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drunkinchicago · 5 months

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coriolanus snow x lucy gray baird

link: chapter 1, link: chapter 2, link: chapter 3 link: chapter 4

Chapter 5: violent dog

Notes:

trigger warning: the word rape is mentioned, the act does not occur nor will it but the word is used

Chapter Text

I'm not a violent dog - I don't know why I bite.

Isle of Dogs

“I am a cage, in search of a bird.”

Franz Kafka

Snow

It won't be long before we'll all be there with snow

Snow

I wanna wash my hands, my face and hair with snow (snow, snow)

Rosemary Clooney, “Snow”

White organic ribbed towels, baby pink nail polish, black lace knee-high socks, a custom lightwood Fender guitar he’d commissioned months ago. Coriolanus spent the entire morning preparing for her arrival, equipping the guest room with little things he assumed she’d like. A pretty cage for a pretty bird. It’s a Saturday, divine timing. Had it been a weekday, he may not have been able to do this, would’ve been busy at the University or the lab. But it’s not - it’s a Saturday. Perfect.

He'd been attempting to put together the dinner menu when his communicuff notified him that they were roughly an hour out. Coriolanus hated that he could hardly think of what she’d want to eat. In Twelve, they’d shared whatever they could find - roots, flowers, the like, and in the Capitol, he’d simply brought her what he could. He didn’t have these resources then. He wanted her to coo and sigh at all he could give her, imagining such a reaction as he carefully penned down ideas for the staff - goat cheese salad with pomegranate dressing, Cornish hens, honey glazed salmon in case she preferred seafood, blanched vegetables, a balsamic raspberry dessert.

It was the perfect setting to begin quizzing Lucy Gray, as she was getting the first taste of the rest of her life. Coriolanus expected to feel angry initially, coupled with obsessive desire and thankfulness that she was finally within his reach. He would never let her get away from him again and was fully convinced it’d kill him if she did. It wasn’t difficult to recall the horror of realizing she’d escaped him, how slick the gun had felt in his hands, wet with rain, sweat and tears. “Lucy Gray!” He’d screamed, over and over and over, rubbing his vocal cords raw. “Lucy Gray!”

As Coriolanus handed the menu to one of the maids, he verbally expressed the importance of the home looking its best and the meal looking even better. “You watched the Games, didn’t you?” He paid careful attention to how he spoke to an Avox, making sure to only ask yes or no questions. The older woman nodded, refusing to meet Coriolanus’ eyes and studying the meticulously inscribed piece of paper instead.

“Then you know her, my tribute. She’s my very special girl. Do you understand?”

Another nod.

“She can have anything she desires. If she asks for it, you get it, all of you.”

Nod. Coriolanus mulled over his words. For safe measure he added, “Unless she asks to leave.”

Coriolanus was wearing his best suit, all black, but left his hair messy. See how long it’s gotten, Lucy Gray? You can touch it.

He felt as though he was hallucinating, experiencing a posca induced episode of grand delusion. This must just be what it feels like when dreams come true, he decided. He recalled a semblance of the feeling when he’d - they’d - won the Games, but this felt much bigger, more significant. Perhaps he would have to grow accustomed to this sensation, considering he planned to get everything he wanted and then some.

When the doorbell rang, he was sprawled on the couch, letting his shoes touch the light blue leather. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed an Avox sailing toward the door swiftly, to which he screamed, “Don’t you dare open that!”

The maid was startled by Coriolanus’ uncharacteristically loud episode, backing away from the door as though it was an explosive. He was already striding toward her, determination dancing in his eyes. “Go to the kitchen and stay there until I tell you to come out,” he murmured as he passed her, seeing nothing but the door and what he imagined to be behind it - her on her knees.

The doorbell rang a second time, an action he knew she wasn’t responsible for. But he heard her, whimpering, talking to someone. The sound made his head rush, dizzying him. No, he wanted her alone. He adopted an authoritative tone as he demanded, “If there is anyone on the other side of this door that isn’t Lucy Gray, leave now.”

More sounds - footsteps, the elevator door opening and closing, Lucy Gray crying, “Please!” This enraged him, her begging for someone else. He opened the door at once, sending her falling onto the porcelain tile, tears streaming down her face.

