirks.

"Well, much like you Wednesday..." he says, the Furs begin a food fight and one hurls a peach, flying at him, without even breaking a sweat he catches it. His focus still on Miss Addams.

"I'm very perceptive.."

As (Y/n) and Enid take Wednesdays things to her room, she is forced to say goodbye to her family.

"Look at you, my little deathtrap. Seeing you in this uniform brings back so many terrible memories. Doesn't it, Tish?" Her Father, Gomez. Her illustrious and, profound mother steps up, Morticia.

"Yes. Why don't you boys wait in the car? Wednesday and I need a moment." She said, Pugsley, her less than enthusiastic brother is then approached by Wednesday.

"Pugsley, you're soft and weak. You'll never survive without me. I give you two months, tops." She says, what seems to be nothing but cold insults to some were words of love to him.

"I'm gonna miss you, too, sis." He said, Gomez and pugsley leave, letting Wednesday and Morticia have a solemn stare down.

"Any plans you have of running away end right now. I've alerted all family members to contact me the minute you darken their doorstep. You have nowhere to go."

"As usual, you underestimate me, Mother. I will escape this educational penitentiary, and you will never hear from me again."

The two opposing forces seem so contested. Morticia sighs at her dismayed daughter.

"You are a brilliant girl, Wednesday, but sometimes you get in your own way. I'm sure you'll grow to love Nevermore, and find it as life-changing as I did. Oh, I got you a little something." She continues and hands her an amulet, dark in design.

"W... M. Our initials. It's made of obsidian, which Aztec priests used to conjure visions. It's a symbol of our connection."

"Which one of your spirits suggested this toe-curling tchotchke? I'm not you, Mother. I will never fall in love, or be a housewife, or have a family." Wednesday retorted with scathing remarks, Which Morticia tries not to respond to.

"I'm told girls your age say hurtful things, and I shouldn't take it to heart."

"Fortunately, you don't have one."

"..Finally, a kind word for your mother, We can't talk to you for the first week while you're settling in, so we'll call you next Sunday." She said, giving Wednesday a lovingly look before leaving. What seems to be a "Perfect." Rooming situation has turned into the complete opposite, as Wednesday tore off the colored plastic for the massive circular window within her room, only her side of course, which would have been fine for most people. But Enid isn't, most people.

"What the hell did you do to my room?!" Enid storms into her room after seeing it, which Wednesday calmly turns to her.

"Dividing our room equally. It looks like a rainbow vomited on your side."

"I—"

"Silence would be appreciated. This is my writing time." Wednesday says, sitting at her desk and in front of a vintage typewriter.

"Your writing time?"

"I devote an hour a day to my novel. Perhaps if you did the same, your vlog might be coherent. I've read serial killer diaries with better punctuation."

"I write in my voice. It's my truth. It's what my followers love."

"Your followers are clearly imbeciles. I'm surprised (Y/n) hasn't poured melting wax into his ears by now listening to it, They respond to your stories with insipid little pictures."

"Uh, you mean, emojis? It's how people express their feelings. I realize that's a foreign concept to you." Enid reminds, pretty surprising, they approach each other, standing on the edge of their respective sides of the room.

"When I look at you, the following emojis come to mind. Rope, shovel, hole. By the way, there are two D's in Addams. If you're going to gossip about me, at least spell my name correctly." Wednesday walked back to her typewriter. Enid, in pure spite, Enid plays pop music, just to annoy the more mundane Wednesday. She twists her head around, Owl like.

"Turn that off. This is your final warning." Wednesday approached, but Enids nails elongated into sharp claws.

"Rawr! Don't mess with me. This kitty's got claws, and I'm not afraid to use them." Enid and Wednesday are at a standoff, neither side giving any leeway, before and guts and glamor could be spilled, the door to their room opens. It was a woman, slightly brunette hair with an, oddly normal flair in terms of most teachers.

"Good evening, girls. Oh, sorry about the mud. I wanted to make sure that Wednesday was settling in. Ah. Is this a bad time? I'm Ms. Thornhill, your dorm mom. Apologies, I wasn't here to greet you when you arrived. I trust Enid has given you the old Nevermore welcome." She said, the two girl momentarily halt their fangs.

"She's been smothering me with hospitality. I hope to return the favor...In her sleep." Wednesday said, which Enid eyes her, Thornhill reveals in her arms a plant, which was oddly black, devoid of color, or life.

"Well, here's a little welcome gift from my conservatory. I try to match the right flower to each of my girls. When I read your personal statement in your application, I immediately thought of this one."

"The black dahlia."

"Oh, you know it?"

"Of course. It's named after my favorite unsolved murder. Thank you." Thornhill looks taken aback by it but tries to keep her composure.

"Okey-dokey. Before I leave, I want to go over a few house rules. Lights off at 10:00, no loud music, and no boys, ever."

"What's the story about going into the local town?" Wednesday asked.

"Passes to Jericho are a privilege, not a right. It's a brisk 25-minute walk, or there's a shuttle on the weekends. The locals are a tad bit wary about Nevermore, so please don't go making any waves, or perpetuating any outcast stereotypes. That means keep your claws to yourself, and no smothering people in their sleep. Are we clear? Great talk." Thornhill leaves, letting Enid and Wednesday alone.

Jericho, the City housing Nevermore have a bit of a history, an unfortunate one at that. Wednesday is being taken to her therapist.

"Dr. Kinbott's office is on the second floor. Other Nevermore students swear by her. Perhaps afterwards we can visit the Weathervane for hot chocolate."

"Principal Weems, this feeble attempt at bonding is beneath you. And chauffeuring your students around is below your pay grade." Wednesdays cold and unfeeling attitude made the Principal a bit, unwary.

"Given your history, I'm sure you're intent on running away. I'm here to prevent that from happening. I wish you luck." Weems says, stopping at the Office. Wednesday enters and to the clean, porcelain white room of her new and kind therapist.

"I read the notes from your school counselor. Mrs. Bronstein." She Said.

"She had a nervous breakdown after our last session and had to take a six-month sabbatical."

"Go ahead and take a seat. How did you feel about that?"

"Vindicated. But someone who crochets for a hobby isn't a worthy adversary."

"Adversary? I hope we can forge a relationship based on trust and mutual respect. This is a safe space, Wednesday. A sanctuary where we can discuss anything. What you're thinking, feeling, your views on the world, personal philosophy."

"That's easy. I think that this is a waste of time. I see the world as a place that must be endured, and my personal philosophy is kill or be killed."

"So, for instance, when someone bullies your brother, your response is to dump piranha in the pool?" She asked, and Wednesday looks a bit pleased with herself.

"You know the old saying, "never bring a knife to a sword fight." Unless it's concealed."

"Point is, you assaulted a boy, and showed no remorse for your actions. That's why you're here."

"He lost a testicle. I did the world a favor. People like Dalton shouldn't procreate. I've answered all your questions." Wednesday stands up but is shut down.

"We're not done yet. Therapy is a valuable tool to help you understand yourself. It can teach you new ways to deal with your emotions. It can also help you build a life that you want."

"I know the life that I want."

"Tell me about it. Everything said in these sessions is strictly confidential. Do your plans involve becoming an author? I understand you've written three novels about a teen girl detective, Viper De La Muerte. Can you tell me about her?" She asked, and Wednesday shows a hint of her true feelings.

"Viper is smart, perceptive, chronically misunderstood."

"Any luck getting your work published?"

"Editors are short-sighted, fear-based life forms. One once described my writing as gratuitously morbid, and suggested I seek psychiatric help. Hmm. Ironic, isn't it?"

"How did you take that?"

"I sent her a "thank you."

Wednesday sends her "Thank You", which was full of mouse traps, heavy steel ones that can and will break bones.

"...I've always been open to constructive criticism." She says with her classic mundane expression.

"I'm glad to hear that. Because I was sent the manuscripts as part of your psych evaluation. The relationship I found most intriguing was that of Viper and her mother, Dominica. Why don't we dig into that? Part of this journey requires us going to uncomfortable places emotionally."

"I don't travel well. Would you mind if I use the powder room first?" She asked, The Therapist kindly obliged and Wednesday enters, and quickly begins to come up with a way to leave.

"Wednesday? Is everything okay? You can't hide for the rest of the session."

"I'm all right. Just preparing myself for our uncomfortable journey." She says, and sneaks out of the window. Entering a local coffee shop, she procures a ride to her freedom. As Wednesday sits at a sit in, she looks out the window to the insignificant lives of those in this town. And her eyes focus on a crow, perched on the window still, looking at her.

"Wednesday." A voice said calmly, she turns forward to (Y/n) sitting calmly across from her, she didn't even hear him approach. She looks back at the crow, which disappears.

"So, new in Town?" He says breaking the Ice.

"What do you want?"

"Can't I just say hello? I would say it's nice to see you but alas, I can't."

"For someone who's blind you're annoyingly focused on your surroundings."

"It's a benefit of being a monster, speaking of, I talked to Enid and she said you and her had a "Disagreement." About something." He begins, but Wednesday quickly shuts him down.

"The Glorified Personification of the 21st Century and I have opposing views, she didn't need to send her blind hound after me."

"Enid doesn't know I'm here, most don't know I'm here. I'm not here to fight you, Wednesday."

"Then what is it that you want from me?" She asks.

"I've heard of the things you've done before at your old school, all I ask that you don't hurt Enid. She, means a lot to me." He said, there was a ping from his coat and he pulls his phone out, Siri reads out a message, but Wednesday notices his phone case was pink, handmade with stickers, it's obvious it was made by a person with a much more, Feminine touch. It has the words "Bestie" bedazzled on it.

"Your phone case oozes insecurity and self deprivation." She said, and he turns his head towards her.

"I was a gift from Enid when I first came here, almost dropped my phone and she caught it, told me I should be more careful and, we just started talking. So she made this for me, Heh, always protecting me." He tilts his head up back at Wednesday.

"All I'm asking is that you is to be, well not nice but, just sociable to her, she's not a bad person. And she was really excited about you coming." (Y/n) explains, and Wednesday for a moment hesitates for an answer.

"I'll.. consider your request."

"Thank you—"

"Under one condition... you tell me what you truly are… i doubt your story of who you truly are.” she says. His attitude softens and he sighs, and he places his cane on the table.

"I'm not just a Fomorian, but a cursed one.. you know the Tale of Balor? The War Tyrant who's evil eye cursed whatever it laid its eyes upon, that's.. me. I'm Balor. Just reborn as a human thankfully, but the eyes still linger, but when your eyes can literally cause the destruction of the world, ...Drastic measures have to be taken. And my parents.." he continues, his voice getting a bit, somber.

"They Blinded you." Wednesday says, finishing the story.

"Thus the Tragic tale of Balor of Nevermore.." (Y/n) said, he couldn't see it, but he felt Wednesdays silence somehow, for a girl not lacking an arsenal of insults, she was quiet.

"Your Story...is tragic, they feared your power and tried to shut it down. You kept up your side of the Bargain so I will keep mine. I'll.. try to refrain from harming your Pet." She said, he sighs from her declaration.

"She's not my... whatever; thank you." He says, he turns to face the window.

"Some advice Wednesday, The Normies of Jericho, avoid Em, they don't see you as another human being, they see you as.. a "Freak." He said, while Wednesday couldn't see his eyes, she could feel the anger and spite forming from his words. Soon, the doors open from the Coffee shop to three teenagers, dressed as Pilgrims, they notice the Nevermore students.

"Hey, boys, check it out. Who's that?"

"Bro... Come on."

"What's a Pair of Nevermore freaks doing out in the wild?"

"This is our booth."

"Why are you dressed like religious fanatics?" Wednesday said, much to the Chagrin of the Teens.

"We're pilgrims."

"Potato, po-tah-to." She responds.

"We work at Pilgrim World." One said.

"It takes a special kind of stupid to devote an entire theme park to zealots responsible for mass genocide." She says, they approach Menacingly and (Y/n) stood up and tried to act peacefully.

"Cmon, guys there's no reason for us to act like this, we're just trying to enjoy our evening." (Y/n) said, the three scoff.

"The Freaks trying to weasel his way out of it." One said.

"Yeah, I don't think the Freak can see." Another laughs, and (Y/n) tries to keep his composure; leaning a bit on his Cane.

"Cmon, just leave us—" one, taking it too far sweeps his cane, forcing him to trip. He falls on his hands and knees and they laugh. Wednesday said nothing as they did, but she slowly stood up. Her glare catching the concern of them.

"It's fine.. Wednesday." (Y/n) says calmly, he takes his cane and stands back up, he walks over to the door, and with a swift motion, locks it. He turns to the boys.

".. Call me a Freak... One more time." He says, and they laugh at the blind one.

"Aww, gonna Cry? Call your Mommy? Or; are you gonna get your little creepy girlfriend to beat us up, better luck next Time, Freak." One said, they laughed once more, before the steel of the raven came went tying into his forehead, knocking him out, it's in the air and the other two look, (Y/n) comes running full speed, he jumps into the air, catches it and cracks another in the face, one begins to swing at him but he, with almost instinct, dodges and ducks each punch, before stomping on his foot, making him leap on one, he gut checks him with the steel end of the cane, he fails to one knee, gasping for air, he cocks back and swings, knocking him out as well. The three bodies lie on the ground, he adjusts his suit and uniform and walks to the door and unlocks it.

"Now, try and behave." He said, before the Sheriff, a gruffly man perhaps in his late 50s to early 60s.

"Tyler, the hell's going on in here?" He asked, turning his attention to the young man tending to the counter.

"They were harassing a customer, and he put them in their place." He said, the Sherrif looks to the young blind boy.

"This blind kid took down three boys? Did you help him?"

"Dad, I swear, I wasn't involved." Tyler says, and Weems enters as well; and looks Surprised to see (Y/n) and Wednesday.

"Apologies, Sheriff. These two slipped away from me. Come on, Mister Healy, Miss Addams, time to go." She says and the two begin to leave, before the Sheriff stops them.

"Wait a minute, hang on. You're an Addams? Don't tell me Gomez Addams is your father? That man belongs behind bars for murder. Hm...I'm gonna keep my eye on you." he says to them, and with those puzzling words, they leave, and Weems is more than miffed at them.

"Your first day and you're already on Sheriff Galpin's radar. Wish I could say I was surprised, and sneaking out of ground Mister Healy?"

"I caught the wrong shuttle; I apologize.. Wednesday found me and brought me to the cafe before we were accosted by those men." He said covering for her. "How kind of her." Weems said, somewhat buying the plausible explanation.

"What did he mean about my father?" Wednesday said.

"I have no idea, but a word of advice. Stop making enemies and start making a few friends. You're going to need them." Weems replies, their drive continues down to Nevermore, but slowly passing a car crash, a horrid one at that.

"Looks like an accident. I hope the driver's okay"

"He's dead. Broke his neck." Wednesday said, looking at the body. It's off How she could tell from the angle she had.

Night Falls upon Nevermore and while many of its students revel in the Darkness, some prefer to stay indoors with said activities. Such is Wednesday, who's haunting Cello tunes echo all throughout Nevermore, it especially reached the Ears of (Y/n), who stood at his rooms window, listening to the elegant but haunting tunes, and he had to get in closer. With a tap of his Cane, a crow bellows to his aid, he whispers into its ear and it flies off to the unknown. Wednesday ends her performance, and talks to someone.

"No, I don't really feel better. There's just something wrong about this place. Not just because it's a school." She says, and the taps of wood are heard, and Wednesday looks at the standing holding the music notes to a dismembered Hand, which was sown together. It somehow was, alive. Enid enters the Balcony as well.

"How the hell did you get that oversized violin out the window?" She asked and Wednesday turns towards her.

"I had an extra hand." She said deadpanned, and shows Thing.

"Whoa. Where's the rest of him?" She asks.

"It's one of the great Addams family mysteries." Wednesday said, and she hears the baying and howling of Werewolves in Nevermore.

"Why aren't you wolfing out?" Wednesday asks enid

"Because I can't." She says, she shows her growing finger nails, "It's all I got. My mom says some wolves are late bloomers, but I've been to the best Lycanologist. I had to fly to Milwaukee, would you believe it? Yeah, she says there's a chance I may never... you know."

"What happens then?"

"I'd become a lone wolf."

"Sounds perfect."

"Are you kidding me? My life would be officially over. I'd be kicked out of my family pack with no prospect of finding a mate." Enid says, holding back tears, Wednesdays looks off the balcony as well, seeing (Y/n) cleaning out a large bird cage.

"I doubt that, one mate would be walking into walls at the moment, I'm failing to see the problem here."

"I could die alone." Enid says.

"We all die alone, Enid."

"You really suck at this. Cheering people up." Enid says and cries, not able to hold it back.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because I'm upset! Haven't you ever cried, or are you above that too?" Enid said obviously upset.

"It was the week after Halloween. I was six years old. I took my pet scorpion, Nero, out for his afternoon stroll, and we were ambushed. They wondered what kind of freak would have a scorpion for a pet. Two of them held me down and made me watch...while the others ran Nero over until... It was snowing when I buried what was left of him. I cried my little black heart out. But tears don't fix anything. So I vowed to never do it again. " Wednesday explains her story, and Enid, now seeing that she isn't some cold machine, feels for her.

"Your secret's safe with me. Still think you're weird as shit, though."

"The feeling is incredibly mutual. How would you like your single room back? You just need to show me how to use your computer." Wednesday said, which confuses Enid.

"Okay?.." she says and leads her in, after some basic instruction on "How To Internet." Wednesday is able to pull on a web chat with someone; the guy who ram the cafe, Tyler.

"Uh... hi."

"That's Thing. Is he, like, your pet? Look, I know Nevermore is ground zero for all things weird, but this is next-level. So, what happened to not wanting to be a slave to technology?"

"Desperate times. Are you still willing to help me escape?"

"After what happened today, I figured they'd have you in solitary."

"There's the Harvest Festival this weekend. Attendance is mandatory. I'm going to use it as a cover. If you're willing to drive me to the station, I can make it worth your while." Wednesday said, and Tyler obliges.

"I'm in. And no charge. Consider it a freebie."

"Why? "

"Cause I wish I was going with you. At least one of us will get out of this hellhole town."

The First day of the Weekend begins with the Harvest Festival, a crowning achievement for Jericho and their very urban and more down to earth festival of carnival and games. Wednesday and Enid stand before each other, watching Tyler argue with his father.

"Are you sure you can trust that normie?"

"I trust that I can handle myself. I don't want you talking to her."

"Well, good luck and safe travels." Enid offers a hug, much to the chagrin of Wednesday. "Still not a hugger." Enid walks away, leaving Wednesday to escape, but as she turns around, a crow watches from a building, and (Y/n) sits calmly on a bench, drinking a soda. And Wednesday can tell.

"The Fool is following me, fortunately he makes it easy to point out." She says and they walk off. He stands up to follow but with all the sounds, his hearing cannot focus and he must console them eyes of another, but even then, it's not enough to go on, he halts as he gets a hint, Wednesday breaks off from Tyler and chase someone into the forest. He begrudgingly attempts to give chase, listening to the sounds and impacts, what caught him off guard were the horrid screams of death and despair, he picks up the speed.

"Wednesday?! Wednesday!" He yells, he halts as he feels himself nearby something, he slams his cane against a tree and like a sonar, it brings it all to a picture, and more importantly the corpse lying on the ground and Wednesday nearby.

"... Wednesday.. what the Hell Happened?" He asked, she takes something and walks over to him.

"We don't have much time, and I'd rather discuss this without a corpse nearby, as much as that upsets me." She says, and the Boy sadly agrees, on the balcony of her dorm room, he gets most information.

"A monster? That killed Rowan? But there aren't any in Nevermore I can think of, but why was Rowan attacking you? How does this all connect?" He asks pacing around.

"I will need to do some investigating on my own, I can assume you and I share a common goal now. You wish to keep your Pet safe. And I want to understand why I am tied into this all." Wednesday explains, (Y/n) stops and turns to her.

"Again, not my Pet, and her safety is important to me, just as much as yours Wednesday."

"I can take care of myself."

"Obviously... I Never Said you couldn't, but it's never wrong to have someone who wants to help you." (Y/n) says. "I'll help because you're in danger, and I don't want my friends in danger.

"We're Not Friends."

"Not yet.. so, what all has happened?" (Y/n) asks.

"Let's see. I narrowly avoided death twice, discovered that my father may be a murderer, learned that I could potentially destroy the school, and was mysteriously saved by a homicidal monster. As much as it pains me to admit, mother was right."

"Right about what?" (Y/n) asks, and Wednesday responds.

"This school. I think I'm going to love it here." She says and has the smallest smirk on her face.

#wednesday addams x male reader #netflix #male reader #blindness #enid sinclair #wedensday x you #Wednesday #Wednesday x Reader #reader insert

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pixeechix21 · 6 months

Text

Forget the past

Oneshot Königxfem!reader

You need a rebound, and he wants to help you.

TW: smut, smutty, alcohol, praise kink (just for you girly lmao), p in v, vulgar language, marking people’s bodies, aftercare, kinda sweet&vanila if I do say so myself.

Please, please on my knees begging you for best results read with Hotel(Montel Fish), or If you think I'm pretty (Artemas)

WC:1728

Waffles:

“You need to take your mind off of that dick, and you know focus on some other type of dick, y/n,” Evlyn teases handing you two drinks. The bar is crowded and you seriously don’t want to be here, where the floor is sticking to your heels and there’s a pungent smell of alcohol. Your break was so fresh, and there’s something wrong with you, you think how can I be so happy aren’t I meant to cry or something? Truly there’s something cathartic about not having to deal with him and his mommy issues anymore.

“I mean they’re sexy,” she catches the eyes of a large group of very tall, built men. One of them smiles back and turns to share with the group.

“Mmm yeah they’re… cute, but i need someone more… I don’t know, just not that,” you turn back to stare at them. You’re lying through your teeth, they are hot like worth going through hell hot. One of them says something boisterously and the rest of the group laugh. Leaning on the wall the brown haired one chuckles quietly. Your eyes track his wide shoulders and his hands. As you take your eyes off of his body you catch his eyes. Or more like he catches you. He picks up an eyebrow biting down on his lips to contain his smile. You go bright red and the second you see him walking over with the others you spin around and whisper shout. “Abort. Abort. The very sexy men are coming, abor-”

“Who might the very sexy men be?” They circle your standing table.

“Uhhh.” you say stupidly.

“We meant you all,” Evlyn says flirtatiously towards the blond one. “Evlyn and this is y/n,” you ignore them and keep in contact with his blue eyes.

“Beautiful name y/n,” he smiles sweetly.

“That reminds me of my grandmother, her name was very similar, or maybe not. To be honest I forgot so I just called her Nan,” the shaved haired one says pensively.

“Shut up Soap,” one laughs, slapping him on the back and steers them away. “Good night ladies, next round is one us,” the majority of the group disperses and Evlyn is chatting up the blond one. But he remains.

“Please don’t tell me my name actually sounds like your grandpa’s name, I can’t handle that and my break-” you pause blushing. Evlyn warned you not to go babbling about it and you broke the rule.