“There you are.” Coriolanus couldn’t hide the awe in his voice, noticing the cuffs tied around her little hands.

There she was indeed. Lucy Gray Baird, flesh and blood, her curls wild and long, eyes dark and beautiful, wounded and needy and starved. She was wearing a dress he immediately knew to be Capitol-made. Who had undressed her, changed her? He’d have to talk to somebody about it. It was plain, not the sort she’d have chosen herself, white and long. It set her off like a picture anyway, contrasting the warm tone of her skin. She was smooth everywhere, and supple, and crying still, crying so hard.

“Why are you crying?” He said it plainly, leaning down to help her up. Lucy Gray flinched at his touch, which was painful but expected. She’s adjusting, he reminded himself. She’s just scared. He almost liked the idea of it, warmth gathering in his lower stomach. He was making her heart pound, wasn’t he?

“Untie me, Coriolanus,” she sobbed, turning to face him. He removed his hands from her sides, reaching his right one over her shoulder to slam the door and lock it in a single swift movement. Lucy Gray was standing now, and Coriolanus was towering over her. They looked like some makeshift bride and groom, rough on the edges. He couldn’t stop marveling at her, how perfect she was, how real she was.

“Untie me,” Lucy Gray repeated, pleading.

Coriolanus leaned down to meet her eyes, leveling their height. “If I do that, are you going to play nice?”

She wanted to spit in his face and touch him simultaneously, hating herself for it. She couldn’t meet his eyes because it would make her remember it all, getting lost in the blue of them until they were back where they used to be - a blue Peacekeeper uniform, a blue lake, the blue bruise he’d left with his mouth on her neck. She worried that he could see right through her. It used to feel that way, at least, like they were communicating through a different wavelength both during the Games and after. It was that very sensation that’d haunted Lucy Gray during the last several months. The idea that he was always watching her, the way she swore she could hear his voice in her head, their thoughts merging to protect her - it had once been a comfort. It became a curse when she’d left, shivering in southern blue gum trees alone and imagining his frame behind her, whispering in her ear in the low voice he reserved for her. We could’ve talked it through, the ghost of him would say, wrapping his hands around her belly. Don’t you regret it?

To avoid his face, Lucy Gray looked past his shoulder to see the rest of the sprawling penthouse, the twenty foot high ceilings and decadent furnishings. So this is what you were doing while I was gone, Lucy Gray thought. Getting rich.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Coriolanus’ voice brought her back to reality, barely a whisper.

“This is the house you ate a whole jar of paste in?” Lucy Gray scoffed, feeling a glimpse of satisfaction as she saw his fist curl. “Or was that another lie?”

“These are the bones of that house, yes.” Coriolanus was trying his hardest to keep his composure, his breath shaking as he returned to his full height, standing straight and rigid. “I remodeled it.”

Lucy Gray simply nodded, noticing how cold the tile felt against her bare feet. A female Peacekeeper had stripped her of all personal belongings before they’d exited the train, hosing her down in a private cubicle like she was a street dog. She felt stripped of more than just what she owned, like a base model, reduced and made smaller in size. The Capitol representative who’d escorted her to the penthouse assured her that the Snows would have what she needed and to request anything they didn’t preemptively equip her with through Coriolanus. Still, she felt dirty standing barefoot in that elevator, knowing who was waiting for her on the top floor. So dirty. “Untie me.”

“You have to promise to be a good girl.”

Lucy Gray shook her head, refusing to repeat his words.

“Say it.”

“No.”

“Stay tied up, then.”

They were both quiet for a moment, tension buzzing between them like a powerline. Lucy Gray allowed herself to look at his face for a beat, her knees weakening as she did. He had always been so achingly beautiful. There was not necessarily hatred in his eyes, something closer to love muddled with fervid anticipation - it was a look she couldn’t assign a term to, an expression that had been worn by Coriolanus Snow from the first time he’d seen her. Obsession, perhaps, the type of adoration a person would kill for. He looked older than the last time she’d seen him and evidently more well fed, his arms straining at the confines of his suit jacket. He’d dressed up for her, she noticed. It was strange, though, to see him standing in this room, boasting these assets, clearly knee-deep in wealth and security. Lucy Gray used to believe that the way he looked at her was partially the blame of hunger. Yet he was, appearing hungrier than ever.