“Ha! no no. I was just thinking you look beautiful,” you see a small blush rising to his cheeks. Awww, you think sweetly. The complete opposite of what those big arms make you think. “König,” he held out his hand.

“Nice to meet you king,” you take his hand. The warmth outcompetes the fuzz from the alcohol. He looks surprised, at you knowing what it means.

“So what do you do?” You ask awkwardly.

“Let’s say it's teaching the bad guys of the world a lesson.”

“Sounds very dangerous,” you tease.

“Yes one could say it is,” he nodded affirmingly. “You?”

“Uuuh not as cool I’m a chef,” standing there you forget what the fuck you say when talking ot people. You suddenly remember the untouched shots, and grab them then hand one to him. He frowns questioningly. “Come on let's celebrate,” you urge, smiling. Letting go of your triring thoughts.

“Okay, what to?” He looks questioningly at you, amused at your thought processes.

“Dicks.” You tap the shot to the table, shoot the jager back and shake your head vigorously. You laugh at the comical look of shock on his face. “Follow me König,” you grab his wrist and squeeze into the middle of the crowd. You start dancing, shaking your ass to the music. You look up to see him with his arms crossed and looking around anxiously. “Dance!”

“I’m okay, thank you for the offer,” he leans down to your ears so that you can hear him better.

“Please! I need my mind taken off of the past,” you plead your case. With that he loosens his arms and you turn around dancing with him. He seems as if he doesn’t know what to do, for a second. Then he grabs your hips tightly and holds you to him, tilting his head down inhaling your perfume in. Your hands snake up over his hair, holding him close. You face him, faces inches away you can see the depths of his eyes. You lick your lips just as the heat drops to your core. His hand comes across your waist and keeps you close, enclosing you in his body. Slowly you lean into him, feeling the pull like an irresistible magnet. He gulps and you kiss. At first it’s soft, delicate, but then as he pulls away you pull lightly on his bottom lip with your teeth.

His eyes are hooded with lust and you know that yours are too. “Better?” He says close to your ear.

“Just a little more,” you kiss him again and this time it is deep and harsh, trying to steal each other's breaths. Abruptly breaking apart he drags you out of the bar and calls for his car to pull round.

His truck comes and you climb in. You frantically text Evlyn to tell her you’re good. The windows are all down and your hair is flying everywhere. Your skirt flies up and you try to cover it up as you see him side eye you. No fuck it. You think rebelliously, I’m going to fuck this guy and it’s decided. You slowly shimmy down your panties and throw them to the back. His knuckles go white from how hard he’s holding onto the steering wheel. You move your hand over your clit and start panting as you build yourself up, in front of him. He shifts trying to hide his growing hardness. A raspy sigh comes out of you. You open your legs wider so that he can see you better.

“Fuck," he breathes out not being able to remove his eyes from you. You take one of his hands and bring it to your pussy. He groans as you guide him, you sink into the car seat in satisfaction. The engine stops. "Come here," he lifts you effortlessly, placing you on his lap, with his cock in-between your legs. He kisses you like a famished man, forcing you to forget everything. He eats up your moans as you grind into him reaching for more. His finger painfully digs into your ass.

You yelp loudly as you both jolt backwards. He laughs as you place a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "It's just the car seat recliner darling," you laugh too. He starts kissing your neck and taking off your clothes. Gripping his hair you remove his lips from you, you open the door and get out. Naked in heels you beckon him to follow you. For a 6 '10 he looks like a puppy stepping out of the truck and following you. His arms wrap sweetly around you, whilst kissing him your hand works on his pants. There’s a desperacy in your movements, that if you don’t do it now with all you’ve got you’d lose the ability. As you spread the pre-cum making him slick ready for you. He holds himself tight trying not to lose it, as you tease him. The look on his face, the neediness, the want to make you his knees weak. He hooks the back of your legs and you straddle him. He feels unbearably large as he positions himself in your entrance. You inhale deeply bracing from him as you enter you. Your nails claw into his tattooed shoulders, knowing it's going to mark. He doesn’t mind, he embraces the pain.

Watching you as you struggle to stretch around him. “You’re so tight,” he gasps looking down. “You’re taking it so good, breathe for me,” he encourages as you sink all the way down. You feel his arms flex as he lifts you back, taunting you as he drags himself out. “Just like that good girl,” he starts picking up the pace. Your tits bounce in his face and he bites one harshly, making you hold onto him more. You throw your head back and feel the euphoria wash over you. “Fuck me König yes,” you moan hold his head to your tits as he bites and marks you all over.

His dick throbs in you, as he pumps in and out of you. “When you say it like that you make me feel like a king,” he breathes out, colliding with your lips. Stealing any oxygen as he thrust faster and harder into you. “Hold onto me,” he sits you down on the hood of his truck. You lay down feeling the warm engine tingle your skin. Both his arms on either side of you, you can’t see any cars driving by on the main road. You keep hold of him, as he fucks you. Like fucks you so hard you start seeing fireworks. “I’m going to-”

He works at your clit as he continues to absolutely obliterate you. “Come for me y/n.” You clench around him, as your body explodes with what your ex was never able to give to you. “Good girl just like that,” he praises and you feel it coming again. It does even more than the first as you shake uncontrollably. "Let me show you, your future." He steadines your hips and slams into you. One. two. Three. Four times with all the strength he has. You get off on the vision of him losing all control over you, as he too comes to his orgasm. Gently he kisses your forehead. “Have you forgotten?”

Caught off guard you ask, “What?”

“I’ll take that as the greatest compliment, here take this,” he hands you a sweater from his truck.

“Thank you,” you say not only for the sweater but for making you feel the confidence you’d lost a long time ago.

“Waffles?”

“Yes please,” you smile and you both drive off.

#smut #konig #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig x reader #fem!reader #cod x reader #cod smut #cod könig #cod konig #x reader #halloween #konig fanfiction #konig fluff #call of duty

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drawlfoy · 2 years

Text

pink in the night p.4 - FINALE!

masterlist

series masterlist

pairing: hufflepuffmuggleborn!reader x draco

summary: when y/n y/l/n starts having weird, recurring dreams about her long time unrequited crush in her 6th year, she begins to wonder where fantasies end and reality begins.

(based on a request from anon asking for a fic about a hufflepuff reader, who had been average in hogwarts before she had a big glow up. i took many, many creative liberties with the plot, as you can clearly see in the summary).

warnings: mentions of sex, implied sex, violence, mild gore, explicit language, mentions of drug use (if u squint ig)

a/n: remember when i said i was splitting this into two parts? nvm! this is the whole finale! please heed the warnings on this one!

wc: 12.6k

playlist

The fork Y/N had been holding made a dull clank when it hit her plate. Thankfully—was it?—Draco hadn’t even looked her direction since Pansy had sat next to him,

Her mouth felt fuzzy, but she picked up her fork, speared a potato, and began to eat.

The first night was the worst. Y/N broke down in her dorm bed as Susan hugged her fiercely and promised her that it would get better.

“I feel so fucking stupid,” she gasped, swiping the tears away with the heels of her palms. “I knew it was hopeless. I knew this would happen.”

“It’s okay,” soothed Susan, smoothing her hair away from her face. “It’s okay to be upset. Love makes us all fools.”

“I never loved him,” said Y/N sourly, her voice cracking.

Susan shrugged. “It’s just a saying. But it doesn’t matter whether you loved him or not. What matters is that you cared for him and he didn’t treat you the way you deserved. It was inevitable that he was going to see other people, sure, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t be hurt. It’s good that you feel hurt. It means that you have it in you to care for someone blindly.”

“For the last time!” added Y/N. She blew her nose loudly.

“Hopefully not,” said Susan, her eyes crinkling in amusement. “That’s what romance is—that’s what makes it so fun. It would be boring if you knew everyone you dated was perfect. Then you wouldn’t know the right person when he comes.”

“I think we both need therapy, Susan.” Y/N’s sobs had since settled. Now she just wanted to sleep. “That sounds a bit masochistic.”

“We can discuss mental health professionals after you get some rest,” Susan decided, grabbing Y/N’s comforter and pushing her into her nest of pillows. “The first night is always the worst. I know it feels like the end of the world now, but the sun will shine tomorrow. You’ll see.”

And so it did. The sun rose, set, and gently stroked her cheeks as she walked between classes. She went to dueling practice, hung out with her friends, and studied in the library. January swallowed her and spat her out in the middle of February before she knew it.

On the 13th of the month, Y/N sat at the Ravenclaw table for lunch with Terry, as she so often did now when Susan went into Hogsmeade with Theo for the day.

“Any plans for Valentine’s Day?” asked Terry..

“No, none!” she chirped. “What about you?”

Terry grimaced. “Well, after what happened with Cho…not much.”

“I’m sorry,” said Y/N sympathetically. Terry and Cho had been together since November. Terry had really liked her, too, but Cho had broken things off after they had returned from break, saying that she still had things to work through and couldn’t handle another relationship. She supposed she understood. She couldn’t even imagine the heartbreak of seeing a partner pass away. “Is there something you’d like to do?”

“Platonic Valentine’s date?” asked Terry, wiggling his fingers at her. “I’ll buy you sugar quills and let you beat me at Exploding Snap.”

“Only if we play Exploding Snap at Madame Puddifoot’s.”

“They’re going to kick us out if we do that.”

“That’s part of the fun!” Y/N was already grinning ear to ear. “I’m in.”

24 hours later, they were staring at each other across the tiny table. Madame Puddifoot herself had set out plates of fine china cups, filled to the brim with steaming pink and gold tea that smelled of roses. Terry and Y/N had taken one look at them and shoved them aside.

“You deal,” said Y/N, tossing her deck to him. He caught it before it managed to sail over his shoulder and hit Susan and Theo, sitting in the booth behind them.

“You guys,” Susan groaned, peering over her date’s shoulder. “Please don’t. This is a public establishment.”

The cards crackled as Terry split the deck, shuffling them once in an elegant swoosh. “Bavarian version?”

“Only if you think you can handle it.” Y/N smirked, watching as he quickly arranged the deck into a circular formation.

“First to get 7 pairs wins,” said Terry. “And if we tie, the winner is the one covered in the least soot.”

“Why not 11 pairs?”

“Because Puddifoot is looking at us weird.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just start!”

Just like that, they were off. Y/N had gotten 3 pairs in quick succession, only blowing up one card—the Manticore card.

“Bloody hell, Y/N,” Terry mumbled as they scrambled to turn the cards over and collect pairs before the entire desk combusted. “3 already?”

“You have 5,” said Y/N through gritted teeth, not even bothering to look at him as her nails scraped against the table. She flipped over another card—a Manticore.

“Fuck,” she mumbled. She’d exploded the last one. Now that it was destroyed, there was no way this one wasn’t going to blow too. She abandoned it in search of other pairs.

“Excuse me,” said a very stern, angry voice.

Y/N looked up, but not before the Manticore card went up in flames with a violent crack.

“This is highly inappropriate behavior,” said Madame Puddifoot, scowling down at them through her spectacles. “If you’ve not already noticed, today is a very special day to those of us enjoying the fruits of love and passion. No tomfoolery such as this is allowed. Out! Both of you!”

“You don’t understand,” simpered Y/N, blinking up through her lashes. In a last minute decision, she darted forward, taking Terry’s hand in hers. “This is our 1 month anniversary, He asked me out with Exploding Snap. It's very sentimental to us, you see. But I suppose if we aren’t welcome here we can leave.” She coaxed her lips into a pout. “Maybe the Three Broomsticks will be okay with us celebrating. We were just so excited to finally come here as a couple.”

Madame Puddifoot’s face contorted as she thought, her long nose wrinkling. Finally, she stepped back and nodded once. “Well, alright. I’ve forgotten the beauty of young love. It turns anything into an occasion. You’ll have to forgive me.”

“I understand,” said Y/N, sniffling for good measure. “Thank you, thank you!”

Susan caught her gaze. Her jaw was dropped. Once Y/N was sure Madame Puddifoot had walked far enough away that she wouldn’t notice, she sent her best friend a wink and let go of Terry’s hand.

“That was horrifying,” said Terry gravely. “Don’t ever fake cry again. It’s so…Slytherin of you.”

“And it kept us from getting kicked out, didn’t it? Also, I win.”

True to her word, they had both made 6 pairs, though Terry’s pale blue shirt was smudged with ash.

“Only because I let you.”

“Uh huh.”

Susan was still trying to catch her eye. Y/N frowned, mouthing a “what?” in her direction. In response, her roommate lifted her chin, looking pointedly at the space behind Y/N.

Slowly, Y/N eased around in her seat so she could peek over her shoulder. When her eyes met Draco’s, she whipped back around.

“Another round?” she squeaked at Terry, shoving her pairs in his direction. Draco was there with Pansy—surprise—but had been glaring at Y/N intensely.

“I dunno,” said Terry. “I feel like we’ve pushed our luck enough. Want to head back?”

“Sure,” said Y/N, secretly relieved to be given an out. Now that she knew that Draco could see and hear everything she did, she felt stiff and uncomfortable under the weight of his eyes. “Rematch in the common room?”

Y/N didn’t see Draco much outside of class anymore. Not like she had ever seen him much to begin with—but the occasional tapestry and side corridor episodes they’d shared over the last month of fall term constituted as extracurricular events to her. But now that he was apparently Pansy’s very committed and loving boyfriend, he was nowhere to be seen when he wasn’t sitting across the room in Potions.

It was stupid, but she missed him sometimes. If anything, she missed getting to bitch at someone who had next to zero moral compass when it came to talking shit. In her dreams, when they weren’t shagging and she wasn’t waxing romantic, they would gossip. It wasn’t as though Y/N was particularly nasty, but Hufflepuff house was just too clean cut sometimes. It was nice to really complain about the way that Harry Potter and his friends consistently disrupted the school year to someone who had no interest in pretending to be morally spotless.

She also missed getting to kiss him and lay in his arms, too, but it would’ve been easier to forget all about him if it had been purely physical attraction like it’d started as. Now she actually knew him, and even worse, she liked what she knew about him. Disregarding the whole Death Eater thing—of course—but beggars can’t be choosers, and Y/N would’ve been ready to get on her knees and grovel if it meant going back in time and enjoying it all one last time.

And now Pansy got to enjoy every good thing that Y/N had seen during their time together. And Pansy had gotten to do it in this dimension! Life wasn’t fair.

The Monday after Valentine’s Day was strange. Y/N made a conscious effort to not look at Draco, but it was hard when he was so obviously staring at her from his seat on the other side of the room. When she finally dared to meet his eyes, he wrenched his own gaze away, staring at the table instead.

Once class ended, she thought about catching up with him to ask him what his deal was, but he was gone before she even finished packing her satchel. It was unnerving, really, the way he’d been looking at her.

Her mind was still preoccupied when Professor Trelawney addressed the class.

“Good morning, students,” she greeted, looking rather solemn. “I come with some…rather disappointing news. I trust each and every one of you, which is why it saddens me that one of you saw fit to break into the classroom last weekend and steal equipment.”

Y/N shared a wide-eyed glance with Terry, raising her eyebrows and pursing her lips dramatically.

“If you are in possession of an illegally required crystal ball,” said Trelawney, looking nearly close to tears, “Please return it as soon as possible. Many bad, bad things can happen if you use these special tools without proper supervision! Children, please heed my warning. The pupil who stole this will face great struggle should they choose to not come forward.”

Terry wiggled his brows back at her, but Y/N was feeling a little suspicious. Crystal ball? Wait a damn minute…

By the time dueling practice rolled around, she had largely forgotten about the whole ordeal. Y/N had been paired up with McLaggen, easily the most ruthless dueler on their team, and he was giving her enough to think about as she scrambled to defend herself in the dueling circle.

The classroom they practiced in was large, airy, and school gymnasium-like. The dueling circle was lined with mats and warded at the border to ensure that rogue spells didn’t attack the audience. Whenever Y/N hit the faded red mats (which happened a lot when she was up against McLaggen), she found that they smelled like salt and chalk.

Her wand was almost buzzing in her hand as she stalked along the perimeter of the circle, waiting for her opponent to retaliate. She’d somehow managed to get him good with a well aimed Jelly Legs jinx, but now that he’d recovered before she managed to disarm him, he was clearly miffed and ready for revenge.

“Watch your feet, Y/L/N,” called Professor Flitwick from the sidelines. Surprisingly, the Ravenclaw house Head was a marvelous and enthusiastic dueling coach. She accredited much of her improvement to his teaching. “He’s going to go for your feet unless you can extend your shield to the ground.”

Y/N frowned, deeply concentrating on the shield she had just raised with her wand. Sure enough, the pale blue shimmering air paused at her ankles. If he managed to make the mark, McLaggen would have no problem bringing her to the ground and disarming her.

If she recast it now, he would no doubt take the opportunity to strike her, but taking the time to wait for the right moment meant leaving her feet undefended. Though it would be tough to strike her under her shield, McLaggen was renowned for his perfect aim. She was on borrowed time.

So that settled it, then. She would make the first attack.

The room was completely silent now except for the slow thump of her steps and the rhythm of her exhales. McLaggen’s large, looming frame rotated in time with her movements, keeping his wand raised at the ready.

He wouldn’t expect her to be on the offense. It was unusual for the weaker, younger dueler to forgo a shield in order to lay on another hex in standoffs. This could work to her advantage, she realized. McLaggen would be ready to attack her when she removed the shield spell. But that would mean his own guard would be down. If she could non-verbally cast an attack…

Y/N walked another quarter of the circle, feeling magic gather at her wand hand, thrumming under her fingertips. McLaggen was smirking as he cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders.

Flipendo, Flipendo, Flipendo. Y/N shouted the words in her head, building up the strength to silently send it his way. One, two….three…

A crackling green ball burst from the tip of her wand at the moment she ended the shield spell and thrust her hand forward. McLaggen hadn’t even opened his mouth to speak the incantations of his hex before he was launched high in the air, crashing into the mats outside of the dueling lines.

“Absolutely marvelous use of non-verbal spellwork,” said Flitwick approvingly, giving her a very firm nod. “Spectacular. Well done.”

“Yeah, Y/N,” said Justin, creeping forward from the crowd of onlookers. “That was incredible. You just wiped the floor with him.”

Y/N grinned back at him before striding over to McLaggen and offering her hand. “I can’t believe I finally managed to best you.”

“Just barely.” He groaned as he rolled onto his back and let her help pull him to his feet. “Next time I’ll get you back.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

The floor was springy under her feet as she slowly stalked the outer rim of the dueling circle, her wand clutched tightly in her fingers. It was darker than the usual lighting they used for dueling practice, and Y/N had no clue how she’d ended up back in the circle.

That is, until she saw the bright blond head of hair at the opposite end. Then it all made sense.

“Hi,” Draco said. He wasn’t walking like she was. Instead, he was standing with his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked awkward.

“So it was you,” said Y/N, finally stopping her steps. “You stole the crystal ball from Trelawney.”

“She’s already noticed?”

“Unfortunately.” She rolled her wand between her fingers, letting the ridges of the handle pull across the pads of her fingertips. “Why’d you steal it? Is it for your task?”

It was a cruel reminder. He paled and shifted his weight. “No, actually.”

“Oh,” said Y/N. For one glorious moment, she forgot all about Pansy, entertaining the idea that Draco broke the crystal ball to confess his love and devotion for her. But then she remembered the way she had seen him bend down and kiss her forehead from across the Great Hall that morning, and reality settled into her stomach like a cold medicine ball. “Was this—” She motioned to the air between them “—an accident?”

“No,” Draco said, swallowing hard.

Anger rose in her chest when he didn’t elaborate. He had left her in December thinking that he was going to die. He had left her letting her believe he cared for her. And then he came back, dating Pansy Parkinson out of every other person available.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” she said, stiffly.

“Thank you.”

Y/N twirled her wand around her fingers once, twice, watching as the cherry red of the wood flashed around her nails.

“Dueling club, huh?” prompted Draco. It was stupid, really, how he was trying to make casual conversation after everything that had happened. After everything he’d done.

“Why are you here?” she asked finally, scowling.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it?”

She stared at him, her mouth momentarily agape. “Yes, of course that’s it. If you’ll recall, you snogged me in a dark corridor, made me spend the entire break thinking that you were either dead or dying, and then proceeded to enter a very public relationship with the only person with which I’ve ever had a physical altercation. Do you seriously expect me to just forgive you like that?”

“Says the person who started dating the only person I specifically asked you not to go out with!” said Draco. He remained standing still, but his fingers were drumming along the length of his wand.

“Terry?!”

“Don’t play dumb,” he snapped. “I was there at Puddifoot’s, you know. I saw you two together. And you always sit together at lunch.”

She supposed she could tell him that she wasn't actually dating him, but she was furious, and his jaw seemed to clench the more he thought about her and Terry. “That doesn’t change anything. Like I said, I don’t do everything just become you tell me to.”

Suddenly it hit her.

“I know why you’re here now,” she said, sounding smaller. His silver eyes snapped up from his hands to meet hers, his brow raised. “You think that because I’m rolling back on my word with Terry, I’m going to stop protecting your secret, too.”

“Well, that’s—”

“How many times do I need to tell you, Malfoy?” Her voice was sharp, her consonants punctuated. It echoed. “Give me a fucking break. I’m not stupid. I know that some promises are more important than others. I’ve told you, time and time again, that I will. Not. Tell. So stop bugging me and—” She paused to look down at her body, seeing that she was once again in her Slytherin party dress, sans tights. “—and stop fucking fantasizing about me without my tights! That’s lewd and disgusting. Imagine how your girlfriend would feel knowing that thoughts like those are rattling around up there in that vacant brain of yours. Honestly! You’re depraved.”

Draco’s eyebrows were nearly touching his hairline, his jaw slack before he regained his composure. “You’re really going to start calling me Malfoy now? After everything?”

“Yes,” spat Y/N. “Now get out of my dream. Finite Incantatem!”

A flash of blue light sprung from her wand, puncturing Draco’s middle. Then he was gone, and Y/N was all alone in the abandoned dueling room.

The next morning, the news of Katie Bell’s return broke in the Great Hall. Y/N and Susan had left late due to Y/N being in a particularly rotten mood. Susan, to her credit, had stayed behind and listened to Y/N rant about how Draco had been the one to steal the crystal ball Trelawney had lectured their class about. Naturally, Y/N had twisted the details, omitting the bits where Draco was technically an enemy of the state. Her roommate shared her malaise nonetheless.

“I can’t believe him,” she had said, shaking her head. “What a twat. I’m glad you stood up for yourself. That must’ve been hard.”

One short, embarrassing sob session in their bathroom later, Y/N was fresh faced and ready to walk down to the Great Hall. The entire student body was buzzing as they pushed open the heavy doors.

“What’s going on?” asked Y/N as they settled down next to Hannah.

“I was wondering where you guys were,” replied Hannah. Her spoon clinked against her mug of steaming coffee as she stirred in swirls of cream. “You missed it. Remember Katie Bell, that 7th year Gryffindor who had been cursed?”

Susan and Y/N nodded.

“She’s back,” Justin cut in, for once looking excited. “She’s alright.”