“Why am I here?” Lucy Gray said under her breath, already knowing the answer. Because he wanted her, because he never stopped. Had she? Standing before him, she was not as sure of what she thought she knew.

Coriolanus removed a white rose from the pocket of his dress pants, ever the romantic - a sentimental remembrance of their meeting at the train station. “We’re lucky, you know,” he murmured, placing it behind her ear as though he was touching stained glass, afraid to move too harshly, to break her. “Some people don’t get the chance to make it right. They die before finding where they belong.”

Lucy Gray wanted to touch the rose, unable to determine if the desire was to caress it or rip it to shreds, disrespecting the beautiful thing that smelled so much like his chest. She began to cry again, crushed by the pressure of such an unfamiliar environment and the fact that somehow, it felt more familiar than she thought it would. He wasn’t being cruel, or violent - but he could be. Her sobs were accompanied by shivers as she remembered the sound of his screaming followed by seemingly endless gunshots, a rage so great he couldn’t control it. And she’d given it to him. She was the rage.

Coriolanus was leaning down again, a softness taking over his face. “Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered. “What’s the matter?” His hand found purchase on her face, the size of it engulfing her right cheek. Lucy Gray instinctively found herself leaning into it as if it had been yesterday and not ages ago that they’d last done this.

Suddenly, she wanted him angry. She wanted a reason to hate him, to detest him, a reminder of why she’d run away so that she could stop feeling stupid for doing so. Upset him , she thought. Make him show himself.

She met his eyes in totality for the first time that afternoon, watching his pupils dilate, a black saucer lost at sea, growing and growing. “Are you going to rape me?” She choked out, the words tasting vile as she said it.

Coriolanus sprang back as though he’d been shot, creating a significant gap between them. The edges of his vision began to blur. What had she said? He felt like someone had come up behind him and stabbed him between his shoulder blades, twisting his spine and straightening it like he was a marionette doll, dumb and lifeless. They’d never explicitly discussed sleeping with one another. It was alluded to, made clear that they both wanted to, flirted with over heavy petting sessions and in the look on Coriolanus’ face just after they kissed. But never, ever, had Lucy Gray said something like this. The notion that she would reduce their first sexual experience to an assault made Coriolanus physically nauseous. Did she not want him?

“What did you just say to me?” Coriolanus’ voice was barely a whisper. He could do nothing to hide how wounded he felt, suffering a physical reaction. His right hand, which only a moment ago had been caressing her face, now clutched his shirt in anxiety, resting on his heart.

Lucy Gray was crying harder now, her cheek cold at the loss of his touch. She’d known it was a low thing to say, had even thought not to - but she was disoriented, scared. She felt disillusioned with reality. How was she here? How was this real?

“What on earth did you just say to me?” Coriolanus’ shock was transforming into anger, into furious disgust at the prospect that he’d somehow done something to convince her of such a possibility. “You think that I would do that to you? You think that’s what I brought you here for?”

Lucy Gray couldn’t speak through the chokes of her sobbing. Why had she said it? She knew why, really - because she was disgusted with herself. She was ashamed to have made such drastic measures and still feel such a passion for him, such a deep desire for him to ravage her. She was insecure over it, the true concept she’d been attempting to run from - the idea that she would always want him this much, that she would be tethered to his Capitol heart and Capitol hands and Capitol eyes. He was a Gamemaker. He helped contribute to the source of her nightmares, personally conspiring on how to kill in a way that made people watch. How could he also be the subject of her most intense dreams, the ones she awoke from with a noticeable ache everywhere, longing for him? He was a liar, a murderer - she knew who the third person he’d killed was, had assumed it after long days analyzing their circumstances on a loop. It had to be Sejanus, his ‘best friend’, ‘his brother’. Coriolanus had betrayed him in a way that Lucy Gray had not discerned. All she knew was that such a choice had resulted in Sejanus’ death, yet Coriolanus was the one standing on that platform silently, listening to Sejanus choke behind him. Coriolanus Snow was self-righteous, greedy, and gorgeous. And she couldn’t get enough of it, not unless she was hundreds of miles away, tears in her eyes and her hands covering her mouth, desperate not to whisper his name in her sleep.

Coriolanus let her cry. “Ask me again, Lucy Gray.”

Lucy Gray shook her head as she wept. Her cards were out, already spent. What an idiot you are, she told herself. You fool. She wouldn’t be able to repeat it, and then he’d know that she’d said it as a gimmick, as some cheap, disrespectful attempt to rile him.

Coriolanus took a step closer to her, confidence building as he caught the insinuation that she could not bring herself to say it once more. “Are you a liar, Lucy Gray?”

“No, I-”

“So ask me again.”

More sobbing, her shoulder shaking, her hands straining at their confines.

“Are you a liar, Lucy Gray?”

She couldn’t bring herself to respond to this either. The warm lighting of the chandelier above them was starting to get to her head. She felt lightheaded and off-balance, dehydrated at the cost of her tears.

Coriolanus was getting closer still, walking in her direction carefully and slowly. “Okay, that’s too hard for Lucy Gray. We can try other things. Tell me that you don’t want me to touch you then, and I won’t, ever again.”

Lucy Gray was as quiet as a statue, unable to move, or speak, or protest. All she could do was look at him, shame pouring down her cheeks. He was wilder now, a vision in his ink-colored suit and furious eyes. He had her - almost. As Coriolanus closed the barrier between them, Lucy Gray looked up at him, begging him to kiss her, hating herself for it.

“Tell me that you don’t want me to fuck you.”

“I do, Coriolanus.” Lucy Gray couldn’t bear to be silent anymore, her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment at her confession, at how quickly she had responded only when he took it that far. She wanted to take it back, cover her mouth, time travel - but she couldn’t. The moment was lost to Coriolanus’ sharp teeth, a revelation that he would let melt on his tongue and save for later.

His eyes lit up. He knew he’d won, and Lucy Gray knew she’d lost.

“You do?” He slowly put his thumb in her mouth, watching her take it as she did a rose petal. Her eyes opened wide up to him just as his hardened, yanking his finger from her in a swift movement. She fell forward gasping, her lip beginning to bleed. “That’s too bad.”

He left her on the floor, beckoning for the maids to clean her up. “Make sure she eats, even if you have to force feed her yourselves,” he commanded, thinking of how her ribs were visible in that stupid sheer dress, her stupid perfect body, her stupid fantastic lips.

Pure rage coursed through his veins as Coriolanus entered his bedroom, slamming the door behind him with as much force as he could bear. How dare she, his little bird? The contentment of her obvious physical attraction to him was hardly enough to swallow the betrayal he felt, but it did help. She had been lying, an obvious attempt to put him down, to plant insecurities within him. And for what excuse, because she was feeling vulnerable, uprooted? He’d just have to train her, wear her out, build her back up. This was where Lucy Gray belonged.

This was home now.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg series #thg #tbosas spoilers #coriolanus snow #snow #president snow #snowbaird #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x lucy gray #lucy gray baird #lucy gray x coriolanus #suzanne collins #archive of our own #ao3

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huntinglove · 11 months

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Here's some stuff I think the Hashira and the Upper Moon's are into, because I'm a whore :3

(Note, I don't selfship with all of these characters, I just wanna ramble about this because it helps me characterize them better when I write)

Minors please don't interact

Muichiro: Definitely enjoys going soft and easy at first then getting insanely rough when questioned about it, he knows he can absolutely ruin someone, but he likes taking his time with it

Giyuu: Loves having sex when he knows there's people in the next room over, both because he finds it fun to watch his partner squirm without making a sound and because he's shy and doesn't like being too loud

Mitsuri: Will come up with all sorts of roleplays and fantasies, sex would never become a repetitive routine with her. She also enjoys doing these scenarios out of nowhere, so her partner will have a more genuine and spontaneous reaction

Obanai: Crazy about bondage, seeing his partner tied up in any way makes him all hot and bothered. He's a huge tease about it too, he'll edge his partner until they're almost crying and begging for him to let them cum already

Rengoku: The king of praise and body worship, his partner will have their ego and confidence through the roof after having sex with him. He's very talkative and loud all throughout and shyness has no place around him. Hell praise his partner and make them repeat his words back to him while pounding away at them