“That’s great!” For the first time that day, her lips turned into a genuine smile. Katie Bell had been at the first Dueling Club practice she had attended and had been an angel, helping her walk through the motions and shake off the nervousness of being one of the only female students there. “Is she coming back to team practices, then?”

“She’s missing the tournament this weekend,” Justin said. “But I think she’s coming tomorrow night.”

Y/N bobbed her head, her newly discovered excitement wavering in the face of the upcoming weekend. Beauxbatons was hosting the annual Pygmy Invitational Dueling Tournament, and Y/N was finally competing. There were no divisions—she was just as likely to be against someone as renowned as Hristo Krum, Viktor Krum’s younger brother as she was a weaker, more novice dueler. She’d managed to put off thinking about it, planning on not letting it sink in until she was actually there—or, preferably, never—but she was already failing.

“Hey,” said Justin, reaching out to touch her elbow in a brief, perhaps not entirely platonic gesture. “You’ll do great.”

“Are you coming?” she found herself asking. Even though Justin had a knack for getting on her nerves on occasion, he was growing on her.

Justin flushed, setting his gaze on his plate. The precision in which he was slicing up the breakfast potatoes impressed her. “If you’d like me to. Do you think they’d let me?”

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t.” The only struggle would be finding a way to transport another student to France, but considering how wealthy the Finch-Fletch’s were, he could probably come across a Portkey some way or another.

Y/N finished up the rest of her breakfast, engaging in light conversation with her friends. Out of habit, she cast her gaze over to the Slytherin table, searching for a head of startlingly light hair amongst the sea of forest green. Draco wasn’t there. She berated herself for looking in the first place. What did it matter if he was there?

Her muted curiosity morphed into full-fledged concern when, by Thursday morning, she had yet to see Draco at all. He no longer showed up during meals, leaving Pansy to eat alone with a rather harrowed look on her face. He was nowhere to be seen in corridors between classes with his Slytherin friends, which she supposed made sense as he hadn’t shown up for class since Monday. And, of course, since she hadn’t seen him in person, he never appeared in her dreams.

When Y/N brought it up to Susan on her way to Divination, her friend had no idea.

“Theo hasn’t said anything to me,” she admitted. The heels of her loafers made satisfying clicks on the cobblestone as they walked. “We don’t really talk much about Draco when I see him, though. I can ask?”

“No, no, that’s okay,” said Y/N hurriedly. “No need. I’m still mad at him, anyway. I shouldn’t even be talking about him.”

“Smart! I’ve always heard that pretending that someone is actually dead is a good way to get over them.”

“Haha. Maybe I’ll try that.” She said this in a deceptively casual tone, and her blood ran cold. What if something truly awful had happened to him? Even if he was a right arse, he didn’t deserve to die.

Nausea built in her throat as she sat through the day’s Divination lecture. All she wanted was for her free period to begin so she could curl up in her dorm bed and nap. She’d barely slept since she’d dreamt of Draco on Monday.

She was just on the way towards the common room when Madame Pomfrey appeared around the corner, walking towards her with a purpose. Y/N was suddenly queasy. Could Madame Pomfrey tell if she was having her dreams again? Would she accuse her of stealing from Trelawney?

“Miss Y/L/N,” she said, her heavy footsteps coming to a halt in front of her. “You need to come with me.”

Her tone betrayed nothing. She spoke with her usual no-nonsense voice, but she at least didn’t look angry—just stoney faced.

“Er—well—alright then,” Y/N stammered. So much for her napping plans. She followed the healer down the corridor, up the stairs, and through the wide doors of the hospital wing. This was it. She was going to be blamed for Draco’s theft, and she was going to get expelled. Well, maybe not that. Trelawney would just look at her in class with a deeply hurt expression, like she had personally betrayed her professor. And, although Y/N was never particularly attuned to Divination, the sadness she’d see in one of her mentors’ eyes would be almost worse.

The hospital wing was remarkably quiet. Their footsteps echoed as they walked past the white beds, all empty except for one at the end, the furthest from the door. That one was obscured entirely from view by crisp white curtains, sparking a morbid interest in Y/N. Unless someone was seriously injured or were changing, curtains were rarely used.

To her surprise, Madame Pomfrey didn’t lead her through the beaded entrance at the end to her office for a serious talking-to. Instead, she motioned towards the curtains.

“You have a visitor,” said the healer, ignoring Y/N entirely and poking her head through the curtain.

She was too far away to hear whatever the patient whispered back.

“It’s the girl you’ve been moaning about,” added Madame Pomfrey, rather snippily for someone who was treating patients. She turned to face Y/N. “Come along, you. Your free period doesn’t last all day.” A scraping sound emanated from the metal rods as she parted the curtains.

The first thing that hit her was the smell of Dittany—a strong musky, herbal scent with notes of mint. Y/N had smelled it the first time when she’d sliced her finger in Potions class in second year, and she’d never forgotten the way the viscous brown substance looked as it trickled into her cut.

Madame Pomfrey stepped aside from the gap she’d created in the curtains, ushering her inside. “I’ll let you know when you need to leave.”

Y/N crept forward, passing the threshold of the curtains. She gasped when she saw who was inside. “Malfoy?”

He looked awful, even worse than when she saw him that night in December. He was so gray that he resembled a corpse. The crisp white hospital linens were pulled tight around his otherwise bare chest, where she could see the beginnings of angry red gashes poking out from above the sheets.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” said Madame Pomfrey before shutting the curtains behind Y/N.

When she was sure that Pomfrey’s footsteps had faded, Y/N produced her wand and cast a silencing spell around the curtains, unsure what else to do or what to say. Finally, when she met his hooded eyes, she settled on:

“Are you alright?” That was a stupid question. Thankfully, he ignored it completely.

“You came.” He was gaping at her vacantly. “I didn’t think…didn’t think you would.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” said Y/N. “Pomfrey didn’t tell me who it was.”

He sighed, then shut his lips, pouting childishly.

“What happened to you?” she asked. Everything in her wanted to come up and embrace him, brush his hair away from his forehead, and tell him how much she’d missed him and how afraid she was for him, but the thought of acting on these desires made her sick to her stomach. “Who did this to you?”

Draco stared blankly at her before letting his head fall back on the pillow.

“When did this happen?”

“I miss you.” He said this with his eyes closed, so quietly Y/N thought she had imagined it.

“What?”

“It’s not fair,” he mumbled. “None of this is fair.”

“You’re not making any sense. Why did you call me here? Where’s Pansy?” She gingerly sat down on the chair beside his bed, which produced a little creak as she transferred her weight onto the seat. At the sound, his eyes cracked open and he twisted, wincing as he reached out. After some waving about, his fingers found her hand.

She stiffened. Worry welled up in her throat. His hand was blazing hot, warm from sleep.

“Don’t go,” he whispered as she attempted to wrench herself from his grip. “Please don’t go.”

“You’re not well,” she said, pointing out the obvious. Draco hardly seemed to hear or register anything that she had said to him. Realization hit her when she saw the empty potion bottles on the nightstand. Madame Pomfrey must’ve dosed him with a cocktail of pain potions, leaving him with barely half his mind. She was speaking to the most incoherent version of Draco she’d ever seen.

He probably wouldn’t remember any of this, she bitterly thought to herself. She would have to be the one who carried the burden of this interaction.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never forgive myself for what I’ve done.”

“It’s okay.” It definitely wasn’t, but Y/N wasn’t about to say so to an invalid clearly on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

“I’m not allowed to love you,” he said, almost ruefully.

“I’m aware,” Y/N snapped.

“I miss you,” he said again, his fingers tightening around hers. “I wish you still called me Draco.”

Y/N didn’t even dignify this with a response. This wasn’t even a conversation—he was so high on whatever Madame Pomfrey had given him that he probably didn’t even realize that she was actually there.

“I hate Terry Boot,” he mumbled. “It’s not fair.”

Y/N blinked. What had Terry ever done to him?

“You have to stay,” he said. Y/N cocked her head.

“I’m here,” she said gently, though she knew it was futile. He wouldn’t understand, even if he did hear her.

“Don’t leave me. Please.” He was begging now, which confused Y/N. She hadn’t so much as shifted since she tried to pull her hands from his in the beginning. Nothing in her body language hinted at her leaving. He must’ve been so far gone that he was hallucinating her getting up and letting go.

“I’m right here,” she repeated. Tentatively, and mostly because she knew he wouldn’t remember, she leaned forward and touched her palm gently to his cheek. He pressed into the contact like a housecat, his eyes fluttering shut.

“I don’t deserve you,” he croaked. “But I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Y/N’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“I love you,” he breathed. “I’m yours.”

Her heart dropped. She pulled her hand away from his face, feeling for a moment as if she was going to puke right then and there.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she whispered, feeling hot tears prick at the backs of her eyes. “I’ll ask Pomfrey to get Pansy.” Because if he was going to confess his love to anyone, it was going to be Pansy Parkinson, heiress to the Parkinson fortune and by all accounts a perfect Slytherin Pureblooded Princess. It wasn’t going to be Y/N.

He made a small sound of protest as she stood up and wrenched her fingers from his grip. Her heart ached as she looked down at him, taking in his newfound feebleness and delirium.

“Don’t,” he rasped. “Please—don’t go—”

Y/N waved her wand, breaking the silencing charm before stepping through the curtains without another word.

“Back so soon?” asked Madame Pomfrey. She was on the other side of the room, tediously logging the potion inventory into a sheet of parchment.

“I think there’s been a mistake,” Y/N said. “He thinks I’m someone else—his girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson. He’s very discombobulated.”

Madame Pomfrey frowned. “Girlfriend? The Slytherin girl with black hair?”

“That’s Pansy.”

“She was just in,” she said. “She dropped off notes. He asked for you by name.”

“He has no idea what he’s saying,” said Y/N stubbornly. “He didn’t understand anything I said to him. He didn’t mean to ask for me, I’m sure of it.’

She bid her goodbyes to Madame Pomfrey before heading to her next class.

Her sheets felt stiffer than usual. And warmer, very warm, like she wasn’t alone.

Y/N jerked awake to find herself in the hospital bed with a very awake, very lucid Draco staring at her. The tiny bed left barely any space between the two of them, and she’d found that part of her body was draped over his.

“Fuck,” she hissed, frantically pulling the blankets off of her and scrambling out of bed.

“How are you here?” asked Draco. His voice was prim, crisp, and posh—a return to normalcy. “I haven’t seen you in days. I thought we only dreamt of each other when I saw you.”

Y/N sighed. “I did see you today. Pomfrey got confused. She brought me to you instead of Pansy.”

“Oh,” said Draco. He was significantly paler. “I don’t remember.”

“I’m not surprised,” she responded. “You were absolutely delirious. Completely nonsensical.”

“What kinds of things did I say?”

Y/N shrugged. “Nothing important.” Because it really wasn’t, not in the grand scheme of things. Because he didn’t mean anything that he’d said.

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I think you thought I was Pansy,” said Y/N. “So you said some weird things.”

“Like what?”

“Things,” she hissed through her teeth.

“What kind of things?”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Y/N rubbed the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb. “What happened to you? Why are you in the hospital wing?”

“Potter cursed me,” said Draco. “He used some backyard homemade curse that almost killed me.”

Y/N gasped. “What? Why?”

“He suspected that I was behind Katie Bell’s affliction,” he said simply.

“On Tuesday?” Y/N knew that if she thought about it for long enough, she’d feel nauseous at the thought of what he’d had to endure. But now she was numb, instead focused on the hurt that he’d caused her over the past month.

He nodded.

“You need to ask Pomfrey for the antidote to this whole dreaming business,” Y/N informed him. “I’m not going to ask. She’s going to think I was the one who stole the crystal ball, and you’re under her care, anyway. It’ll be more convenient if you ask.”

“I can’t ask her either!” he said. “If I do, she’ll know it was me. I can’t have a target on my back. Not now.”

“Well then.” Y/N scowled as she whipped out her wand and transfigured her chair until it was a large, cozy armchair. Then she tucked her legs under herself and rested her head on the arm.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to sleep,” said Y/N.

“There’s a perfectly fine bed right here. No need for the showy Transfiguration.”

“It’s not perfectly fine when you’re in it,” she retorted.

He rolled his eyes and held open the sheets. “Come here. Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll get out if you want.”

“No.”

“You’re so stubborn,” he said. There was no venom in his tone.

She ignored his comment, lost in her own train of thought. For some reason, what she’d told him about Terry emerged in her ponderings. She was angry at him, yes, but there was no reason to try and keep up the lie. Letting him believe that she was dating Terry would eventually catch up to her, she was sure of it. It would be more embarrassing if he discovered the truth from someone else.

Once she’d found her resolve in confessing, she cleared her throat. “I, ehm, I need to clear my conscience while we’re both here. I need to tell you something. I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not dating Terry,” she said. His eyebrows shoot up. “I just let you think I was because you were getting on my nerves and it seemed like it upset you.”

His silver eyes glittered in the moonlight as he laughed, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you’re a Hufflepuff sometimes.”

She sent him a weak smile in return, though she didn’t really feel it reach her eyes. It felt good to get her secret off her chest—he surely would’ve found out from someone else eventually—but she’d lost her last bargaining chip. Nothing else about her seemed to elicit any indication that he cared.

“Don’t feel too guilty,” he continued. “We’re even.”

“How so?” she asked, inspecting her fingernails instead of meeting his eyes.

“I’m not dating Pansy.”

Her head snapped up, her gaze meeting his. There was no trace of insincerity in his face. “What?”

“Pansy and I aren’t really together,” said Draco. “I was going to tell you earlier. I just never had the chance.”

Anger and relief simultaneously rushed through her. Anger, because what did he mean he didn’t have any time? They’d been at school for over 2 months after the fact. Relief, because…well, she didn’t need to explain that.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” admonished Y/N.

“I couldn’t,” he answered.

“You are right now. I don’t understand.”

“The Dark Lord—I mean, Voldemort—went through my thoughts over the break,” said Draco, looking rather solemn. “He saw the memory of us in the corridor from when I came to say goodbye. It was dark enough that he didn’t see who you were, so I told him you were Pansy.”

“But we’ve been together so many other times. How did he not see those?”

“Legilimency only works on memories created in our usual reality,” he explained. “He can’t see my dreams. So I couldn’t tell you because I couldn’t figure out how to break into Trelawney’s classroom until last weekend. And I also didn’t want to try in my real corporeal form, anyway.”

“Why not?”

He looked sheepish. “You’re scary when you’re angry.”

“I'm the scary one?”

“I thought you were going to hex me in the last dream,” he said. “I’ve heard how good you are at dueling. I’d prefer to not be on the receiving end of that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her heart was pounding from all that he’d just dumped on her.”Does Pansy know?”

“‘Course,” he said, frowning.

“And she’s okay with you pretending to be her boyfriend so you can cover your tracks after fucking around with a mudblood?” The words tasted acrid in her mouth.

“I didn’t give her your name,” he said, looking even more uncomfortable.

“She’s in love with you, you know.”

Draco sighed, a sharp breath leaving his nose. “I know. That’s why I didn’t tell her it was you. She’d be ruthless.”

“So what does she know?”

“That I’m involved with someone that I’m not supposed to be with,” he said simply.

Her middle began to feel weightless with hope, hope that she unsuccessfully attempted to tamp down. “That you are involved with? Present tense?”

He shrugged. “That was the plan, yeah. Before Boot, of course.”

“Is it still?” She hated the way she sounded so expectant, so optimistic.

“Would you like that?” asked Draco. His long, dark lashes nearly touched his cheekbones as he looked down, focusing on the hospital sheets instead of Y/N.

“You’d only ever see me in our dreams,” she pointed out.

“That’s okay. It’s better than not seeing you at all.”

She wanted to say yes. She wanted to agree wholeheartedly, to jump in the hospital bed with him and bury her face in his neck. But what stopped her was the fear. He’d gotten her hopes up so many times before, and dealing with the aftermath had been nearly catastrophic for Y/N.

As if he could read her thoughts, Draco shifted and met her eyes. “It’s okay if the answer is no. I know that asking you to trust me again is…a lot.”

“I’m just not really sure what I should do,” she admitted. “I’m afraid of getting hurt again.” But who was she kidding? Draco Malfoy, her school crush of over 2 years now, was handing himself over to her on a silver platter. She’d let her filet her with a plastic takeaway knife if it meant getting to shag him again. She considered indicating that she’d come to her senses, but the way he was looking at her with such sorrowful and empathetic eyes made her decide to hold her tongue for a bit longer. She did deserve a good apology, after all, not one from when his brain was addled with pain potions.

“I know,” he said gently. “I wish I could find a way to atone for the things I’ve done. Words can’t describe how much I regret how much I’ve hurt you. I’ll do anything if it results in your forgiveness.”

The pretty words he offered were empty. There were of course things that he wouldn’t do, lines that he wouldn’t cross if it resulted in harm to his family. But they were good enough, she supposed. She couldn’t fault him for loving his mother.

“Okay,” she said. “I forgive you. But if you ever do anything like this to me without warning again, I’m breaking a thousand crystal balls and haunting you for the rest of your life.”

He was grinning by the time she finished her threat.

“You’re supposed to act at least a little scared,” she told him, sounding much more wounded than she actually was. “I was just very intimidating there.”

“Oh, yes, very scary,” he said gravely. “Terrifying. Appalling. I’m trembling. Will you get back in bed with me now?”

The spot where she had appeared was still warm as she settled down next to him, letting him pull her into his side once again. They didn’t talk. Y/N just laid as she thought, feeling his fingers stroke through her hair.

“What did you mean by ‘involved’?” she asked, finally. The question had been nagging her for however long she’d been lying there. “What does this mean to you?”

His fingers threaded into the hair behind the nape of her neck, stilling. “Is this a ‘what are we’ question?”

“I guess,” she said. When he phrased it like that, it made her feel a little ridiculous. She knew what they were—a distraction for him, a fun side quest to keep him from thinking about his real responsibilities. When they graduated, he’d be a good little boy and get engaged to someone like Pansy or Daphne. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I assume nothing’s changed since last fall.”

A sick, heavy sense of dread filled her stomach. Now that she’d thought about it, she really didn’t want him to answer. It was easier for her to read into things, to pretend like there was meaning where there wasn’t if he didn’t explicitly tell her otherwise. That’s how she’d handled it the first go around. The tender way he touched her near the end enabled her fantasies of him returning her feelings. Could she do it all over again if he told her what she feared most?

She wasn’t sure. And he’d been quiet for a long time, too, which was stressing her out more.

“Please don’t answer if you don’t want to. I won’t make it into anything it isn’t,” she lied. She totally would, but what she thought in the private recesses of her mind was her business and her business only.

“Hey.” His voice was gentle but firm as he used his hold on the back of her hair to softly tilt her face up to meet his gaze. “I’m really sorry I’ve made you feel like that. I know I’ve been a bit of an arse to you, especially at first. It’s not a real excuse, but in my defense I didn’t think you were a real person for a while.”

She snorted. Where was he going with this?

“If things were ordinary,” he continued, “I’d be a much better boyfriend—actually take you out on dates and study together and all that normal stuff. But—are you alright?”

He’d paused because Y/N had stopped breathing.

“What?” she said after she finally checked back into her body and inhaled through her nose. “You’d want that with me?”

“Of course,” he replied, his voice soft. “But things aren’t ordinary. I can’t give you those things, at least not now. It’s too dangerous for both of us.”

“Oh. Yeah, I understand.” Her momentary high had dropped considerably.

“That isn’t to say that I don’t want anything real with you,” Draco said hastily. His fingers moved out of her hair, his palms coming to her jaw so his thumbs could run across the lengths of her cheekbones. He was still wearing his signet ring, and the coolness of the silver against her hot skin was startling. “I do. I care for you—more than what’s good for the both of us. That’s why I stole the crystal ball. I couldn’t stay away any longer, and that was terribly selfish of me. I know that seeing me like this doesn’t even hold a candle to what you deserve, but it’s all I can offer right now.”

“And is what you’re offering the same as you did last fall?” she prodded. Hope treacherously made its way back into her chest cavity.

“No.”

“So are you proposing that you be my boyfriend, but only in this realm?”

He rolled his eyes, but a smile danced across his lips. “I was thinking more along the lines of your actual boyfriend. With the caveat that we meet up at night in another dimension instead of, say, Saturday afternoons at Hogsmeade. What do you think about that?”

“I think I can manage,” she said mildly, trying her hardest to seem cool and collected.

“I can feel your heart racing,” he said smugly. The hand that was stroking her neck pressed into her pulse point in a light demonstration.

“Oh, stop it.” She flushed, frowning. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” said Draco. “I think it’s cute how much this affects you.”

As if to prove his point, he bent down until his face was almost level with hers before lightly kissing the tip of her nose, then the tops of her cheeks. She was grinning stupidly by the time he was done.

Shyly, she pushed her weight into her toes and shifted forward. Her nose nudged against his cheek as she tilted her head up. When her lips finally pressed into his, his fingers curled around her waist, pulling her further into his chest.

It struck her then, really struck her, that she wasn’t just kissing Draco Malfoy—she was kissing her boyfriend. Her boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. He was hers.

The thought made her entirely giddy as she rested her hands on his chest, letting her thumb run across his skin. His skin was so warm to the touch. She was overwhelmed by the need to be even closer to him than she already was, to somehow intertwine themselves until there was no telling where one ended and the other began.

For the first time in months, Y/N awoke feeling completely at peace.

Draco sat next to her in Potions on Friday. As Slughorn lectured, droning on about the properties of Valerian root, Draco’s knee nudged against hers. They managed to look entirely serious and no nonsense when they spoke to each other and jointly brewed a Draught of Peace, but under the table, his fingers would briefly rest on her thigh or tangle with hers.

Y/N thought she was going to absolutely combust with happiness by the time she joined Justin and the rest of the Dueling Club in the meeting room to travel to France. She wasn’t afraid anymore. Now that she was riding the euphoric emotional waves of her renewed relationship with Draco, she felt like she could take on the world.

“I have a tournament tomorrow,” she told him that night after she’d fallen asleep in the French hotel room. She’d awoken to find herself next to Draco in his own dorm bed.

“Where?” he asked, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. He was hovering over her, letting his forearms support his weight from their place besides her head.

“France,” she told him. “I’m there right now, actually. I took a Portkey a few hours before dinner.”

“That’s exciting.” Draco smiled encouragingly down at her. “I’m sure you’re going to wipe the floor with everyone.”

She frowned, deep in thought. “I’m not sure. I’m actually really nervous. I can barely beat McLaggen, and he’s probably like a child compared to the other duelers. Durmstrang is sending their best.”

“That sounds intimidating,” he agreed. “But you have a natural talent for dueling. You’re going to do wonderfully.” To punctuate his last point, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her forehead.

She smiled, then changed the subject to something Slughorn had said in class. It struck her then how domestic and normal their meetings were becoming. It felt so natural now to tell him about her day and how it made her feel. The newfound emotional vulnerability felt like a warm, fuzzy blanket around Y/N’s entire body, wrapped tight.

The next day was a blur. Every dueler was scheduled to partake in 6 sessions. The first opponent Y/N had was a lithe, elegant Beauxbatons boy with rich chocolate hair and a demeanor that reminded her distantly of Draco.

Despite Professor Flitwick’s pep talk to her before she’d stepped into the ring, the sudden gravity of it all weighed on her the moment she passed through the protective wards. The Beauxbatons boy, who she was pretty sure was named Clement, was languidly twirling a short, stumpy wand around his fingers and eying her up and down. She had refused to ask how accomplished this dueler was—it’d only serve to make her more nervous—but the way he was smirking at her made her think the feeling was not mutual. If he hadn’t heard that this was her first tournament, he had at least figured out she was a muggleborn 6th year by now.

“Take your stances!” called out the moderator from outside the circle. She was a wiry looking woman, with carrot red hair and some flavor of Scandinavian accent. Y/N’s knees nearly buckled as she bent them slightly, staggering her legs and readying her wand. “Begin!”

A curse, white hot and scathing, hit her chest before the word had even finished echoing throughout the hall. It struck Y/N head on, making her double over and wheeze as her lungs seized.

“Stop!” cried the moderator. “Illegal spell. Beauxbatons 35 is disqualified. The win is given to Hogwarts 2.”

Clement scoffed. “Illegal? Zat was a simple burning ‘ex!” He stomped out of the ring with a flourish, meeting a tall blonde woman who patted his shoulder and scowled nastily at Y/N—the Beauxbatons coach, she assumed.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” asked Katie, appearing at her side with worry in her eyes. “That looked like it was nasty. He cast it early. You didn’t even have a chance to block it.”

“I’m alright.” Her voice was shaky and hoarse. “Everything just happened so quickly. At least I technically won, right?”

Katie clapped her on her back. “Good. You’ll get more used to it. I can’t believe he used that curse—no international dueling competitions allow any body alteration spells in the preliminary rounds. I’m sorry. Do you want to stop by the infirmary?”

“No,” said Y/N. If she stopped by the infirmary, she’d have to tell someone how she felt, and if she thought about how she felt for too long, she’d probably vomit from the nerves. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“It must’ve been just a temporary burning curse, then,” explained Katie. “I have to go visit Cormac and watch his round. Good luck on the next if I don’t see you before, yeah?”

The next 5 rounds were even more nerve wracking. Y/N was matched exclusively with Durmstrang wizards. They were impossibly burly, nearly twice her size in both height and bulk. Miraculously, Y/N managed to nudge her second opponent into the barrier charms with a well placed Jelly Legs jinx. The wards glowed a blood red once he breached the perimeter of the circle, and she was declared the winner. She won her third, fourth, and fifth rounds with equal fortune, just barely managing to aim her curses enough to strike them where they least expected it. She even took after McLaggen, sending a Stupefy at the toes of her fifth opponent when his shield wasn’t fully comprehensive.

“You’re 5 for 5,” said Katie once Y/N returned to the room that the Hogwarts kids had been hanging out in between rounds. “I want to watch your 6th round. Who’s it this time?”

“I have no idea.” Y/N panted as she finished up her water bottle. Though it wasn’t the most physically demanding sport, she was already drenched in sweat and her heart was racing. “I think they’re releasing pairings in 5.”

Katie nodded. “Exciting. You might make it to out-rounds, you know.”

“Out-rounds?”

“You know, the final elimination rounds,” explained Katie. “In a tournament this small, they’ll probably only go as far as quarterfinals. Octofinals are more common at larger meets. It’s really rare to win more than 4 prelims without getting there, so I think it’s totally possible. Especially when even Cormac is down 2.”

Y/N felt nervousness creep into her throat. Was she really the only Hogwarts dueler who hadn’t lost yet?

She did not hold this title for long. Hristo Krum was her last opponent, and he absolutely eviscerated her in a matter of seconds. In his defense, he cast a clean, respectful Flipendo aimed directly at her wand hand that sent her spiraling into the bounds. It was a fair win, and when he shook her hand after the round, he congratulated her.

“It is good to see another young dueler,” he said in his thick Bulgarian accent. “I have heard of your earlier rounds. You are doing well for your first time.”

His kind words were almost enough to make her forget the glares that the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students sent her as it was announced that she would be the only 6th year progressing into the quarterfinals.

“Out-rounds are different,” Katie instructed her as they hurriedly prepared in their prep room. “You won’t get to use shields, and almost all curses but those that are lethal are allowed. They’ll have a healer on site regardless, just in case. We’ve never trained you to do this sort of thing before, so don’t feel bad if you get eliminated.”

She was up against the same Beauxbatons boy from the first round. Anger bubbled up in her as the moderator told them to take their stances. Y/N nonverbally began to build up a full-body binding hex in her fingers. The moment that the words “Begin!” left the lips of the moderator, she cast. He was on the floor in seconds.

“Fucking bitch,” he spat once she’d been declared the winner and released the binding hex. “Mudblood.” He then added some French that Y/N didn’t quite understand, but she assumed that he was using equally colorful words.

Y/N awkwardly tossed her wand back and forth as he was led away, stuck between feeling the raw wound of being reminded of her place in Wizarding society and the euphoria of the fact that she was progressing into semifinals. It was harder to feel offended by someone like Clement when she knew she just simply was better than him, even if he had fancier lineage.

She ended up losing the semifinal round to a Beauxbatons boy that she’d never seen before. He’d sent a slicing hex at her wand hand, and the wound bled so profusely that she dropped her wand, immediately disqualifying her.

“Don’t look too bummed,” said Katie as she sat next to her, watching the healer on duty slowly patch up the slice. “I have good news.”

Y/N peered up at the brunette. “What news?”

“You qualified for the Bulgarian Duel!” Katie grinned. “They’re taking everyone who made it to quarterfinals. You’re the first 6th year to go in years, and I think the first female 6th year from Hogwarts to go ever.”

Y/N laughed, shakily. “Merlin. I don’t know if I can do another one of these.”

“Isn’t it great, though? The adrenaline? Knowing that you’re on equal ground with everyone, regardless of gender or blood?”

“I suppose,” said Y/N thoughtfully. “I guess you’re right. Maybe that’s why I like it so much.”

“It’ll be in a month or so,” added Katie. “Some duelers spend the entire fall trying to prepare for it. You’re really lucky to have made it after one tournament.”

After the final round wrapped up, Y/N collected her medal for 3rd place and smiled for the cameras next to Hristo Krum and the boy who had beaten her in her last round. A reporter asked for her name, and in a dazzled state, she gave it to him.

“Y/L/N?” said the man, tilting his head and scribbling something thoughtfully down on his scroll. “I’ve never heard that name before. What do your parents do?”

“They’re muggles,” said Y/N boldly, holding her chin up high and daring the reporter to say something snide in responde.

But the nasty comment never came. Instead, the short stumpy man nodded and furrowed his eyebrows as he added a few more notes. “Thank you, miss,” he said. Then he moved onto Hristo and the Beauxbatons boy.

Back at school, Y/N settled back into a comfortable routine. Draco would try and find excuses to at least be in her general line of sight each day, even if they weren’t in class, just so they could dream together. Though he never gave her any reason to worry, she found herself desperate to commit every moment they shared to her memory.

Because as much as he said he cared about her and loved her, there was never any guarantee as to what would happen between them in the near future. There was no happy ending that she could clearly envision. The logical thing for him to do was end things with her before he completed his task, or before he returned back home.

Even if somehow he didn’t want to break things off with her right then, she’d have to face the reality that he would eventually come to his senses. They wouldn’t so much as have the chance to owl each other over the summer, much less meet in person. They wouldn’t see each other for months. And who knows how he’d feel after being without her for a summer? Maybe he would decide that he wanted to be a good Slytherin lad after all and realize he didn’t need her anymore. And, even if that wasn’t true, they couldn’t go on dreaming forever. It would eventually need to end. She’d probably need to harvest her magical signature again at some point. Continuing this indefinitely would only result in her heart and her magic being harmed.

There was no light at the end of the tunnel. What she had with him was all she would ever have, she thought, as she tangled her legs with his in his silk sheets and shared secret, knowing glances with him in passing. This was finite. Unless he managed to convince his mother to escape, something he thought to be near impossible, they were doomed.

The Bulgarian Duel began on a cloudy Friday afternoon in April. Y/N had trained hard and long with Professor Flitwick to ensure that she would be able to hold her own against the older, more experienced duelers. Though she didn’t feel invincible, she felt less helpless. The plethora of printed articles about the Pygmy Invitational, depicting her as a rising superstar from unlikely roots, certainly didn’t hurt in raising her morale.

Clement was her first opponent, and she made quick work of knocking him out of the circle with a nonverbal flick of her wand. The rest of her rounds did not go as swimmingly. She won 2 others by just a hair, but lost the rest, ending on a neutral record of 3-3.

To cheer Y/N up, Professor Flitwick took her on a tour of the Bulgarian capital, Sofia. It was dark by the time they had finished up with the awards ceremony and embarked on their trip, opting to roam the streets of Wizarding Sofia until they found a restaurant that caught their eye.

It wasn’t like Y/N harbored any negative feelings towards Professor Flitwick—she’d just never really connected with the older professor when she’d begun taking Charms under his supervision. But the trip to Bulgaria was quickly warming her up to him. He was a jolly old man that reminded her of her late grandfather, with all of us stories and elderly man habits.

Sofia was a gorgeous city. They got to walk past the Alexander Nevsky Cathedra and its appealing teal and gold architecture. Y/N had never seen anything quite like it.

“This is beautiful!” she said to Professor Flitwick as they rounded the corner. “Thank you for taking me, Professor.”

“Of course,” Flitwick responded. “If we turn this way, there should be a fabulous restaurant a few blocks down. An old friend of mine runs it. It’ll be busy on a Saturday night, but I’m sure he’ll fit us in…”

She followed her dueling coach down a street that had become noticeably dimmer, succumbing to darkness of the twilight sky. The few lanterns that were hung outside the storefronts cast very little light on the cobbled road. Dark shadows huddled in the corners, whispering faintly to one another.

“Wait here, dear,” said Professor Flitwick. They’d stood in front of a noisy pub, full of wizards and witches joyously chattering. “I’ll be just a moment.”

Nervously, Y/N stood outside while her coach attempted to get them a table. The sky was quickly darkening, becoming pitch black and starless. Though the area she stood in was fairly well-lit, she was right across from a dark alley that made her feel uneasy.

The street quieted down as a large group of wizards left the pub and began walking their way down the street. The rate of passersby slowed to a trickle, and suddenly Y/N was virtually all alone.

“No! Please! Don’t!”

The sound of a woman crying shook Y/N out of her exhausted post-duel daze. It came from a crouched shadow in the alley, too far away and obscured by darkness for her to make out anything more.

“Please,” the woman begged again. “I have a family. Children! Please!”

Y/N’s blood ran ice cold. What was she watching? She was frozen in place. There was a movement in the shadows, and she could just barely make out another silhouette standing over the crouched woman.

An awful cackling sound came from the standing shadow. “Oh, dearie. Now I’ll have to find them too! You knew the rules. Get me what I want or suffer the consequences.”

It was a familiar, sing-songy voice. Y/N racked her brain. Where had she heard that woman before?

As the mystery woman moved to brandish her wand, Y/N caught a glimpse of scraggly black curls, poking just barely out of the alley and into her sight. It hit her then.

This was the woman who had cock-blocked her in that dream about Draco! She was here!

The memory was enough to jolt Y/N into action as the crouched figure wailed, begging for forgiveness and for her family’s safety. The wood of her wand was cold against her palm as she sprung into motion.

“Petrificus Totalous!”

By some miracle, Y/N’s blindly aimed spell hit her mark before the pair in the alley could move. The woman from Malfoy Manor limply fell into the street, her head bouncing once on the cobble before her body went completely still. The crouched woman scrambled to her feet and bolted down the sidewalk before Y/N could even open her mouth to shout after her.

“Miss Y/L/N!” said Professor Flitwick’s voice from behind her. “There’s a table ready.” When she didn’t respond—she was too busy staring at the woman who she had just paralyzed and likely concussed in the street—he spoke again. “Miss Y/L/N? Is everything alri—Merlin’s beard!”

Her elderly professor appeared at her side, gaping at the woman in front of her, then Y/N’s outstretched hand with her wand pointed directly at the body.

Y/N never did get to try the pub that Professor Flitwick raved about. Instead, she enjoyed a dry protein bar that tasted of sawdust on her trip back to the hotel. Professor Flitwick was adamant that they find an emergency Portkey and depart immediately after gathering their things. Y/N wasn’t sure what the big deal was—all she had done was stop some sort of drug deal gone wrong, and the Bulgarian Aurors didn’t even bother questioning her as a suspect—but her professor looked like he was about to combust with anxiety.

Y/N didn’t understand what he was so worried about—she’d seen the woman be ushered away into custody. She tried to pry, but Professor Flitwick seemed too frazzled to offer any elaboration beyond, “What you did was very brave.”

Monday morning began like any other morning. Like always, Y/N sat in her chair and tried to nonchalantly crane her head around so she could stare at Draco at the Slytherin table. Today, he was thumbing through what looked to be a long letter. His eyes flickered up to meet hers for a moment, sending her a secret smile. She smiled back, the knowledge that she would get to have him all to herself that night humming in her chest.

The day took a strange turn when an arm reached out and yanked her behind a tapestry on her way to Potions.

She shrieked against the hand that muffled her mouth, trying her hardest to pull away from the figure that had her tightly pressed to their front.

“Sh!” It was Draco. Once she had relaxed, he let go of her mouth and let her turn to face him. He looked happier than he had in months, with dimples peeking out of his slight smile and a friendly scrunch in the corner of his eye.

“I thought you couldn’t see me in person!” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

His smile grew into a wolfish grin before he grabbed her around the waist and began peppering kisses all over her face.

“Draco! Stop!” she gasped. “Your memories! You can’t do—hmph!” He shut her up by finally covering her mouth with his, his hands twisting in the back of her robes before he finally released her.

“Actually, I can,” he said, looking far too proud of himself. “Guess what happened over the weekend?”

“What happened?” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him look so good-humored and light—probably not since 5th year, she realized.

“My mother just sent me a letter saying that she’s managed to escape,” said Draco. “She’s hiding out someplace in Muggle Canada.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “You’re free? You don’t have to do your task anymore? Or go home?”

He nodded, then pulled her into her chest so he could press a kiss to her forehead. It was sweet that he couldn’t seem to stop touching her.

“How?”

“Her handler—my aunt Bellatrix—was caught somewhere in Bulgaria and taken into custody over the weekend,” he explained. “She was the one in charge of monitoring my mother and ensuring that she couldn’t leave. When Bellatrix didn’t return home, my mother went out on what she disguised as a shopping trip and left for good.”

Y/N paled. “Bellatrix? Like, Bellatrix Lestrange?” The puzzle pieces were starting to click into place. That was the name she’d seen appear everywhere in articles and journals about the darkest wizards and witches of their age. She’d never seen a picture of the witch, though.

“Yes.” Draco frowned. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, fuck,” she breathed. “Oh God.” No wonder Flitwick had been so stressed out of her mind. Y/N had single handedly taken out a war criminal.

“You’re worrying me,” he said, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t know that woman was Bellatrix Lestrange,” said Y/N. "I thought she was just—I dunno—a batshit insane lady who happened to be your aunt. You’re related to Bellatrix Lestrange?”

He grimaced. “I know. It’s weird, I’m sorry. She’s my mother’s sister.”

“No, no, that’s not what I’m upset about,” clarified Y/N, waving her hand.

“Then what is it?”

“I was the one who petrified her,” said Y/N. “I saw her in an alleyway. She was accosting some poor witch, and I didn’t even think. I just cast the spell and before I knew it, the Bulgarian Aurors were putting her in some sort of magical straightjacket and dragging her away and Flitwick was patting my shoulder and telling me how brave I was.”

She gasped for breath once she’d stopped—she’d been rambling.

Draco was doing an award winning “deer in the headlights” impression a few inches away from her. “You—you caught Bella?”

“It wasn’t like it was hard,” said Y/N, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her, like she had just turned into a unicorn. “If I had known it was Bellatrix Lestrange, I probably would’ve been a little more nervous. God. I had no idea it was her. She could’ve killed me!”

Draco blinked hard. “Ehm. Well. I’m not really sure what to say. You really didn’t know who it was?”

“No!” exclaimed Y/N. “If I had, I probably wouldn’t have been able to even point my wand at her. Jesus Christ.”

“It’s good that Flitwick had you leave,” said Draco. “The Bulgarians didn’t take your name, did they?”

“No.”

“So, no one will trace it back to you. The perfect crime. You never stop impressing me.”

She smiled at the praise, leaning into him. His chest was warm and solid against her. How had everything turned for the best in a matter of weeks? She’d gone from a nervous, heartbroken, and jaded girl to a semi-accomplished dueler who had caught not only a serial killer but the heart of the boy that she’d wanted for years.

After Bellatrix’s capture, things changed for the better between Y/N and Draco. Instead of their midnight rendezvous, Draco would find excuses to snog her in empty classrooms or behind tapestries. They hadn’t made anything public—doing so would’ve been dangerous for Y/N—but she was happier than ever.

June came quickly, along with Y/N’s concerns for the future. Draco couldn’t go home. Ever since he’d failed to complete his task or offer any progress reports to his ex-master, it was clear that returning to his childhood home would be a repackaged death sentence. Y/N usually tried to avoid the subject, assuming that he planned on fleeing the country or joining his mum or something, but as fate would have it, they eventually had to broach the topic.

Draco had snuck her into his Slytherin dorm room by making liberal use of disillusionment spells. It was strange to be, really be, in his bed, watching fish dart by his window as his hand stroked up and down her ribs.

“I’m really glad this all worked out,” mused Y/N, keeping her eyes trained on his window. His body, curled behind hers, kept her from getting too cold in the dungeon air. “I can’t believe I got this lucky. I’m really going to miss you.”

His hand paused on her waist, and she felt him nuzzle her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to see you for a whole summer,” she said, trying not to sniffle or do anything else equally as embarrassing. “And that’s under the assumption that you’re even coming back to Hogwarts.”

“Oh,” he said, exhaling a shaky laugh. “You don’t want to see me over the summer?”

She sat up, turning to give him a stern look. “Of course I want to see you. But aren’t you going to be in hiding or something?”

He shrugged. “I mean, yeah. I wasn’t planning on appearing in Wizarding society. But you live in the Muggle world over summer, right?”

She nodded.

“And on that note…” He cleared his throat, looking a little awkward. “I’ve meant to ask this for a while, but I don’t want you to feel any pressure to say yes. The last thing I want to do is intrude on your family over the summer. I’ve been thinking about that conversation we had before Yule in the corridor. You know how you said that I could stay with you over the break?”

Draco waited until she nodded to continue. “Did you really mean that? Or was that just a spur of the moment thing?”

“Of course I meant it,” said Y/N. “I’m sure my family would’ve been alright with it. And I would’ve wanted you there, too, of course.”

“Right,” he said. “I know that it’s poor etiquette to invite myself like this, but would you be willing to host me over the summer?”

Y/N gaped at him. “But your mother! Don’t you want to be with her?”

“She can’t tell me where she is in Canada over owls,” he explained. “She says it’s too risky to disclose that information, especially internationally. It could easily get into the wrong hands. I agree. I think it’d be best if I waited to come to her until after everything is settled and I know that we’ll both be safe.”

“So until after the war?”

He pressed his lips together. “Yeah. Probably.”

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, you can stay with me for however long you’d like,” she told him, reaching up to tap the top of his nose. The tension in his face was replaced with relief, then affection.

“I was worried you would say no,” he admitted.

“And why would I do that?” she asked, grinning madly. Her boyfriend was going to live with her for at least the summer. Why would she ever refuse something like that?

“I don’t know,” Draco said. His hands found her waist once again, and he leaned forward to kiss the corner of her mouth. “I know I’m asking quite a lot from you.”

“I’d do anything for you,” she said without hesitation. “I’m really glad you asked—oh!”

Something cold pressed into her bare waist—Draco’s ring. He was smirking at her as she tried to regain her breath.

“Something wrong?” he asked innocently, like he wasn’t dragging the cool metal from her waist down to her stomach, and then lower still. Then, leaning forward so his breath fanned over her neck: “I thought you liked my rings.”

For the first time since she could remember, she no longer dreaded the onset of her looming muggleborn summer.

final a/n: hi everyone :) thank you for coming along for the ride of this fun series! i'm not sure what i'm going to be writing next. it always feels so bizarre to finish up something like this. ik i keep sayign that (insert series name here) is going to be the last thing i write for this community but idk if i mean that...because it's sm fun to write these. thank you all for reading. i apologize if the end seems abrupt!

tags! @writeandtranslate @sycathorn-slush @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @yiamalfoy @crystalox @dracoismybabey @dreamcxtcherr @decaffeinated-turtle @marrymetheonott @felicityofbakerstreet @daedreamss @sycathorn-slush @writeandtranslate @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @sycathorn-slush @big-galaxy-chaos @lilyrachelcassidy @ynalouis @sivuda @zzoz942 @imabee-oralizard @afuckenslutforharrybro

#draco x reader #draco imagine #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x oc

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babymomoring · 11 months

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hi can you do little samo trying to play with nd mina?? and learning ways to play together

momo, sana and mina are one, they're a pack, actually, their closeness can be understood by watching the claw machine scene in Toy Story, always has been and always will be. That's why even when the three girls are regressed, momo and sana try to maintain that closeness.

they had good intentions, they can swear on it but they just couldn't handle it when mina reacted poorly to their attempts to play with her.

they tried to play band, mina just started crying while covering her ears.

they tried dancing, mina just nodded along the beat and kept doing her thing.

they tried just cuddling and watching a movie, mina walked away after 10 minutes.

and those are just a few examples, there's a lot more, they've been trying for what felt like an eternity and they were tired and discouraged.

"momorin, i's ask nayeonnie can i have juice, you wants?" sana offered "juice p'ease but why ask? no wanna annoy yeonnie, we do it" momo tried, they are big girls so they can do it themselves, right? "no momorin, have to ask or we have troubles" sana rationalized, the idea made sense but it's better if they just stayed out of trouble.

sana expected an answer or a signal to just go but she didn't expect the squeal that came from her best friend "sattan sattan that, we has to do that" it was the answer they've been looking for, it was right in front of them all this time, that's why the black haired girl got a bit frustrated when her pink haired friend just looked at her confused instead of getting happy "yeah, that why i's say it" she didn't understand the other little's sudden excitement at all, she just kind of went with it "no that sattan, we has to ask mina what she wanna play" of course momo really wanted sana to understand and she did, that's why her face lit up and began squealing and jumping around "you is right let's go now" she waited for momo to stand up so she could grab her hand and run into the living room.

"minari minari" she called the younger's name, mina cocked her head and looked at the older girls and so did dahyun and nayeon who were keeping her company, they've seen this same scenary develop numerous times and they knew what was coming, except this time they didn't.