Gyomei: Size kink all the way, loves fingering his partner because he can easily spread them open for him using only his hands. His senses of smell and hearing are probably heightened because of his blindness, so any whimper is immediately detected by him, as well as any perfumes, lotions and lube his partner chooses to use

Uzui: Group sex is definitely his favorite, watching his wives play with his partner to get them ready for him drives him insane, especially if he's getting his cock worshiped at the same time. He also adores fancy and flashy outfits, lingerie, jewelry and kink gear makes him want to fuck his partner in front of a mirror, so both of them can see how beautiful they look for him

Shinobu: Possessive as hell and loves to remind her partner that they belong to her and only her. She'll speak softly but will bite, scratch and leave hickeys all over her partner's skin, especially in visible spots so others can know that her partner is already owned by someone

Sanemi: Violent sex, he'll take out all his frustrations on his partner when they fuck, a hand wrapped tightly around their neck while he splits them open with his cock. He's messy as hell and will leave his partner covered in his saliva, cum and their own blood once he's done with them

(Bonus) Kagaya: Huge softie and really enjoys taking his time, not in a teasing way but to help make his partner feel more relaxed when they're with him. Slow sex is greatly preferred for him and if his partner is okay with it, he'll ask Amane to join them and just have a very calm threesome, usually just kissing both of their bodies and tasting them for as long as he can

Kokushibo: Greatly enjoys marking, as well as knifeplay, he'll always make sure to carve his name somewhere on his partner's body and lick up the blood afterwards. Also loves to fill his partner up with his cum and make them describe the feeling of being full of his seed

Douma: Loves religious roleplay and being worshiped by his partner. He'll have them call him "My perfect God" and do as many degrading things as he feels like telling them to. Would love to fuck his partner in front of his followers to show how benevolent and adoring he is to those who listen to his words

Akaza: Words go completely against his actions, he'll praise and coo at his partner for being able to take him so we'll, while shoving them down at his cock and grinding their insides as roughly as he can. Most of the time he doesn't even notice that he's being rough, he gets very caught up in the moment and just lets his instincts take over his body

Hantengu: Greatly enjoys having sex with his partner and his clones at the same time, so he can feel five times as much pleasure. Needs praise, it fuels him more than anything, especially while he's grabbing and groping his partner's body while his clones pound away at their holes

Gyokko: Twin cocks and sentient vases, he enjoys being stroked and treated like a superior, will try to act smug but will end up stumbling over his words more and more depending on how excited he gets. Loves to have his partner immobilized one way or another, like a living piece of art for him to play with and admire

Gyutaro: Any time, any place, for any reason. He gets horny as soon as his emotions get the best of him so him and his partner will have sex whenever he's upset, angry, happy or just bored. Doesn't know how to handle praise so he'll just shove his tongue in his partner's mouth as soon as they start to make him flustered. If he really trusts someone he'll offer to have a threesome with Daki, when that happens he expects his partner to worship her and take him like a good fuck toy

Daki: Extremely sensual with the way she presents herself and it's impossible to miss her hints at wanting to have sex with someone. Loves being worshiped and worshiping her partner as well, especially if she gets to make them praise her while she touches them. Can be rough and degrading towards her partner if she feels like it, loves to slap their face red for being such a pervert and needing her this much

(Bonus) Muzan: Absolutely brutal with how he has sex, no matter what. He's possessive, dominant and inhumanly strong, if he goes easy on his partner they'll at least end up with a shattered femur. Will have them bound and at his complete mercy, loves to watch his partner come undone, getting covered in blood, tears and cum while begging for his mercy. His partner will be treated like a living sex doll and be repeatedly used until he's thoroughly satisfied, which can take anywhere from hours to whole days

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rollingsins · 10 months

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Hi! This is a compact reaction to your 3 drabbles. There's nothing better than reading your writing before going to sleep.

...how the hell will Tara explain the messy living room? Oh my Rage just took over, no biggie. As if

Oh did not. She did NOT threaten R to call her dad. Wow. She really must think that R is dying, otherwise she wouldn't even waste a thought on that man

"Minor crimes" excuse me, Tara, if you consider butchering people to be a minor crime, then what is a big crime in your opinion?? Our Pookie really is so unhinged

Aww, a Sam and R day. We love to see it!