"we wants to play with you, what you's want to play?" sana asked eagerly looking at mina with rapt attention. her answer was patting the carpet she was sitting in and running to who knows where. "i think she wants hide n' seek" momo stated out loud "she don't like hide n' seek momorin, r'ember?" they already tried that a couple of times. a silence followed "sattan do you thinks mitan no wanna play with us? i's don't thinks she likes us" momo asked softly, she was sure they had the answer after all this time and mina ran away from them. it made her sad, she just loved the younger a lot and wanted to play with her, that's why tears began falling quietly from her eyes. every alarm on the caregivers and best friend's head turned all of them trying to soothe the little and failing.

after a few minutes of that, they heard fast step approaching them, they looked up and mina was running towards them with a box between her hands, she was giggling on her way until she saw the tears on the black haired girl. the giggles where replaced by a worried and confused look "momorin are you okay?" she asked she didn't know what was happening, she just knew her friend was crying and she didn't like that, she didn't know momo also cried, she never saw her doing so.

" 's okay momorin, you okay. i's luv you lots n' lots" the younger one said while hugging her, she was doing everything her friends did for her whenever she cried. they stayed like that until momo's cries became just sniffles "i's thought you was running away because you not like us" momo tried to explain, mina listened and shook her head "no moguri, i's ran to get this so we can play" she signaled the box which read 'hamtaro puzzle 40 pieces' at that, momo dried her tears "kay, can we plays now, p'ease?" and so they did.

from that point on, the three of them knew they had to ask what the other wanted and say what each of them wanted, of course every now and then someone ended up crying but it is what it is.

#mina #momo #sana #misamo #age regression #twice agere #twice

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usetheeauthor · 2 years

Text

I Know What You Did Last Weekend 18+ (Smut)

Battinson!Sub!Bruce Wayne x Kravitz!Dom!Selina Kyle x Switch!Curvy!Villain!Fem!Reader

A/N: This was long overdue. I think both Zoe and Robert are absolutely hot so I had to do it to ‘em! The picture is not meant to represent the reader’s appearance. This switches between POVs. It’s first person for your POV in the beginning while Selina’s and Bruce’s are in third/second towards the ending. Also, this is really filthy and Selina’s def top 😅 Enjoy!

Word Count: 5.1k+

Summary: Bruce goes undercover at the popular nightclub, “Club Succubus”, in search of a serial killer who murders very powerful men. Selina wants vengeance. She’s looking for the woman who killed her father when it should’ve been her. Little did they know, you’d be a lot tougher to resist.

Warnings: use of Y/N, violence, murder, blood kink, threesome, oral sex (m & f receiving), DUB CON, dom/sub dynamics, p in v penetration, unprotected sex (pls be safe), cum eating, girl on girl, spanking, slight mommy kink, slight ass worship (reader’s got a wagon), use of oil, face sitting, use of handcuffs, hair pulling, dirty talk, slight themes of misandry and misogyny, implied body shaming

Y/N’s POV

The smell of sex wafting through the air. That was the way I liked it. I craved an atmosphere of full debauchery and zero inhibitions. Club Succubus was my creation. Here…I did whatever the fuck I want. No rules, no worries, no bullshit. Hell, I even recognized some cops frequenting this place of sin.

I look over at the entrance recognizing the face of a man whom I’ve despised for so long. Carmine Falcone. The dirty bastard. He’s taken business deals from me for as long as I can remember. The crime world was dominated by men and no one took a woman getting her foot through the door seriously. Slowly but surely, I’ve found my footing in this city along with loyal members who help carry out my plans for Gotham. But him. He was always an obstacle that kept me from being fully feared by everyone. That will come to an end. There’s no place for a man like him in this city. I’d be doing everyone a favor getting rid of him.

I’ve flirted with him times before. It wasn’t lost on me that he’d dismissed me because I was a curvier girl. Yet, here he was in my nightclub specifically looking for me.

His eyes land on mine as I sat in VIP section. I smirk. He makes his way over to me, eyes intense with lust.

“Baby, you’re looking ravishing.” He says, breathlessly raking up and down your figure.

“Mr. Falcone,” You smiled before standing up from your purple, tufted throne chair. You sauntered down the short steps towards him. “You know, I wasn’t sure you’d come. After all, I was convinced that you were way too vanilla. Couldn’t handle a body like mine.” You ran your hand over his shirt and see his Adam’s Apple bobbing.

“It’s not like that, baby,” He bites his lip, hypnotized by your hands roaming his body. “Just…you intimidate me.”

“Why?” You pout, keeping up the innocent ploy.

“Well, I have all the things you want. Power, the fear of the people, loyal subjects at the palm of your hands. You must be mad at me, babe,” He grips your ass, pulling you closer to him. “Can’t help how good I am? The ladies love an alpha.”

“All those things are true. Especially the part about me being mad. I’m so mad, in fact,” You lean into his ear. “I’d like to punish you.”

Taking his hand, I led him to a private room in the back. I could practically taste the power pouring into me. I was soon going to be queen of Gotham.

When we arrived to the room, I immediately threw him onto the bed earning a surprised chuckle from the trashy douchebag.

“Whoa, honey, I make like it rough but I’m still fragile.” He says looking up at me. I pull out some handcuffs from the drawer nearby, swaying my hips side to side as I walked over to him. I grab his wrists, putting them above his head and locking them to them into place.

I shove a hand down his pocket. “I don’t have any cash on me if that’s what your looking for. Didn’t know this ‘business’ exchange required any compensation.” He smirks.

“No, babe, I’m looking for this,” I show him the magnum. “Gotta have protection, right?” I yank his pants and underwear down his ankles before rolling the condom over his unimpressively average length. I climb over him, sliding down on his length. “Besides, I’ll get all the compensation I need right here.” I whispered, darkly.

I began riding the crime lord, trying to keep myself from rollin my eyes at his insufferable moans. While his mind was occupied by the pleasure, I slowly pull out a dagger from my thigh holster. I knew it’d only be minutes until this was over. Taking my chance, I stab him in the chest as he reached his climax.

I lean over him. “I told you I’d get my compensation.”

His eyes were wide, coughing up blood as he began processing the image of the knife in his chest. “You won’t get away with this. Do you know who I am? I have connections. Fucking cops work under me. You’ll be on a lot of powerful people’s lists. You’ll be dead before you could even step out the door.”

“You’ve underestimated me, Mr. Falcone. Your men, the ones that you brought to protect you, they belong to me now. Those cops you have working for you, mine. Everything is mine now. The power, the fear, the people all mine!” I shout as I continued to stab him over and over. The blood gushing and spraying all over the bed and room. I laugh maniacally, finally reaching my climax from the high of finally winning.

When I’ve had my fill I looked down at my finished product, the crime lord looking barely recognizable. I hop off of him, walking over to the mirror. I smile at my reflection. My tight white dress and hair covered in blood. I resembled Carrie and I absolutely loved the look. This was the look of a new boss.

~~~~

Selina’s POV

“Authorities are saying that the body of Carmine Falcone was found his home on the evening of Saturday. His body was discovered by a dancer and lover who works at his nightclub. It is shocking to see a man like him go down so brutally to say the least but police are doing their best to search for the person or persons responsible. Until then—” Selina switches off the television set.

Her emotions were a mix bag. There was pity, sadness, joy, anger…it was all there. He was her biological father after all. Yet, he was a disgusting piece of shit that left her mother for dead. He was responsible for the death of her former lover, Annika. She wanted to be the one to kill him. Whoever did it stripped her from the right. She was going to find them and kill them. In her twisted form of justice, it would be an indirect way of getting back at her father.

She just needed to know who could have had the balls to carry it out?

~~~~

Bruce’s POV

*Inner monologue*

Y/L/N, Y/F/N. To those on the outside, you were just what they’d call a “girl boss”. An admirable woman with a business mindset. Every man’s dream. But I know women like you. You have a fiery spirit. In the wrong hands, however, that spirit can be deadly.

*end of monologue*

Bruce looked at your file name. You were the perfect match. In your younger days, You had time in and out of the criminal justice system for crimes against men specifically those in power. Now in your late 20s, they’d say you’d had a clean slate every since then. Bruce knew better. While law enforcement turned and looked away at certain things, Bruce took a magnifying glass inspecting the issues further. It’s what made him the best detective in all of Gotham. It’s what made the people believe in Batman.

Club Succubus. That’s the nightclub you owned. You couldn’t have gotten this powerful unless you had to stomp on a lot of toes including your biggest competitor. Bruce figured that instead of going as The Batman, he’d go as himself. That way he’d bait himself as your target. You went after men with money well here he was. Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire, powerful, influential. It was just what you were looking for as your next victim.

~~~

Y/N’s POV

Somehow being at the top just wasn’t enough, I wanted more. I wanted to be bigger. Sure, business was booming and I’ve been running the town sweeping it with fear. Sure, the people were beginning to know my name. But I wanted a challenge.

As if God heard my prayers, in walks Bruce fucking Wayne! Walking into my club?! I didn’t take him for a guy interested in scenes like this. By the look on his face, this was definitely something he’s not into. Maybe he was looking for someone who could teach him the ropes.

I haven’t done much research on the guy so I don’t exactly have him on the list of men I’d like to kill (i call it the MiLK list) but he’s got the money. Who knows if I rock his world enough, I could get him to invest some of his money into my club.

I make my move. I stalk towards him like a predator to its prey. His eyes were on mine and if i’d blinked I would’ve missed the millisecond of lust in them. I reach the man in all black. He was quite gorgeous up close. Electric blue eyes, pink lips, a jawline that was evidence of God’s favor of him. It was the first time anyone had taken my breath away. I quickly recover.

“You’re Bruce Wayne. You’re hardly ever in the public eye. What brings you to a place like this? Looking for some fun?” I tease.

“Business, actually.”

“Really?” I tried burying my excitement as much as I could. Didn’t want to look eager. However, this could be my huge break.

He nods. “Mind if we could go somewhere more quiet to discuss?”

“Y-yes,”I stuttered out, too excited for your mouth to speak. “Right this way.” Just I took him by the arm to lead, a woman in a tight red stops you in your tracks.

“Omg! Have we met before?” She flashes a pearly, white smile at you.

She was gorgeous, soft golden brown skin shimmered under the neon lights. Her lips were red and full. Her eyes carried a look that was sultry yet dangerous. “Not likely. I would’ve remembered a girl like you.”

“My name is Selina. Selina Kyle.” She looks between me and Bruce. “I’d hate to interrupt. I won’t keep you long but I would love if we could go somewhere quiet. Maybe we can catch up.”

I was currently between two very sexy people. This just might work in my favor.

“Sure, we can all go.” I lift my finger in a “come hither” motion. “Follow me.” I lead them down the pink lit hallways. The music and thumping gradually decreasing in sound.

When we’d finally arrived to the room, the moment I’d shut the door. Selina presses me up against it, a knife to my throat. “I know you sent your men after Carmine.”

I laugh. “I didn’t send anyone after Carmine. I killed him myself, sweetie.”

Selina looks at me in shock.

————

Bruce’s POV

Bruce had it all figured out. He’d go to the nightclub in Bruce Wayne persona, knowing you’d bite because you went after rich, powerful men. He’d gather the evidence he’d get from your private room opening the case for the DEA to finally care.

His plan now out the window the moment Selina stepped in. She hadn’t recognized him. Only knowing him as The Batman. Of course she’d do something as reckless as this.

“She really is stubborn.” Bruce thought, gritting his teeth.

Selina continues, the knife still pressed against your neck. “How’d you kill him?”

“I stabbed him a bunch of time with his shrimp dick still inside me. Then I made my men put his body back in his office like it was a regular Sunday. Couldn’t have him rotting in my club. For some big boss guy who fucks anything that moves, he sure sucks at fucking. Didn’t make me cum once. I had to handle myself all on my lonesome,” You say in a teasing, pouty voice. “I think maybe you can change that.”

She presses the blade deeper into the skin, on the verge of breaking skin. “Why’d you do it?”

“Selina, let’s put away the knife. You don’t have to do this.” Bruce speaks up, walking over to the catty women.

Selina ignores him, her eyes still staring intensely at you. You still bore a smirk on your face.

“What’s so fucking funny?” She hisses.

“Are you one of his whores or something? I did you a favor getting rid of him. He was a piece of shit and you know it.”

“I-I was…his daughter.” She fidgets nervously.

“Oh shit,” You scoffed. “You mean, that fucker was your dad. No wonder you want to kill me. You’re avenging father dearest.”

“That’s where your wrong, kitten,” You can feel your pussy begin to throb at the raspy, sensual way she said it. “I wanted to kill him, too. He killed someone I loved. I wanted to do it. I couldn’t. The time wasn’t right. Then, you come in and you take what could’ve been my peace. The only way I can get closure now is if I kill you.”

Selina cuts a small line on your neck. You let out a pained moan that sounded as if you enjoyed it. You can feel that the cut had drawn some blood.

“Selina, it’s not worth it. You’d just be getting yourself in trouble. Then what will this all be for. Avenging the ones you love doesn’t mean having to kill those who’ve wronged you.” Bruce pleads.

This frustrates Selina. She was tired of people telling her what to feel; to do. She turns on her heels pointing the knife in his direction. “I am tired of people—-men… telling me ‘no’. I don’t think I’d want to hear anything more from you.” She points the knife at you. “You! You’ve got handcuffs somewhere around here, don’t you? Get them and cuff him.”

You were about to head over to the draw when she pulls you by the end of your hair. “Actually, you show me what drawer to get them. Don’t want you trying to reach for your handgun of anything.” She winks before pushing away at your head.

“It’s in the first drawer near the bed.” You were honestly fearful for your life. You somehow even felt bad for Bruce who’d only been an innocent bystander.

Selina reaches for the handcuffs also finding the handgun you stored there. “Good thing I went for it myself.” She laughs. Throwing the cuffs for you to catch, she aims the handgun at you.

“Cuff him.”

“What are you doing?” Bruce growls, fuming at this insanity.

She turns the gun to him. “I said I don’t want to hear you.”

Bruce complies understanding he needs to in order to make sure no one gets hurt. He puts his hands out in the front of him.

“Oh no, baby, I want them cuffed to the back. Suit jacket and shirt off, by the way.” Selina demands.

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching before doing what was commanded of him. He pulls off his jacket and shirt revealing his washboard abs. You clipped the cuffs around his wrists. Despite your fear, you were quite turned on. You could feel your panties drench at the situation; Bruce’s half nakedness not helping your state.

“Sit him on that chair.” She flicks the gun over to the royal purple accent chair.

You lead him to his seat. He lowers, looking up between the women. A tent suddenly forming in his slacks.

Selina pushes down at the top of your head. “Down, kitty.”

You obey, falling to your knees in front of Bruce and both your eyes met one another’s.

“I’m sure you know what I want you to do. After all, you like you’ve gone through this plenty of times. So go on.”

“I-I d-dont know what you want.” You stutter out.

“Awww, what happened to the ruthless bitch that had no problem killing my dad? Figure it out. You’re not on your knees to polish his shoes.” She squats to your level, pressing the barrel against your temple.

Bruce looks at you apologetically, only to find that you were completely enjoying this. He’s now convinced that he’s in a room with crazy people.

You bring your hands shakily up to his slacks, unbuttoning and unzipping them. You lower them just enough for you to have access to him boxers. His breath hitches when he feels your fingertips against his bare skin. Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on by all of this. He blames the women for his corruption. He must not be thinking clearly. All he had to do was focus and— his thoughts are interrupted when he feels your hands wrap around his painfully hard member. He bites his lip to keep himself from whimpering. He wasn’t very experienced in the sex department only having had 2 partners because he’s always so busy. Any form of touch was enough to have him panting.

“Look at that fat cock, kitten. He’s so hard,” Selina licks her lips. “Every inch of that will be going down your throat soon. Wanna see you gag on it like a pornstar. Give me a show.” She sits at the edge of the king-sized bed, looking at our direction.

You wouldn’t hesitate any longer. You wanted to taste him. To make him see stars. You make no haste, swirling your tongue around the tip and giving it a fervent suck.

Bruce lets out a shaky moan, his head thrown back against the chair. Selina immediately stands up, strutting over to him, taking him by the hair and forcing him to look down between his legs; at you.

“No. You watch. She’s gonna give a performance of a lifetime so have some decency.”

You smile up at her before turning your attention back to his. Never had you worship a cock the way you would to his. You bring your mouth all the way down his length, letting him hit the back of your throat.

He whines. You can see his restraint to keep quiet. To keep himself from enjoying. You were going to break him. You bob up and down on his length, the suction noises filling the room. You look at him noticing the way his eyes flicked between looking into your face and staring at the way your ample ass swayed side to side in delight.

“Look how happy you made, kitty,” Selina moans, dropping to her knees next to you and tossing the gun a close distance away from her. “I think I’ll have a taste, too.”

The moment Bruce heard that, he knew he’d be a goner. You pull your mouth away, a line of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his dick. Selina cups your face and plants an intimate kiss on your lips. Your tongues massaging each others as she attempts to taste him indirectly through you.

She breaks the kiss. “I think I wanna taste more.” She brings her mouth to his length and licks. You put your mouth back on him as well. Both of your tongues playing with the tip, every now and then your tongues would meet once again. You rubbed your thighs together, hoping to get some friction when you heard him finally begin to moan and tug at his restraints.

“Oh, he likes it,” Selina exclaims. “Don’t you, you little slut?”

He nods, breathing hard.

“It’s rude to nod. Tell us how much you appreciate us sucking your cock.”

“Thank you.” He says through a strained tone.

“For what?”

“For sucking my cock.”

“He’s such a good boy. Isn’t he, kitten?”

“Yes, he is. Maybe we could reward him.” You purr.

The two of you shoot each other a playful look before Selina bobbed her mouth on the thick, curved length while you licked and fondled at the balls. These women were trying to kill him. He was sure of it. Because how could any man survive this kind of bliss. It was all too much.

He’d forgot all restraint and soon he was moaning like a pathetic mess of a man. “Oh god. Please I c-can’t. Too much.”

There was no letting up. You’d both wanted to see him crumbles. His stoic presence soon a shadow of itself. You can feel his testicles begin to tighten. Selina’s mouth off him, jacking him off and staring at him determined. You also remove your mouth to look up at him, your hands rolling and squeezing his balls.

“F-fuck. M-mommy,” He whines pathetically. “Please.”

You and Selina look at each other and smiling deviously. “Ohhh, he’s looking for mommies. Someone missing their mommy? Don’t worry, Brucey. We’ll take real good care of you.” You say, sucking and running my tongue on his tip while Selina continue to jack his length. His body began to tense and you both knew you’d be rewarded with his cum soon.

“Cum for us, pretty boy. We wanna swallow it all for you.” Selina encourages. He lets out a loud drawn out groan, ropes of cum spurt from his dick. Selina and you indulge, licking frantically to make sure no a drop is missed. He shudders against you both, forced to take overload of pleasure. When you were sure you’d gotten everything, you both make your way up to kiss and bite at his neck. You’d taken the key for the handcuff finally freeing him. Bruce takes this opportunity to place a kiss on Selina’s lips then kissed yours, then you and Selina once again. Each deep kiss filled with lots of tongue and saliva.

Selina pulls down your lacy panties and you follow suit removing hers, groping each other’s breasts. The two of you straddle each of Bruce’s thigh, grinding your cores against his grey slacks. He grabs a handful your ass, the other hand pulling down Selina’s top, tweaking at her hardened peaks. All three of you moaning into the atmosphere. You rub two fingers on Selina’s clit as she rode his thigh.

“Oh, fuck right there.” She moans, grinding faster against him. You could tell that his pants would be soak in your arousals but he didn’t seem to care. He just watch intently, moaning at the sight of two beautiful women who were getting off to his thigh alone. You thanked the fact that Bruce’s thigh had been strong enough to carry your weight especially with how forceful your thrusts were. It seemed like he had a thing for thicker girl making sure his hands would feel every part of you.

Selina stops her movements, standing up from his thigh. Both you and Bruce looking at her. “I’m thinking we should move this to the bed. I wanna try some things,” She points at the mattress in front of her. “Y/N, I want you on all fours. Brucey, you’re going to fuck her nice and hard for me. Be as brutal as you like for all I care.”

You obey. It didn’t matter to you that you’d probably be killed or in jail after this. You were going to get what you’ve been craving the moment you’d set eyes on these two. You remove whatever’s left of your clothes before crawling on your hands and knees on the bed.

You bend over enough so that your ass in the air was the main focal point. Selina takes a bottle of oil, lathering your bottom and give you a hard smack. You moan at the contact.

Bruce removes his clothes, on his knees behind you his hard length dangling between thighs like a third leg. “I don’t know if I could do this.” He says, almost innocently.

“All ya gotta do is stick your dick in her. Not rocket science, baby.” She teases, yanking her dress over her head and joining you both on the bed.

He sighs. “No, I mean, this isn’t right. She’s a criminal. We’ve got to turn her in.”

Selina attempts to speak up again, but it was your turn to make your case. You were not going anywhere. Not until you’re ruined by them. “Please fuck me, Brucey,” You groan. You roll your hips back, feeling his dick rubbing between your ass cheeks. “I know I’m bad but all I ask is that you punish me. Take me how you want me. Wreck me from inside with your cock.”

Selina smirks, glancing at Bruce who’s breathing had gotten heavy. “Hear that, sweet boy. She wants it real bad. You can’t be cruel enough to leave her hangin’.”

His large hands pull you rough against him. You squeak at his sudden ferocity, a pool of wetness seeping out of your core. He smacks the heavy manhood against your globes, guiding it to your quiver core. You’d still been sensitive there so when he taps himself at your entrance, you shiver in delight. He prods his tip at the tight hole, letting your folds swallow him in with little effort from him. You both groan simultaneously.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” Selina rubs herself, watching where the two of you met.

Bruce strokes shallowly into your pussy. The light sticky, wet noises filling the silence. You whine needing him to fuck you long and deep. You attempt to fuck back into him, he holds you still by your hips, pulling even more of his length out of you so that only the tip rests.

“Shit, please, I need it.” You sob. You’re practically crying real tears.

Selina pulls his cock from your core. Wrapping her plump lips around the bulbous head. She sucks him deep into her mouth, swishing her tongue around. “She tastes so good,” She pulls off him, easing him back into your cunt. Going behind him, she whispers in his ear. “Go on, baby boy. Fuck her. Make her cum hard.”

As if he’s a robot waiting on the commands of his master, he immediately drive into you. He bottoms out and you swear that he’s made a mess of your guts. He pummels into you, fucking you into the mattress. Your cries bouncing off the walls.

“Fuck, fuck, holy shit.” You were unintelligible. All you could do is curse or say things that you really couldn’t understand. Bruce ramming into you the way a beast ruts into its mate.

Selina could feel herself dripping with anticipation. She couldn’t wait to take his cock next but first she’s like to focus her attention all on you. Bringing your face up from the mattress, your tongues meet in a passionate kiss. Bruce takes your arms crossing them behind your back, pinning them down with one hand. Now your body’s sandwiched between Bruce powerfully thrusting into you and Selina who’d kiss you in a way that made your toes curled.

She snakes a hand down to rub your sensitive nub. You gasp, grinding into her hand. When you moved forward, you’d feel her aggressively flicking at it and when you’d moved back, his cock would nudge the deepest parts of you. It was an overload of pleasure you’d never experienced.

“Fuck me now,” Selina says, lying on her back. Bruce pulls out of you, using your juices to slide in with ease into her. She moans, licking her lips. “Oh my god, baby. You’re so big. You’re splitting me in two. I can see why my little kitten over there was screaming for her life.”

Bruce leverages himself up with his hands, angling his hips the right way to hit into her core from the side. She throws her head back and bites her lip feeling the thrusts getting more desperate. You squeezed your thighs together, wanting to get rid of the ache. She opens her eyes and notices. “Aww, kitten, I didn’t forget about you. Come here and ride my face.”

Your eyes light up. You hover your slick coated core over her face turned so that you were in the 69 position and facing Bruce. Selina gets to work, licking and sucking at your pussy the way she did when she kissed you. You ground against her face, looking at Bruce with half-lidded eyes. You grip him by the neck and he groans. You pull him forward for a kiss, mimicking the movements of Selina’s tongue but in his mouth. His thrusts causing you to bounce along with them.

He plucks at your hardened nipple then lowers his lips to them sucking and twisting each bud. Both of their tongues caressing your body. You felt so lucky. Maybe Selina has already killed you and you’d gone to heaven. Or a fun ass hell.

“Lick that sweet pussy.” Bruce growls.

He pushes your head down so that you were in between Selina’s legs watching his cock moving in and out of it. Her juices messy all over his cock and her inner thighs. You stick your tongue out, flicking between her clit and tasting his length sloshing around inside her.

“Oh, fuck! You both are so fucking good. So perfect.” Selina cries out, sticking a finger in you and pumping. You fuck back into her fingers. With one hand still on the back of your head, the other smacks your ass.

The room filled with each other your moans and whines. You were sure anyone who’d accidentally walk in would blush but most likely stay for the show. It was sinful, filthy, it was so fucking hot!

“I’m gonna cum.” Bruce groans.

“Me too.” Selina moans, curling her finger and touching the soft button deep in you.

“Oh my god.” You can feel the coil building up more and more. The pressure almost scaring you at how much it was building. Bruce pulls out of Selina shoving himself into your mouth and bobbing your head up and down. You swallow and suck around him. The same time he cums down your throat is the same time Selina decides to give you the hardest orgasm of your fucking life. You scream into the air, frantically rubbing at her flowery bud.

She quakes and shivers underneath you. You lick at her core until she eventually clamps her thighs around your head from other stimulation. “Holy shit.” She laughs, her head feeling light from the shattering of her world.

You roll off of her and the three of you laid on your back, staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily. You can taste the remnants of them on your tongue; a reminder of your time with them.

You propped yourself up on your elbows. “So I’m guessing you’ll be turning me in to the authorities. It’s fine, though. I got all I needed anyway.”

“No, I think I’ll keep you, kitten. You’ll be my little play toy. What do ya think, Brucey? Should we keep her?” She bats her eyes at the blissed out man.

He groans. “Is that really appropriate?”

“Yes.” Selina smiles at you and you smile back.

You turn over to the brooding sex symbol. “I can make it worth your while, Brucey,” You kiss and suck at his neck. “I promise you I won’t be bad. I’ll be so good for you.”

Selina joins in, attacking at the other side of his neck. Bruce isn’t sure if he believes either of the women, but with their hands running ever so softly over his body, he can’t say he wouldn’t try.

91 notes · View notes

sukirichi · 3 years

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good girl (m.)

You’re such a good wife to Naoya that he rewards you for your obedience.

request. naoya coming home to his beloved little housewife and feels like giving her a treat for being such a good girl.,,.,, read: man’s gonna re-arrange your guts and have some soft moments with you after (not that he would ever admit that shsghshsj)

cw. explicit smut, riding, dirty talk WITH praising bcos why not, dom! husband naoya, sexism, overstimulation, creampie, lots of kissing, titty sucking, you might end up liking naoya and that’s a warning

note. LISTEN. this is purely self indulgent even if this is a request. my bestie requested this to me anyway so ik she won’t mind i pictured myself as the reader :) so if you don’t like how the reader and naoya was portrayed, that’s a you problem :) EDITED BECAUSE IT’S NAOYA YAY, also got inspired by @caizen ‘s ask about naoya wanting his wife to not bow too deep because he wants to see her face :)

[part of the trophy wife collection]

Being Naoya Zen’in’s trophy wife required a lot of things. You had to be immaculate, précised, refined and full of dignity in everything you did. He already did the work all by himself just to keep the house running, his hard work the only reason you were able to live such a comfortable, luxurious life. On top of that, you had an extremely powerful man trusting you to welcome him every night, and who were you to not fulfill your duty as his wife well?

The moment the black limousine parked on the driveway, the guards lined on duty opening the doors of him and the rest of the house staff greeting him, you were already in front of everyone.

Keep your head down, but don’t look too hard at your feet. Naoya-sama wants to see your face – his lovely wife’s face – upon his arrival.

He would never say it out loud, but five years and counting of marriage with him meant you knew him better than anyone. Through his confident and arrogant self, Naoya worried about a lot of things, you included. There were times he’d wake up in the middle of a nightmare in which he lost you, his arms scrambling to find your body to press it against his for reassurance. You were there, you would always be there, but the confirmation never hurt.

You bowed down to him, skin cleared, cheeks flushed, and lips glossy – all telltales of a happy, nurtured wife who was well taken care of – present before him. And you were beautiful too; the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid his eyes on.

“Welcome home, Naoya-sama.”

Naoya’s shoulders immediately relaxed at the sight of you dressed in your yukata, hair done perfectly and hands clasped politely in your lap. He tried not to let it show too much though, even though his staff had watched him grow up, he needed to keep his pride as the clan leader. Not even his precious wife could make him tear down his walls in public, though you did not need to worry about his brash attitude, following him inside three steps behind as he’d instructed.

He loosened his tie and dismissed the other servants, locking the door of your shared room. “Is my tea prepared?”

“Yes, Naoya-sama, mixed with jasmine just as you like.”

Naoya’s hands stilled on his tie. His gaze fluttered over yours, eyes still ducked down to the floor with a small smile playing on your lips, one that said welcome home in more ways than one.

The sight of you – so compliant and meek as ever – stirred something deep within his heart. His whole life, he believed women were useless, creatures that were below him. Until now, he held firm in that, but fuck, you were always so open and willing to do everything he asked that he could feel himself hardening in his pants. Women may be useless, but once they followed his orders and praised him so heavenly the way you did?

He fucking loved it.

Naoya’s tie went flying the other room, his cock swelling in his pants as he tugged you by your wrist. You landed on the mattress behind you, watching with a heaving chest as your husband crawled above you. His gaze felt predatory, dark eyes hooded with lust while he planted his knees beside your waist, his fingers looped with yours.

You smiled sweetly up at him, so temptingly sweet his resolve broke for a split second. He captured your lips to taste you on him, the sounds of your husband’s satisfied hum making your chest puff out with pride.

Everyone may look down on you for marrying such a ‘horrible’ man like him, calling you stupid and immoral, even going as far as claiming you were nothing but a dumb cock-hungry slut, but Naoya – even you – knew better. You were not foolish; in fact, no one could handle Naoya’s attitude better than you did, and you were smart enough to keep buying that strawberry flavored lip balm he loved so much, causing your husband to squeeze your palms.

“Good girl,” he mumbled absentmindedly, the praises shooting heat flush to your core. “You’re so good for me, you know that?” he peppered kisses all over your skin, a gesture so rare that you were panting underneath him, resisting the urge to rub your legs together.

Naoya was extremely skillful in bed, his virility as a man not to be looked down on for his ability to render you immobile to walk, throat sore and voiceless for a few days truly impressive. But he was different today; his usual tight grip the same but laced with a want that went beyond than lust. You could never say it out loud, especially not around him, but it was clear – Naoya treated you with affection and care.

“I’m very lucky to have found such a submissive woman like you, but that’s not true is it? Women like you aren’t found, you’re trained,” he harshly tugged the first layers of your yukata to the side, exposing the sensitive flesh of your collarbone that was free for him to mark. “Have I trained you well, my wife?”

“Yes, Naoya-sama, trained me so good,” you rasped out, bringing your legs forward, only for it to bump against the sides of his waist.

Naoya sucked on your skin until he was sure he’d completely marked his territory, the grazing sensation of his teeth so erotic and passionate along with his clothed cock rubbing into your folds. His hand trailed down your waist, yanking the ties of your clothes apart. You gasped as he teasingly rubbed your clit, even going as far as to roll it between his strong fingers. “For you, ah, I’d do anything for you, Naoya-sama.”

“It’s my love when we’re in the sheets,” he corrected you, “When a woman knows her place and obeys me so well, a good girl like you deserves to be rewarded,” hearing your small whines at his words, Naoya chuckled at your skin. “Do you want that? Want me to make you feel good?”

“Yes, p-please, I need you,” you moaned wantonly, gathering the courage to lift your hips up and grind it against his erection. He surprised you by not pushing you away, so you kept going, slathering your wetness all over the front of his pants. “Fuck me, my love, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Naoya smirked, standing up to rid himself of his pants and belt. You whined at the loss of contact and sat up on your elbows, legs spread wide open as you feasted on the delectable way he discarded his clothing one by one. His fat cock, red and flushed with pre-cum, slapped against his toned upper body.

You would’ve groaned at his bare beauty, but he’d already crawled on top of you once more, completely ridding you of the multiple layers of modest clothing you wore, revealing a redolent set of white lace.

Naoya narrowed his eyes at the nearly transparent thong, his hands cupping your seeping cunt with a low hum. “Is this for me? Did my pretty baby get dressed up for me?” you nodded eagerly, pathetically reaching upwards to wrap your arms around him. You were growing needy, soft yet desperate as your stuttered gasps hovered on his ear. “Were you thinking of me the whole time I was away for work?”

“I always think of you, my love,” you breathed out, “Your smile, your voice, your lips, your hands,” legs twitching, you dared run your knee to brush his forearm, the teasing and confident movement earning you a seductive, warning glare from your dominant husband. But oh – you were just starting to have your fun. “Your cock inside me.”

“Naughty little girl,” he snickered, grabbing your hand and shoving it deep inside your panties. That evoked a high-pitched moan from you as your nails grazed against your shaved pussy, Naoya’s smirk present the harder he pressed your palm on yourself. “Did you touch yourself? Pleasure yourself like this?” He was testing you, reminding you of his power and authority, trying to see if you would break his rules that he’d been so firm into fucking deep into your skull.

Naughty as you might be sometimes, you never forgot your place. You were daring, but never in your wildest dreams would you dare go against him. Not because you were plain weak and submissive, but simply because the thought of pleasing him more and feeding his ego was far more satisfying.

You shook your head, pitiable tears already shining through. “N-no, I would never. Only you can make me feel good, just you, mmh.”

Naoya groaned deep in his throat, satisfied at your answer. “You’re always so sweet for me,” he says, leaning over to knee your legs open wider. He situated himself between your body, slow and sensual in removing your bra and panties, the lacy material disappearing somewhere on the black marbled floors. You laid there, vulnerable and wanting, clutching at his biceps as he grinded his cock on your puffy folds. “Have I ever told you’re the perfect little wife? So fucking needy for me always, fuck. This pussy was made for me.”

“This pussy is yours,” you acquiesced, breathing hard when Naoya pulled away to peer at your body. He liked his wife to be healthy, strong and ready to carry his child whenever he wanted, and his hands squeezed your hips appreciatively.

“I exist purely to serve you, my love,” you vowed, “I have no other purpose than to make you feel good and love you. You’re my everything, the world and more.”

He’d looked at you with lust before, the desire pooling in his eyes always making you feel wanted, but this was different. Naoya would never let those cursed three words fall from his mouth, but it shone clearly in his eyes anyway. He gazed at your curves and dips so lovingly that your arousal peaked, slick coating his cock from where he was slowly teasing your cunt with his tip.

Unable to hold back any longer, Naoya flipped you over. Your breath knocked out from your chest at the sudden movement, his hands tugging at your wrist to pull you close to him. He leant back on the bed, kissing you feverishly all the while keeping you shaking on his thigh. Due to your wetness gushing, you slid down his muscular thigh, and you moaned at the contact. “As I should be,” Naoya nibbled at your lips, his harsh words contrasting the tenderness of his hold on you. “You’re nothing to me if you can’t even do something as simple as that.”

You nodded with no hesitation, fully accepting that you were purely his now – and you would honestly not have it otherwise.

Naoya helped you lift your hips up, shushing you with a slap on your ass when you stared at him nervously.

Every time Naoya fucked you, he was direct and simple. He preferred to have you on all fours where he could focus on his own pleasure, or sometimes he would rather cum upon seeing your fucked-out face, the image of your tongue lolled out while he fucked you on oblivion enough to make him nut right away.

But now he was guiding your arms around his neck, kissing the sides of your lips as if to answer your silent questions. “Sit on my cock, baby, I’ll reward you for your obedience tonight,” he said, his cock twitching as he directed your entrance right above his cock. Naoya slid you down, allowing you to feel inch by inch, thick vein upon one another – sliding inside you and stretching you out so good. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead on his, teeth locked on your bottom lip as he bottomed out.

Fuck, you’d never felt so full.

However, Naoya wasn’t pleased. He clenched his jaw and tapped your bottom lip, scolding you with his mean glare. “Don’t hold back when you scream my name, you understand? Cherish this moment – I won’t always care about your pleasure. You should thank me for this.”

“I-I will!”

Torturous. That was how you would describe it. You had never been this close to him before; not in this position and angle. Each lift of your hips caused your hardened nipples to brush over his muscular chest, his attention sorely focused on the way you bounced on his cock.

Something about holding him this close felt so intimate, breaths tangled and moans shared, along with the pleasure delivered into your bodies with the way you were rolling your hips along his length.

“Still so fucking tight for me,” he said through gritted teeth, “I love this pussy so much, fuck, you’re mine. Just mine, all mine,” Naoya eventually lost it, hooking his arms under your armpits and feet flat on the bed. You kept screaming his name like a prayer, the worship falling from your lips like a broken record driving him to fuck into you faster. He’d had enough of your pace; he’d been good enough that now it was his turn to fuck you, and you were glad he did because his fast, brutal pace was so mind-numbing.

Naoya hitched you up higher until your chin rested above his hair, your breasts right at his mouth. He sucked and bit at the soft flesh angrily, grip so tight on your hips you were hissing from the pain. At the same time, it felt so fucking good unlike everything you’ve ever felt.

“My perfect fucking wife—a quiet, compliant wife is worth more than gold, baby. You’re my fucking treasure.”

Naoya thrusted hard and deep until the bed was creaking, mattress dipped from both your weight. The room felt so foggy with your lovemaking and you tightened around him, crying as he kept hitting that sensitive spot that had you seeing stars. “I’m c-coming!” you whined helplessly, hugging your husband deep to your chest while your fingers tugging at his hair. “Naoya, please!”

“Then come for me,” he nibbled at your ear, delivering another hard slap at your ass. “I’m allowing you to. Come. Make a mess around me.”

“Oh my gosh, ugh, fuck,” you came around him hard, your orgasm making you shake. He still wasn’t done, but his breathless murmurs of close, I’m so close had you holding him tighter, whispering dirty words in his ear to assist your husband into reaching his high. The oversensitivity of him plowing into you even after you came was too much, but you took it all like the good wife you were. Biting the protests down at your tongue, you rode him to meet his hips thrust by thrust, his balls snapping at your ass. “Mmmh, I love you, I love you. I-I love you.”

“As you should, baby. You’re supposed to love me,” Naoya devoured your mindless babbling by sliding his tongue inside your mouth, his hips stilling inside for a moment. Fingers clutching desperately to him, you shut your eyes tight, cunt dripping as Naoya spilled his seed deep inside you.

You kissed him one last time in refusal to let go, but Naoya wasn’t having any of it. He was very iffy every after sex that you had no choice but to pull away from him, wincing as he pulled out.

He stumbled into the bathroom afterwards while you laid there on the soiled sheets, weakly fisting the pillow beneath you. You were so fucked out, tired after a long day of managing everything he wanted you to take care of. To be fucked good by your husband…there was truly no better way of life.

Just as you were drifting off, you felt something damp sliding over your inner thighs. You blinked sleepily at a silent Naoya, sending him a small smile as he wiped both your cum away. He left the towel inside the bathroom before he came back, sliding his white shirt over your frame and tugging a fresh pair of his boxers to your legs. Aftercare with Naoya…while it wasn’t impossible, it also wasn’t a daily occurrence. Your heart kept fluttering inside your chest, that feeling blooming harder when he slid under the sheets beside you, his strong arms pulling you taut in his chest.

His skin remained mark free. You knew Naoya hated being marked; reminding you all the time he wanted to be flawless. You respected that and pressed a deep kiss on the spot above his heart instead, madly and hopelessly in love as you traced circles on his bare chest.

You could stay like this forever, in the warmth and safety of your husband’s arms, but you still had wifely duties to fulfill. Naoya had already done his, prompting you to lean up to trace kisses at his sharp jaw, sweet and docile as ever as you asked, “Naoya…how was work today?”

“Same as usual.”

That meant he didn’t want to talk about it, so you didn’t pry further.

“You need to rest and regain your strength so you can work hard again tomorrow,” you mumbled sleepily, “I’ve already planned your meals for the next week. We’re going plant-based for a while, you need it.”

Naoya remained silent. You would’ve assumed he’d fallen asleep if it wasn’t for his hand caressing your back in a manner so gentle that seemed so alien with him, the strangeness of it all intensified when you looked up at his face, only to see that he had already been studying your features a long time before. There was an unsettled frown on his face, one that you tried to smoothen away with the pads of your fingertips. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve already forgotten about all my worries. They don’t matter anymore,” he whispered, his voice way too soft. It fit the atmosphere, however, whatnot with the newfound intimacy that you basked in. Suddenly, Naoya cupped your cheek, utterly serious as he croaked out, “Baby.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you love me?”

You didn’t have to think twice about it. The answer would be – “Always and forever.”

However, Naoya wasn’t satisfied. He needed more, wanted to understand more, craved to find a logical reason behind your devotion to him.

“Why?” he demanded, “What is it about me you love so much?”

“Everything,” you confessed, the love so clear in your eyes that even for a small moment, Naoya felt like he understood now. “You’re perfect to me, Naoya. I’m glad you’re the one I’m spending my life with. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

“But why?”

“Because,” you giggled, “You’re handsome, you’re caring even if you don’t show it that much, you’re smart, ambitious, hardworking and the best husband I could ask for,” Naoya opened his lips, probably to ask a stupid why again, until you cut him off, silencing your odd husband with a kiss. Thankfully, Naoya gave in, relaxing at your touches. “Loving you is second nature to me. It’s not living if it’s not loving you.”

Although he didn’t – and would never say I love you – he had his own way of expressing it. He let you know that he shared the same stance at you, staring deep into your eyes while he cupped your cheek, surprisingly somber as he proudly said, “I made the right decision of marrying you.”

“I’m glad you don’t regret it.”

“I could never regret it,” he whispered back, but you had already fallen asleep. That night, you dreamt no more. There was no need to when everything you’ve ever wanted was already right there at your reach, and Naoya joined you long after, the faint linger of a loving kiss a husband only ever gave to his wife the last thing you felt before you faded off into dreamland.

5K notes · View notes

foli-vora · 3 years

Text

danger! high voltage

A/N: So uh, I don’t know. I thought my threesome lactation fic was the filthiest thing I’ve written but uh... this might take the birthday cake. Absolute fucking filth. It’s all my favourite things, and some fun extras, thrown into one long ass piece with my newly favourite 6′2 military himbo as a present to myself so... happy birthday me lmao. ENJOY ANGELS!

Dedicated to the ever wonderful @charnelhouse

Pairing: Rick Flag x metahumanf!reader

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: swearing, obs it me. THE SUICIDE SQUAD SPOILERS (a few scenes from the movie but nothing detailed) SMUT 18+ ONLY. Jesus okay—slight dom/brat vibes, fingering, hand job, electro stimulation, oral sex (f receiving), titty lovin’ (rough handling/pinching/biting), choking, spanking, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, overstimulation, hair pulling, semi public sex, spitting, anal play/fingering, creampie, cum eating... (if I’ve missed anything, let me know!)

I blame this on the yellow tee + cowboy hat combo. Also, this is my first time with Rick and the DCEU so uh... sorry lmao.

+++

Fucking yellow.

Yellow.

And eight sizes too small—not that you were complaining. It was the stupid hat that was doing it, though. Why did it look so fucking good? You find yourself tossing up what you prefer, the stupid hat and tee combo or the downright delicious vision you were greeted with when you found him—

Before. It was hard to feel remorseful for the unnecessary… brutality unleashed on the camp when he’s walking around like… well, like that. A damn treat. You should put in a word with Waller—no more shirts for Flag, and you’ll do whatever fucking bizarre mission she throws at you no questions asked.

“Colonel,” you greet with a sarcastic little two fingered salute when he’s in ear shot, eyes flicking over his bare torso with a lick of your lips. “Lookin’ good.”

It’s all playful. It wasn’t the first time you’d had Flag on a mission, and poking him was something you’d taken an extreme liking to. He was a good sport about it—not like the other toffee nose higher ups that were too good for a bit of harmless banter. He wasn’t above chuckling at one of your shit jokes, or accepting comments about his appearance with a polite nod of thanks.

Now is apparently not one of those times. He shifts, brows pulling together into an almost apologetic wince and the resistance lady beside him whirls on you. She scoffs in what seems like disgust, eyes narrowing sharply at you before she breezes past without a word.

Your gaze follows her before you blink in surprise, turning on him in question. “What?”

“Not really the best time.” Flag mutters, eyes falling on the blood and bodies scattered around the camp.

You frown defensively, following his line of sight. “Well I didn’t do that.”

He levels you with a look that just screams ‘bullshit’ and you grin, yielding with a little shrug.

“I didn’t do all of that. I did that, and that one… and those over—you know what? It doesn’t matter. It was a team effort and, I for one, think we should be commended on such a great execution of teamwork.”

You let your comments settle in the humid air before snorting, back of your hand slapping softly against his bare chest. Damn. Firm.

“Get it? Execution? I saw that smile, Flag, don’t fuck with me.”

Current. —it shouldn’t look as good as it does. On anyone else, it would be fucking ridiculous. It does look ridiculous, you decide. He just… fucking pulls it off. You follow him into the club, warming when he pauses to let you walk ahead, his palm firm and hot on the low of your back as he guides you along.

A greedy hand lands on your wrist, dragging you towards the dance floor, and you’re sneering into the face of a complete stranger, uncaring as his hands falls from you while he gives a shout of pained surprise, hand raw and blistered from the currents you had just delivered to him.

You miss Flag’s own curl of his lips, his eagle eyes watching the man all but run away clutching his skin. Though you often called your… talents boring, him recalling you pouting about not being able to throw lightning bolts or mess with the city grids, they came in handy. You were like a mini taser, delivering just enough shock to kill, to be useful in the field—to Waller, anyway. He was just happy to have you on his team, zaps or not.

“Here’s to being alive in three hours!”

You snort, but raise your glass anyway, grin wide as it knocks softly with the others. Conversation flows with the more drinks that come to the table, giggling at Polka Dot Man’s adorably lame jokes, dancing in your seat when Sebastian crawls up your arm and starts to look like he was throwing his little furry arms up in the air to the music, Cleo cooing into your shoulder about how he likes you.

The group eventually parts, and your smile is easy as you watch the team on the dance floor, heart surprisingly warm considering they were complete strangers and only knowing them a short while. They were nice. They deserved a little fun, a little respite. You stick to the table with Flag, content with his company for what could be the last time.

“You can’t handle it.” He grins, head tilting as he appraises you from across the table and you suddenly can’t remember the topic of conversation, mind racing to catch up.

Something had been building around the table, the air slowly getting thicker, and while you originally thought it was just the night getting humid, you think maybe not the more his gaze falls to rest on the neckline of your stupid little sundress the resistance lady all but threw at you.

You didn’t mean to kill her men—it was like she’s never heard of a mistake. Christ.

Despite the low flames of attraction that had been burning for Flag for an almost ridiculous amount of time, indignation flares within your chest and you straighten in challenge. “I can handle anything.”

He huffs, lips lifting into a grin and then his eyes find you from under the rim of that stupid fucking hat, something stirring in them that had your stomach falling to the fucking floor, heart lodged and beating heavily in your throat.

“Could you handle me, sweetheart?”

What? He did not just say that.

Fucking—

“Any day, Flag.” You return confidently, resting against the back of the booth while your fingers run along the smooth bottle, tips collecting the small beads of condensation and smearing them across the glass as you tilt your head. “But the question is, cowboy… could you handle me?”

His tongue runs along his bottom lip and you follow the movement with darkening eyes, his low drawl soon following, “I’d like to find out.”

Shit yes. “...would now be out of the question?”

You can see he thinks about it, eyes falling to his watch before moving to survey your surroundings, to where the team are all dotted about and then he stands, smirking curling his lips into a charming little half grin. “We’ve got time.”

There’s a line for both bathrooms, and by the looks of the many couples interlocked in the queues, you weren’t the only ones in need of some privacy. Flag pauses, eyes quickly looking around before he rams his shoulder against a locked door to the right of him, grin wide as it gives in easily under his strength and then you’re being ushered in.

He keeps there, face lingering so fucking close, almost teasingly so as he backs you into the room and kicks the door shut behind him. It rattles violently against the frame, a bit splintered from the violent entry but otherwise stays firmly shut, and finally you’re alone.

It’s a managers office, or something along those lines, with filing cabinets and a sturdy looking metal desk sat in front of blind covered windows you assume looked out over the bar. You see it all from your peripheral, but worry you’ll break whatever fucking trance Flag’s thrown over you if you break eye contact for even a second.

“You sure about this?”

“Are you?” You fire back, brows raising.

Unspoken words hang between you before something in the air just snaps, the both of you meeting in the middle in a messy kiss, uncaring when teeth clash in your hurry to get to the other or when the stupid hat knocks against your forehead, hands moving to grab whatever they could on the other. You’re stumbling back and soon feel the dig of the desks edge along your thighs and hop onto the surface, legs widening for him to step in between.

A hand cups and tilts your face, thumb brushing along your jaw before moving down, fingers slipping the small buttons of your dress through their loops before your chest is bared to hungry hands, rough palms sliding along your heated skin and tugging at the cups of your bra until it slides enough out of the way for your tits to be bared to the warm air.

The hands that move in on the flesh start soft, but soon turn harsh when his fingers pinch and pluck at your nipples, your quiet groan of approval at the rough handling encouraging more aggression, and you arch further into the touch when he pinches and twists them slightly, your gasp eagerly being swallowed by the hungry mouth working against yours.

Eager to play, your hands dive for his pants and dive in, humming in appreciation when you find nothing more in the way of your pursuit of feeling him as your fingers wrap around his hard cock and pull him free from his pants.

The low moan that reverberates into your mouth when your hand starts to move is downright fucking sinful, and you chase more of them as your thumb swipes along the weeping head of his cock, smearing the bead of precum along his skin before reclaiming your grip, free hand falling to gently massage his balls.

A thought hits you in your haze of being swept away by his glorious fucking mouth fighting against yours, and you briefly wonder if it’s something you should try. It’s something you’ve done before, practised and perfected to not burn any skin, just enough energy to deliver some fun little surprises.

You keep it light, barely there. A little shock—nothing too noticeable, but it’s enough to make his mouth stutter against yours, and your eyes snap open to watch the twitch of his brows with a small wave of amusement. His eyes stay closed as you pull away, but the frown remains, deepening when you repeat the zap through your palm, only just a little stronger this time.

“What—”

You hush him softly, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and sucking on it softly. “Relax.”

“Fuckin’, Jesus—” He jolts in your arms at another longer, little zap, bucking into your grip, and you laugh sweetly against the hot skin of his throat, tongue sliding along and tasting the tang of sweat and dirt hanging there.

“Not quite, cowboy. Think you could handle a little more?”

You move at his nod, keeping your grip tight as you jerk him while every now and then delivering little shocks, ranging in length and intensity. He likes it. You know by the way his frown twitches, the way his eyes crease along the edges...

“Shit wait, I-I’m gon—”

Like hell he was going to disappoint—

Scoffing quietly, you tighten your grasp and smirk slyly up at him, lashes fluttering. “‘Wait’? But this is what I want. Cum for me—Colonel.”

One last sharp zap, mixed with your sultry coo of his title and unforgiving jerks of your hand, rip through him and he buckles in your hold, face crumbling as his high crashes over him in unforgiving waves. You chuckle softly against his lips as he floods your fingers in heavy spurts, his cum hot and sticky as it catches under your touch and slides along his cock.

You keep going, even as he softens in your hold, squeezing and milking him until he’s spasming, his hands quickly landing on your arms in a firm plea for relief. Pulling your hand away, you keep your gaze locked with his darker one as your tongue moves across your palm and hungrily along your fingers, sweeping up the streaks of his cum left on your skin with an appreciative hum that has his eyes narrowing.

He drops, knees hitting the floor while his hands fight with the hem of your dress, soft fabric slipping through his grip in his hurry to get it the fuck out of his way. The dress survives, but your panties don’t—the stitches holding the seams of cotton together tearing as he rips them down your legs, his teeth clenching in irritation when they catch over your calves.

“Easy, cowboy.” You coo down at him, slipping back to rest on an elbow as your licked fingers flick the rim of the hat playfully.

He huffs softly in amusement, breath fanning over your exposed pussy and you shift on the table, legs widening further. You flood with heat the longer he stares, so deliciously open and exposed all for him. Fingers dance along the inside of your thigh, drawing steadily closer until they ghost over your glistening folds, up and down, teasing in their movements while you whine impatiently.

“You’re a fuckin’ pretty little thing.” He murmurs in his low drawl, eyes flashing up to meet yours, fingers parting and smoothing along your slick pussy until his fingers zero in and circle your swollen clit. “You want more, baby?”

“Stupid question.” You huff sarcastically, lips twitching when he grins.

“You and that smart fuckin’ mouth.”

His fingers move away from your clit and push into your wet pussy, curling deeply against your walls and patiently searching, probing, until he finds that sweet little spot that makes your thighs twitch. A hum of victory and then he’s moving forward, open mouth hot and heavy as it lands on your pussy, tongue lapping where his fingers disappear into you before hungrily gliding up and rolling against your clit with a quiet groan, that stupid fucking hat knocking and rubbing along your lower stomach, hindering your view of him.

Lips lock around the nerve and then he sucks on it sharply, tongue flicking unforgivingly over the surface while his fingers start up, steadily thrusting deeply and continuously hitting something so fucking good you feel yourself hurtled halfway to a peak already.

“Fucking h—” your sentence evaporates into a sharp gasp, head falling back while his mouth works you over, his fingers moving with lewd squelches as his tongue and fingers work your pussy harder. You can’t help but grind into it, pushing back against his fingers and face as something deep in your core starts to churn and twist, tightening with every rabid flick of his tongue and curl of his digits.

He feels it coming, can feel the way your thighs start to spasm and shake where they hang and cradle his face. It pushes him harder, something in him desperate to see what sounds your smart mouth makes when you’re completely shaking from pleasure he surrounds you with, drowns you in.

Your breathless chant of fuck, fuck, fuck reaches its peak when you do and, for a split second, everything hangs in a timeless void and you float hazily between stars, mind wiping clean with no knowledge of where when how, before a flare of heat explodes in your core and you come violently crashing down with a dizzying cry that has his ears ringing.

He feels the buzz of your powers through your system as you shatter, a pleasant charge moving through his fingertips as fluid gushes around his fingers and coats his chin. Your pussy clenches violently around nothing as he rips his fingers away and locks his hands around the tops of your thighs, fingers unforgiving as they dig into your flesh, dragging you tightly against his mouth before his tongue buries itself in your pussy, coaxing your body to give him fucking everything—

It throws you into the heights of another, prolonging the ecstasy already pounding through your veins and twisting it into something deeper, stronger, the depths of it reaching out and curling over you, clawing at the backs of your eyes until tears form and spill down your cheeks. Whatever spills out of your mouth is jumbled and incoherent. A mixture of pleas, voice mewling coos of more, p-please, so so fucking close—

Blackness overtakes the edges of your vision as you outright implode, a flow of charged energy shooting from your hand as it knocks against the desk lamp and shatters the glass to complete pieces, your body twisting and arching and shaking on the desk as he still keeps going, mouth hungrily taking the fresh wave of arousal that coats his tongue, content to stay exactly where he was and push you to your fucking limits.

You ride it out, voice breaking into pleading little whimpers the longer he stays locked against you, ravaging every little gush and twitch until he breaks away with a ragged gasp of his own, chest heaving as his tongue runs along his lips, back of his hand catching whatever his tongue doesn’t.

Panting towards the ceiling, your lips twitch into a well-fucked little smirk, voice breathless, “I underestimated you, Flag.”

He grunts, standing and stretching his tall frame over you, briefly pausing to lick and bite at both of your tender nipples before continuing up until his face is mere inches from yours, eyes fiery. “For once, just shut your fuckin’ mouth.”

Your mouth opens to deliver a sharp retort, but fingers are shoving their way in before a single word can even form. The tangy taste of your arousal floods your mouth and you moan lowly, lips wrapping tightly around his fingers, tongue dancing along his calloused skin as he slides them softly in and out, watching the way your lips thicken and pucker with his leisurely strokes.

The challenge swirls in your eyes, and it’s ultimately your sly little eyebrow curl that has his fingers pushing deeper until they’re down your throat, your brows creasing while a whine falls from your throat as you fight off the urge your muscles have to contract and flex around the intrusion.

“You’d take my cock so well.” He mutters in quiet admiration, grinning at your little mhm of excitement. “Not today, sweetheart.” Lips press against your temple in a silent apology when you make a noise of complaint, running soft open mouth kisses along your skin until he hovers just next to your stretched lips. “I know. One day—just not today.”

His fingers slip from your mouth, a string of saliva spilling across your chin, and then his mouth is over yours, open and breathless as he coaxes your tongue to move along his. You knock the damn hat off his head, tangling your fingers in the short dirty blonde hair at the nape of his neck before tugging it, ripping his mouth away from yours and letting your lips breeze over his with a teasing coo.

“Fuck me, Flag.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

His hand disappears between you, rubbing the head of his thick cock against your sensitive clit and then moving, probing your still fluttering pussy and sinking in, face dropping to bury into your shoulder. He’s tender, hips careful in their strokes, almost testing the waters before he pulls away to check, eyes flickering over your face. Finding no pain or discomfort, he thrusts forward, hips meeting yours with a violent slam that has the breath leaving your lungs in a sharp gasp—

“Hold on.”

You almost want to scoff, but then he’s moving. Your hands scramble to find purchase on something, anything, while he drills into you, ramming so fucking hard into your pussy you start to slide up on the desk and away from the fury of his hips.

This apparently starts to annoy him after only a minute, his body ripping away from yours with a snarl before hands are grabbing your hips and dragging you up and off the desk, spinning you around and letting your front slam against the metal top, dress soon being flung over your ass and leaving you spread and on display.

A sharp slap rings around the room and you yelp in slight surprise as your ass cheek starts to throb with the immediate after effects of the strike, skin tingling with a thousand little bites. Your eyes find his over your shoulder and he grins darkly, smug, rough fingers digging in and massaging the tender flesh.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

You smirk in return, shaking your hips ever so slightly against his touch, “Oh? Is that all you got, Colonel?”

The next is much harder, your toes curling in your boots as his palm lands harshly on your ass, your lungs barely getting a full inhale before his cock is pushing into you again, your pussy clenching around him when he aims another two to match on the other cheek. You feel his palms against your skin, squeezing and pulling at your ass cheeks and you know he’s spreading you to watch where his cock disappears, engulfed by the wet heat of your pussy as he starts to move.

It’s not long until the brutal pace is back and he abandons the little show in favour of keeping you pressed against the desk, large hand resting on your head as he tears into you, urged on by the moans you make when he hits that borderline painful limit within you. Your pussy coaxes him back in greedily every time he pulls back, and he’s weak to fight the pull of it, eyes slipping shut as workers harder, pouring weeks of pent up irritation and anger into his thrusts.

His hand stays splayed on your head, keeping your face pressed harshly up against the cold metal desk, hips violent as they pound into yours from behind. You can’t help the wrecked little whines falling from between your lips with the harshness of his actions, ears ringing with the slap of flesh. His other hand splays across the bottom of your spine, heel of it digging into your flesh in time with his thrusts to keep the momentum.

You feel the brush of his thumb moving lower, cautious, curious, and you damn near melt through the fucking table—

“‘s okay,” you pant, eyes rolling. “Do it.”

He pauses his movements and you don’t know whether your cry is from him stopping the brutal thrusts or relief that you get a break, but it soon melts into a gasp when you feel a drop of spit hit between your cheeks, sliding down down down until his thumb rubs it softly over the puckered hole sitting above where the tip of his cock sits buried within you.

“This okay?”

Wrecked. He sounds fucking wrecked, voice almost non-existent between his sharp pants for breath, and you briefly wonder what’s doing it to him. Was it the workout of driving you into the metal; stubbornly motivated to keep you whining and boneless beneath him in some display of dominance? To prove that he can, and will, handle you wherever and whenever you’d allow him?

Or was it that you were so eager to let him do as he pleases? The fact that he had you bent over a desk in the middle of a hostile environment, spread and open, knowing anyone could just walk in and see how fucking filthy you are—all for him.

You’re nodding against the desk, sweat slicked skin sliding across the surface as you try to grind back on him, the only thing you could conjure rasping from your throat in a tangled line—more, more, more…

It’s slow, the movement of his hips starting up, just keeping to shallow, barely there thrusts while his thumb presses into your tight hole, sliding it in and out, softly pressing deeper and deeper until it’s buried fully in you and you’re whimpering into your arm.

“Please R-Rick—”

You’ve never called him that before. It breaks him.

The feral growl of “Fuck.” is all the warning you get before he’s moving again, thumb fucking and stretching your ass in time with the aggressive slam of his hips and you arch on the desk, head falling back as he drills into you further. Fingers grasp at your hair and pull, sharp and unforgiving, forcibly arching your back further until a hungry mouth could meet the soft flesh of your throat.

Teeth melt into the curve of your shoulder and you cry out, fucking yourself back against him as the hand holding your hair moves to wind around your throat, fingers tight and unyielding as they squeeze, and you’re just fucking done.

The hand slowing your oxygen supply, his thumb brushing deeply along the soft, sensitive walls of your ass, along with the bruising pace of his hips and the overwhelming ache of him hitting your cervix builds until you’re physically trembling in his hold, face creased and sweaty—

Lips brush along your throat, “That’s my girl.”

You shatter at the words, hands scrambling to hold onto his forearm wound tightly around you as his hips stutter, your pussy clenching so fucking violently tight around him along with the increased shockwaves of your powers shooting through his cock has him quickly following, his low growl of f-fuck melting into your throat as you sharply cry out, tears spiking your eyes.

The next time you meet the desk is a lot more gentle, his hands soft as they rest you down before removing himself completely from you. You vaguely hear him shuffle around the room before a cool wet cloth is carefully running along the swollen folds of your pussy, providing slight relief with the sting of cold before it warms against your body.

“That better have been clean, Flag.” You mumble, face buried in your arm. The smile that curves your lips is soft when he chuckles quietly in return.

“I think it was.”

You make a low noise of disgust, nose curling at whatever the fuck could be on that cloth, while arms wind around your torso and help you stand straight.

“You alright?”

You hum, swaying slightly on your feet. “Fucked outta my damn mind. Good job, Colonel.”

He doesn’t get to reply—

“OI!” It comes sharply through the door. DuBois. “You finished yet? Or are you tryin’ to fuck this whole thing up?”

Tags: @infuriatinglyoptimistic @221bshrlocked @blueeyesatnight @januarystears @madhattervanessa @runic-belova @vvola13 @mrscrain-x7 @panemedited @southside-otaku @lacontroller1991 @xoxabs88xox @h-hxgirl @whoopsiedaisez @witchygagirl

#rick flag x f!reader #rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #rick flag #rick flag imagine #rick flag fanfiction #dceu fic #dceu fanfiction #the suicide squad #the suicide squad fanfiction #i apologise to my pedro followers lmao #it's 2.30am on the 24th which means----#it ya girls birthday #celebrating with smut - naturally lmao

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the-original-skipps · 3 years

Note

Omggg i really barely saw some mikey headcanons/scenarios here like i'm gonna cry 😭✨,,,, anyways is it okay if i request some scenario where reader is being bullied and harrassed but she don't tell mikey about it cause she don't want mikey to worry about her but then one day mikey saw it and he was furious?? like he saw reader's trembling body and she got hickeys made by her bullies? and everything is up to you just make angst and fluff ,,,, sorry it's longg 😭

Spoken Threats.

Warnings ⚠️: Bullying, violence, mentions of blood, sexual assault.

Word count: 1.5k

Note: Oh I've been waiting to write this and don't be sorry your request can be as long as you want. I've been thinking a couple days about this so here it goes! sorry for the grammar and spelling lol

"ーcchi"

"(Y/N)-cchi"

"(Y/N)"

You snap out of your daze, only to look up to see Mikey staring at you. His dark eyes locking straight onto yours, as if he’s trying to figure out your thoughts. He’s stopped walking and is awaiting for your answer. Only the light from the light post illuminating you both as Mikey walks you home. You sheepishly smile before apologizing, “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” holding the straps of your school bag tighter. Mikey remains silent for a moment before straight forward asking you. “Are you okay?” Even if his expression did not show it you could hear a hint of concern in his voice. “I-I’m fine, just tired from school.” You reply hoping he doesn’t hear the stutter laced within. Walking a few steps forward “Come on!” you call out to him, with a smile on your face. “I see…” He replies his lips forming a tiny smile before stepping forward till he’s walking by your side.

Eventually, you both stop at the front entrance of your house. “Thank you for walking me home.” You thank him with a genuine smile on your face. Mikey returns your smile with his hands in his pockets.

"Good night, (Y/N)-cchi.”

“Good night, Mikey.”

You walk towards the entrance of your house one hand on the door handle. “Bye bye!” You smile and wave, only when Mikey sees you enter your home does he step back. He waves with a grin before walking towards the opposite direction you both came from. You step inside your home and shut the front door. Once you were in the safely of your own home, do you fall to your knees, your school bag dropping carelessly onto the floor. You could feel your body uncontrollably shake, raising your two hands to stare at them. You couldn’t tell him, about what was happening. You bite your lip as tears pool in your eyes. You couldn’t tell him about them, Yui and her minion of guys. How she would corner you at the back of the school, pulling on your hair as you sat on your knees while she viciously insults you and assaults you. Her minions laughing along, what could you do? You couldn’t fight back against three guys, you tried and you were glad Mikey did not notice the bruises that had formed underneath your long sleeved uniform.

You dreaded going to school the next day, knowing what would be awaiting you. You sluggishly button your school uniform, while the mirror reflects back the horrible bruises that have littered your arms and stomach. You hand lightly brushes against your skin only for you to wince and pull your hand away. They were the painful reminders your mind refuses to think about as it only causes more fear within you.

Putting your shoes on, you step outside beginning your walk to school. You were silent as you walked, more students appearing the closer you approach your school. As you were putting on your indoor shoes, you jumped back in surprise at the sound of your friend calling out your name. Yui blinks confusingly at you before greeting you with a smile “good morning (Y/N)!” Her light brown curls bouncing along as she spoke. Your eyes widen and your breathing quickens, “g-good morning…” you managed to stutter out, your back pressed against the shoe lockers. None of the students paying any mind to the both of you. Yui smiles before leaning towards you, “come to the usual place after school, I’ll be waiting…” she whispers menacingly into your ear skipping away with a wave of her hand. Your hold on your bag tightens as panic flushes through your veins. Her words echoing repeatedly in your mind.

Classes passed by in agony as your mind continues to think about Yui's words. None of the teachers words registered in your head. What was she going to do to you this time. You only prayed that it didn’t take long.

Students scatter as class ends as you slowly put away your notebooks and books into your bag, hoping to delay the inevitable. It wasn’t long until all the students left leaving you alone in the classroom with a shaky breathe you prepare yourself as walk towards the back of the school.

“What took you so long bitch?”

Yui immediately corners you to the wall as her sharp eyes glare into yours. “I-I" before you could even form a response she grabs you by your hair forcing you to kneel down. Your hands immediately reaches out to hers hoping she would let go. “What a bad girl, you’ve kept them waiting you know?” Your eyes immediately widen as you see three tall figures loom over you. Your breath hitches in your throat as Yui's minions menacingly smile while their eyes rake over your body. “P-Please no…!” You manage to stutter out as panic flood your body. Yui's smile only widens before she kicks you to the ground, the dirt and dust clinging onto your clothes as you wince in pain.

“Have fun boys.”

Immediately, the guy in middle jumps on you-pinning your arms to the ground. You feel your back hit the ground as your breath gets knocked out of you. “N-No stop..!” Yui let’s out an estranged laugh before pulling her phone out to record you. “Smile for the camera (Y/N)!” The guy towering over you descends upon your neck, harshly biting onto your skin enough to draw blood. You scream as you struggle to get loose only for a hand to cover your mouth, if only if you had been stronger-strong like Mikey then this wouldn’t be happening. The image of your strong boyfriend flashes through your mind as tears cascade along your face as you continue to struggle.

Mikey…

In a flash, the guy above you was kicked away his body skittering before finally stopping-only for blood to ooze out of his nose and mouth. His body didn’t move anymore, simply lying on the dirt ground. Immediately all heads snap to a figure who had recently just appeared. The black jacket he was wearing and his blonde hair fluttering in the wind, his leg still raised in a kicking position before he lowers it down.

“W-Who the hell are y-you?” One of the two remaining guys questioned with fear in their eyes. You blink your bleary eyes as more tears fall, “M-Mikey…” you stutter out. Mikey remains silent as kneels before you, his face devoid of any emotion. He carefully pulls you up into a sitting position before draping his jacket over your shoulders. “Get him!” Yui calls out which snaps the remaining two guys action, causing them to run blindly towards Mikey with their fists pulled back. Before you could even blink, Mikey already has the two guys knocked out on the ground. “What just happened?” You knew your boyfriend was strong but this was unbelievable. It all happened in a flash.

Yui noticing that she has been outnumbered begins to tremble as her eyes land on Mikey. Mikey casually steps on the fallen bodies and approaches Yui until her back meets the wall, her phone clenched tightly within her hands. “Pleasー” Before she could utter the word a fist lands beside her head. In shock, Yui drops her phone. Mikey slowly pulls his fist away from the wall, leaving a crater in its place, remnants of the wall crumbling. Then he stomps on the phone laying on the ground crushing it to bits. “You’re lucky that I don’t hit girls…” Mikey stares down menacingly, his eyes devoid of any light. Yui could only cower as she begins to cry, mumbling incoherent apologies.

“Mikey, s-stop!” You manage to utter out as you try to stand, wincing in pain. You never seen your boyfriend like this, it was as if he was a completely different person and that scared you. “Mikey please..” Your eyes once again welling up with tears as you limp towards him. Before wrapping your shaking arms around his waist, placing your head on his back.

“P-Please…”

After a few moments of silence, Mikey finally speaks to you his back still turned towards you. “I came to pick you up but I couldn't find you then I heard your scream. I'm sorry I couldn’t protect you (Y/N)….” You buried your face further into his back, your tears wetting his shirt. “T-Thank you, for saving me…” You pull away as Mikey turns around to face you, an unexplainable emotion within his eyes. “Thank you, for saving a weakling like me...” You gently smile your glistening eyes meeting his. “You’re not weak!” Mikey exclaims as he carefully takes your bruised hand with his bloodied hand. “Not to me...” With his other hand he wipes away the blood on the corner of your lips.

“Let’s go home (Y/N)-cchi.” You nod as you both pull away from each other. You walk ahead picking up your dirty school bag, noticing how dark the sky has gotten as Mikey follows behind you then abruptly stops making sure you’re away from earshot, his head turning back to face the forgotten crying girl behind him.

“Next time you ever think of hurting her, I'll kill you…”

#sano manjiro #mikey tokyo revengers #mikey x reader #sano manjiro x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo manji revengers #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers x y/n #skipps writes

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leatherednlace · 3 years

Text

Jolene

Dean Winchester x Male reader

Tags - Drinking, Tipsy, Sad, Phone calls, Mentions of Sam x Male reader, Revenge, Kissing, Dean Winchester puts the P in A, Riding, Hickies, Dirty talk, Praise, Slow sex, Aftercare

You watch as the man of your dreams, sam winchester fall in love with a women...you out of your mind, angry, upset for him leading you on, you call Dean to take you home...by telling Dean, now’s your chance to get back at sam...

A/N - Thank the “slowed” version of Jolene for this...

Taglist - @flamencodiva @wonder-cole @superfanficnatural @that-one-gay-girl

——————————————————————————

You took the last swig of your drink, the glass slightly cold in your hand, but the feeling was so comforting...the numbness.

“Another”

You slurred. Your eyes set on the pair in the far corner, you could already feel your blood boil, stomach turning, mouth twisting in disgusting.

There he was, hands on the strangers hips, moving there bodies to the music, he was heavily intoxicated clearly by the empty sets of glasses on the table they were once sat at.

You sigh...music filling the void, the drink making your head fuzzy with each beat. You continued watching them closely. Sam was never like this with you, his hands never travelled up your back, never wound up in your hair, lips never met yours...

Shaking your head...you had enough, you wanted more, anything.

You heard the regular knock of the glass being placed infront of you, the whiskey sat at the bottom, the brown liquor making your mouth water, you needed it.

You bring the glass to your lips, taking a swig, you feel the burn which was very addictive, your throat already revelling in the contact, but you wanted to go home, to feel those soft blankets wrap around your body keeping you warm.

Sam wasn’t paying any attention to you at all, as if you were invisible, non-existent. You could feel the usual pang in your chest, the hurt, the empty feeling, everytime you thought of him.

One of your hands steadily dove into your left trouser pocket, you pulled it out, as soon as the phone screen turned on, your eyes flicked over the 2 missed calls from Dean...why Dean?

Your eyebrows furrowed, without thinking, presumably letting the alcohol take over, you tap call. A wave of nervousness travelled across your body, hands standing up on your arm, why were you having this reaction?

“Hello?”

The deep, gruff, slightly soothing voice echoed in your ears, you couldn’t help the groan that left your lips, not only was it Dean...but his voice...

“D-Dean...”

He could already tell, a sigh sounded from the speaker, you don’t blame him, you had told him you wouldn’t get drunk, but he can thank Sam for that.

“Are you drunk?”

You nodded, but blurted out a sloppy “y-yeh”. You couldn’t help think why Dean hadn’t hung up yet, but you were glad he hadn’t, nothing ever compared to how...horrible you felt right now...

“You want something?”

You paused, to regain a somewhat “sober” state.

“D-Dean can y-you come p-pick me up...Sammy left me alone f-for some woman.”

You awaited an answer, clearly he was annoyed, not at you, but at his brother. He felt kind of sorry for you, Sam had been leading you on for all these months...it’s not right...he would treat you so much better.

“Hold on...”

————————

Silence.

The silence was like a heavy weight, both you and Dean keeping your eyes on the road. You tried mustering up some kind of plan to forget about Sam and what he was doing...what his deal was with kissing that woman.

But you couldn’t, every touch, every kiss, they were like memories imprinted into the back of your head, everytime you closed your eyes, you saw the way Sam was with her...he was never like that with you.

You could feel the tears brim at your bottom lids. You could feel anger course it’s way through your veins, taking over your body.

“What Sam did...” Dean paused, correcting himself “is doing...it’s not right, it’s not fair” Dean kept his eyes on the road, glancing back at you and forth to see if you were okay.

“It isn’t...D-Dean nothing’s fair...not in this life, we are hunters, we hel-“

You were cut off by Dean pulling off the road into a lay by, he couldn’t handle seeing you like this, the guilt he saw in your eyes every time he looked at you, Sam has broken you.

Parking the car he switched the engine off, twisting the keys and sliding them into his pocket. Placing a warm, comforting hand on your thigh he shook his head.

“Listen...I can’t control my brother or his actions, what he did tonight shouldn’t really be any of my concern but I can’t bare to see you like...”

His voice had you shivering, it was a comfort at this point, deep, quiet, much like a whisper but loud enough to not be. You looked to his hand rubbing up and down your thigh, smiling weakly to yourself.

You look up into his green orbs, everything stilled as if time itself switched off, if only for mere seconds. “It’s nice to know i have someone fighting in my corner...”

Your words were rather breathy, both of you close...too close to be friends. Dean’s hand squeezed your thigh, his eyes asking if this was okay...there was a slight pause as you watch Dean closely, hungry tongue lapping over his dry bottom lip.

“I-Is this okay?”

Removing his slightly warm hand from your thigh, he brought it up to cusp your cheek, pulling your face towards his own, nothing could prepare you for the way his lips crashed against your own, this wasn’t needy...this was want.

This kiss was wet, deep, everything you had dreamed of...with Sam. But what was this feeling? Butterflies? Maybe...Maybe Dean was the problem solver here, What if it was Dean all along?

Dean sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, slightly tugging on it. A whimper escapes you as Dean took charge, his tongue sliding against yours in a fight for dominance, clearly he’s won.

Soft grunts left his lips at the sounds of your whimpers, they sounded oh so heavenly. You move closer wanting to feel more, his hands pulling you into his lap. You were now situated on his lap, knees at either side of Dean’s thighs, his tongue still in your mouth.

He pulled away, eye’s now getting a good look of you, your features. “God your more beautiful then I remember”. Dean already managed to make you feel good with just words…you wonder how else he could do that.

You feel yourself blush underneath the street light, Dean chuckled deeply, clothed cock brushing against your ass. “D-Dean please make me f-feel good” you moan sloppily, hoping he would take charge of the situation and make you forget.

His hands pushed down your rather loose bottoms past your hips, your bare ass on show. You hiss at the cold air now surrounding you, hands clinging onto his shoulders as he manoeuvres your trousers and boxers.

Your cock sprung free and rested against his clothed stomach. Dean smirked knowing it was him doing this to you, making you hard under his touch.

“I’ve always wanted to make you feel good…fuck” he groans into your ear, his deep gruff voice forcing a shiver out of you. Your hands wonder down to his belt, unlooping it from it’s confines, finding it easier to unzip his trousers.

He buries his face between the crook of your neck, hiding away as he nibbles on the soft skin. One of your hands dive into his now open trousers, grazing the plump hard on he was sporting.

You pull him out, now feeling the heavy weight of it in your hands. Dean moans at the slight friction your hand gives his aching member…god he was a mess.

“I-I need to feel y-you”

You place his aching tip at your wanting entrance, plunging into you.

The low rumbling moans that leave his lips make you clench around him, squeezing him tighter, “oh my God.” Dean can’t even find the words.

You whimper in pain, the feeling of his thickness stretching you to accommodate his size.

Chanting your name over and over, whimpering as he sinks further into your warmth, as deep as he can possibly go. He grips onto you for dear life, as if he’d loose you.

His lips circle the shell of your ear, nibbling the soft area, breath fanning against it. “So fucking tight” he groans, using his hands to force your hips up and down, bouncing away in his lap.

Holding each other, you stay connected for a little while, enjoying the moment as Dean continues his harsh thrusts, rocking his hips into your tight heat, whimpers sounded out into the now fogged-up car.

“So much better then Sammy” you groan, this only had Dean slowing his hips, now pointing his aim at your sweet spot. “Love feeling myself deep in you…balls pressed to this ass” he gives it a smack, watching your face twist with pain and pleasure.

“Thought about this for years…’bout plunging my cock deep inside your little boy pussy…”

That’s all it takes for the coil to snap, you cling to Dean, hands squeezing his skin tightly as you scream his name, your cock twitched as you released your load onto his flannel, vision turning white.

“That’s it…squeeze around me, milk m- shit” Dean cums deep within you, load after load filling you making sure you knew who you belonged too. His eyes closed tightly…you could hear him pant, hardly able to catch his own breath.

He chuckles, half blissed. His eyes watched you closely, one of his hands coming up to cup your left cheek, taking in your features.

“How was it…” he mutters.

Your too fucked out and slightly tipsy to even open your mouth, instead you kiss him to show how much this actually means to you. Dean held you against his chest, kissing back with the same amount of passion.

Sammy was now a distant thought, everywhere you looked there was Dean…this felt right.

#x male reader #male reader #dean winchester #jensen ackles #smut #dean winchester x male reader

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sunfish-studies · 3 years

Text

Greed

✄・・・ Feathery Ink [Karasuno Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Karasuno x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none

➜ Notes: This is a separate series from Crisp Leaves. Similar to Crisp Leaves, manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall. This is just my appreciation towards tall girls, you guys are amazing.

Previous: ‹ Acceptance › | Next: ‹ Moonrise ›

↷ SUMMARY ↶

Hinata’s overwhelming greed to grow–will it be a blessing or a curse for the team?

As the temperature rise, so was the tension–at first you didn’t really acknowledge the heaviness present in the air, but now it was suffocating. Your team certainly had it around them at first, however it now increased tenfold after Hinata bumped to Asahi for the ball. The prickling in the air almost felt as if it was scratching your skin.

“I wasn’t imagining the tension between Hinata and Kageyama-kun, right?” Yachi asked uncertain, but Shimizu nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. But it’s not just Hinata and Kageyama. Ever since Hinata and Azumane bumped into each other, they’re all on the edge.”

“That, and Hinata-kun just blurted out what everyone’s thinking right now,” you added, making the two turned to face you. “Hinata-kun wants to rapidly change, if everyone couldn’t keep up or made their presence clear in front of him…”

They’ll be eaten by that overwhelming greed the orange-haired boy has.

When the penalty was over, you quickly distributed the water bottles and towels with Yachi while Shimizu handled the notes. The absence of Hinata, Kageyama, and Sugawara were clear because as soon as they finished their penalty, the third year asked them to have a private chat outside the gym.

“Azumane-san, you felt that, right?” you asked the older boy, handing his water bottle. “The feeling of being eaten up.”

“Yeah,” Somehow, Asahi didn’t really surprise hearing those words from you. For him, you’re rather different–maybe it’s because you’re quite knowledgeable about volleyball and a quite observant person.

“I think you should try putting him in his place,” hearing those rather bold words from you made his eyes widened.

“P-putting him to place!? L-like scolding him? I don’t think I can.”

“N-no, just declared out loud that the ball is yours? From what I saw, Hinata-kun is trying to steal that ball away from you. You need to tell let him know that it’s not his.”

Asahi fell silent at first, thinking over and assessed what you just said. He found that you’re right–it’s ace’s job to get everyone in the team grounded. He gave you a smile and a nod. “Yeah, I’ll try. Thank you for the insight, [Name].”

“Oh, Hinata-kun, let me see your chin!” Asahi then watched you jogged towards the shorter orange-haired boy.

“Huh? Why?” he asked in confusion.

“You hit it when you’re doing the diving drills, right? At least let me check if it’s bruising or not.” You bent down to take a closer look, although still keeping a respectful distance from the boy so he wouldn’t be having a heart attack.

“A-alright, thank you!”

Your team didn’t stay for too long–once the last practice of the day was done, all of you were already packing to return to Miyagi. This practice camp was short, but you heard Coach Ukai mentioned that it would be even longer the moment summer vacation started–at that time, you will be staying around for a week.

Huffing, you lifted up a big luggage with the team’s necessities and began walking towards the bus in the parking lot. Ennoshita mentioned that if anything’s too heavy, you should ask for someone in the team’s help–however you were reluctant, especially after knowing all of them were certainly tired from practice match and diving penalties.

“Here, let me help you,” suddenly, the weight was removed from you. You were greeted with Akaashi’s figure with the bag in hand, you almost felt jealous on how he could carry it with ease.

“Thank you, Akaashi-san,”

After that you didn’t exchange any word as you approached the bus, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable either.

“So, how is it being the manager?” his question threw you off guard, not expecting him to start a conversation.

Laughing nervously, you replied. “It felt like being thrown into a room full of color and being doused in ice bath.”

Once again, you didn’t expect him laughing slightly at your metaphor. You cursed the moment you laid your eyes on his figure because how can someone be so goddamn gorgeous from just laughing. Your heart skipped a bit and blood rushed to your face almost instantly.

“I could relate to that,” he hummed. “Especially having someone eccentric in the team, like Bokuto-san for example.”

“Hey, hey, hey, Otohaku-chan!!” As if being called, the mentioned boy jogged towards the two of you. Akaashi put the bag onto the ground after asking if it’s okay to do so. “Be sure to join the summer training camp so you can cheer on me, alright!?”

“That’s a wrong thing wrangled into one sentence.” Kuroo commented, accompanied by his infamous smirk. “And why would you drag other team’s manager when you already have two?”

“Please don’t request anything weird to Otohaku-san.” Akaashi deadpanned.

“What?? Why!? The only one here’s nice enough to compliment me is Otohaku-chan!!”

“You pushed her into doing so, Bokuto-san. Otohaku-san, if he’s bothering you feel free to ignore him.”

“AKAASHI!!”

“Well, Bokuto do have something correct, though,” Kuroo folded his arm across his chest. “Be sure to join the summer training camp. The more, the merrier, you know?”

“I will,” you smiled. You had no reason not to join–a manager’s duty is to help the team grow by letting their mind off doing mundane things, so you would do your best to support your team.

Kuroo’s hand reached out, finding itself on your head again and ruffling lightly. “Then we’ll be waiting.”

“[Name]-san is already good friends with Fukurodani and Nekoma’s captain,” Ennoshita, who watched the interaction from the sidelines, commented. Sugawara and Sawamura nodded in agreement, smiling proudly. You were known for being rather reserved, but seeing you began to have more friends were a huge development.

“It’s good she begins to open up and make friends, but,” Ennoshite flinched from the murderous atmosphere surrounding Sugawara. “I hope they could limit the physical contact with our dearest manager, though.”

“Right? They’re too close to my liking.” Sawamura added, smiling but with menacing intent.

“Whoaa!! You’re so tall!” as if the world was trying to spite the two, Lev joined into the picture–his hand found yours and immediately had them in his grip. “And pretty!”

Ennoshita had to refrain Sugawara and Sawamura from murdering the oblivious first year.

It was quite late at night the moment all of you were back at the school. Assuming it was late, you didn’t have any reason to stay longer and need to go home as soon as possible. However, noticing how the gym was lit, both you and Yachi decided to check it out–finding Kageyama and Hinata were in there with net fully set along with volley cart.

“Huh? You two aren’t going home yet?” Yachi asked.

“It’s quite late. You should get some rest instead.” You added, knowing how harsh the practice match and penalties combined together.

“Yachi-san, [Name]-san, if you don’t mind, could you throw us some balls?” instead of answering, Hinata requested some help.

“Huh? I can do that?” Yachi yelped.

“You just have to throw the ball above Kageyama’s head.” Hinata pointed out.

“S-sure, I’ll give it a try.”

“If you’re tired, switch with me, Hitoka-chan.” You said and she nodded.

Yachi throw ball after ball for Kageyama to toss while Hinata tried to hit it–and he failed. The ball didn’t sync at all with him, his movement didn’t fully pull out because he’s too focused on the ball. It’s not just second or third, with every ball being tossed, not once did Hinata successfully spike it.

“One more time!” Hinata called out, however there’s no ball this time because they already used it all.

“Instead of practicing an attack we’re not sure you’ll ever be able to do, you should be working on the attacks we’ve been using as well as serving and blocking!” Kageyama spat.

“But if this quick doesn’t work, there’s no point in me being on the court!”

“And I told you, your will isn’t needed for that quick! I’ll give you tosses that won’t be stopped by blocks!”

“But then I’ll never get better!” Hinata argued.

This is bad, you internally said. It’s not the usual bickering the two always do.

“The prelims for the spring tournament start next month! They’re right around the corner, what do you think will be an effective weapon for us? A complete quick or an absolutely useless quick!? Huh!?” Kageyama yelled, his hand already clutching onto Hinata’s collar.

“N-no fighting, guys.” Yachi stuttered, trying her best to get situation under control. “Calm down, Kageyama-kun. You, too, Hinata…”

“I want to be strong enough to compete by myself!” Of course, the two wouldn’t give any spare second to your friend’s pleading. And Hinata’s words seemed to be the trigger that snapped the chord.

“Your selfishness is going to destroy the team’s balance!” shouting in anger, Kageyama threw the shorter boy to the ground–the sound that echoed throughout the gym made both you and Yachi winced.

“L-Let’s all be f-friends, o-okay!?” Yachi stuttered.

“Stop it you two,” you stated, making sure to said it out loud so it could be heard. “Fighting doesn’t solve anything.”

Your heart thumping against your chest, your ears were ringing from the adrenaline rushing in your bloodstream. If you or Yachi couldn’t do anything, thing would escalate to a bad degree–the worst would be fist fight. And that would result the two being suspended from club activities. Separating the two physically wouldn’t be a good thing either–as much as you want to, you’re a girl and it would be dangerous.

“I’ll toss to anyone who’s essential to winning.” Kageyama declared. “But I don’t think you’re essential to winning right now. And I don’t feel any different now.”

“Kageyama!!”

Hinata certainly didn’t accept those words–picking himself up, he threw himself to Kageyama and clutching on to him.

“Damn it, let go!”

“I won’t let go until you give me a toss!”

The second time Kageyama threw Hinata to the ground full force, you knew you had to stop this somehow. Turning to look at Yachi, who’s standing behind you, you said, “Call someone, Hitoka-chan. We have to stop them!”

“B-but, what about you [Name]-chan-!?” she yelped, not wanting to leave you alone in a place where two boys were fighting.

“I’ll be fine, now go!” Yachi immediately bolted towards the exit to search for anyone who’s near–now that left you with the two. “Stop it, Kageyama, Hinata!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“That quick was stopped!! Today and during Seijoh’s match!”

“Are you trying to say that my toss was a fault!?”

“Enough!” You tried to pry Hinata away from Kageyama, holding onto his arm and pulled it. And it didn’t end up good for you. Maybe he was too blinded by anger or desperation or your existence currently didn’t exist in his mind, he shoved arm to shook you off.

His elbow hit you right in the stomach, which made you winced in pain and the sheer power you never thought he had thrown to the ground. If it’s only the ground then you wouldn’t have any difficulties, but you forgot there’s a volleyball cart near by and your back just happened to hit that first before the ground.

There will be bruises without a doubt.

Their yelling flew past your mind because the pain from your back and stomach already had your mind occupied. Soon, you heard another yelling and another set of footsteps. Yachi immediately ran and kneeled beside you.

“Y-you okay, [Name]-chan!? B-blood! You have blood on your arm!” she yelped, hands trembling.

At the mention of blood, you lifted your arm automatically–Yachi was right, there’s a long cut running from your elbow to your wrist. You didn’t even feel any pain from it, maybe it was being overshadowed by the pain from your back and stomach even though the cut was dripping blood.

It was a rough night for the four of you.

“This will be enough,” you said, making Kageyama stopped on his track to look at you. “My house is just around the corner. Thank you for walking me home, Kageyama-kun.”

“Y-Yeah…” he replied in stutters.

You didn’t immediately turn your back to him and walked away–because he was shuffling on his feet while looking here and there, you knew he had something else to say. Kageyama isn’t the best in pouring his mind into words, that’s why after knowing that you tried your best to be patient and let him composed himself to talk.

“Is there something you need?” you coaxed, noticing he couldn’t get his thoughts straight.

“Uh,” Kageyama lifted his hand, finger picking on the band-aid you put upon his cut from where Tanaka punched him. “Y-your arm,”

“It’s fine,” showing him the long cut, he stiffened when he rested his eyes on it. “It stopped bleeding and I already cleaned it so it’s fine.”

Silence fell between the two of you for the second time.

“Sorry…” Kageyama finally said–you almost didn’t hear it from how soft he spoke.

“It’s fine Kageyama-kun, it’s my fault anyway. I should’ve waited for Tanaka-san instead of trying to stop you two on my own.” You sighed. “I’m worried about you two more, to be honest…”

The raven-haired boy outwardly grimaced at your statement.

“But, I know everything will fall into place soon,” you quickly added, trying to ease the guilt Kageyama was feeling. “Hinata will find a way to have mid-air battles, and you will look for a way to do something with your tosses. Then in the end, everything will connect and Karasuno will have a new weapon.”

“…Yeah,”

Seeing Kageyama’s shoulders shook slightly, you understood this also took a toll on him somehow. Stepping forward until you’re one foot away from him, you reached your hand out to gently hold on to his. You didn’t really know how to comfort the opposite gender, usually you would just pull Yachi into a hug when she’s not having the best feeling. Kageyama replied to your gesture by tightening his grip on your hand.

Not caring for the time, you choose to stay with Kageyama until he let go.

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