A RACCOON?? THATS YOUR EXCUSE?? WTF MAN. Wow. For a murderous psychopath she really doesn't act well under pressure... a raccoon messed up the living room 🤦🏻‍♀️ And poor Sam believes it.

Ah yes. Who doesn't know the violent, thieving and randomly peeing raccoons.

Lol R saw right through her. She knows her little demon chihuahua so well! Love that.

Onto Vada!

Well... watching a movie without shirts sure is much more interesting. I can't blame Vada for suggesting that. It adds to the experience and further enhances the viewing pleasure

Come on. I think we all are obsessed with boobs, and I am sure that R deep down also likes to see Vadas every chance she gets.

"Those puppies" ong nothing ruins the mood quicker than weird pet names. Vada really is acting like horny boy.

No thoughts head empty applies to Vada, just that her head is filled with Rs boobs. Honestly so relatable though...

Jealous Wednesday let's go!

💀 Wednesday is not a fan of pet names in general but baby? Nah. If it weren't R she would annihilate whoever said that. I love how literal Wednesday is.

Honestly a jealous Wednesday is incredibly hot but her deadpan personality is just so funny

"We are going to copulate" OMFG THAT TOOK ME OUT. How the fuck did Wednesday manage to think of the weirdest and most hilarious synonym for sex and use it in such a serious/what should be sexy situation.

Dominant Wednesday is everything. There's nothing hotter honestly. But I really can't get over copulate. That really made me laugh out loud. Wednesday definitely needs to take a flirting class cause that ain't it.

All 3 drabbles were amazing!! I love the chaotic nature of all 3. I hope you will feel better soon and be less stressed out! Here is a hug for you 🤗 🫂

Ahhh hi babe! Oh, how I adore you and your asks. 🙏🏼

Tara and her raccoon, Wednesday being a hot little mfer with her jealously and Vada being a teenage boy as per usual 😭

Glad you enjoyed!

#as

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spikedsoul · 1 year

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maid's worst nightmare - ch 13

i keep working on this one instead of literally anything else haha oops sorry monty simps...

previous chapters

The awkward silence that hung in the air was palpable and you wished very badly that it would suffocate you. Ludwig's eyes flicked between you and Bowser, all three of you looking like a deer in headlights; this was your first experience knowing the king could actually get stunned. It seemed to stretch on for an agonizing eternity, your heart getting loud in your ears the longer nothing happened. It was like everyone was afraid of the consequences of breaking the silence, but it would have to be done at some point.

Bowser and Ludwig seemed to have the same idea at the same time and suddenly everything was chaos and cacophony.

"It's not what you think!" Bowser yelled, violently jerking off of you.

At the same time, Ludwig covered his eyes and shouted, "Dad, what the fuck!"

Which prompted Bowser to point a threatening finger at his son and growl, "Watch your fuckin' language, son!"

While mildly amusing to hear, you absolutely weren't going to miss your chance to escape the messy situation - it was between father and son, not you, the lowly, unspecial handmaid. So, you did the only thing you could do.

You bolted.

You scrambled onto your feet unceremoniously and sprinted for the door, which thankfully was still wide open from how Ludwig had barged in. Behind you, Bowser spluttered a few times as he struggled to get any words out, apparently not happy with your chosen flight response.

Ludwig's head whipped around to watch you run. "Spit it out, man!" he practically snapped at his father.

Finally, Bowser was able to find his words. "GRAB HER!" he bellowed.

The ground under your feet seemed to shake with the force of his bellow and that just spurred you on quicker, practically leaping down the stairs. Whatever goodwill he'd curried with you from that morning had been ripped away just like that from the fear he now instilled. Behind you, you heard the few steps from Ludwig before either they stopped, or you got too far away. Option two didn't seem likely so you hoped somehow it was option one.

You'd just gotten to the ground floor when something made you skid to a stop; despite the speed at which you'd gotten down the stairs, your breath caught in your lungs, only rushing out in a soft whoosh when Ludwig landed behind you.

"Hey, lady," he snapped, grabbing your wrist. "How dare you run from dad?!"

"Don't touch me!" you shrieked. At the very least it forced you to tear your eyes away from the procession of Beanbean Kingdom knights and royals that was slowly making its way into the main hall. Ludwig jumped a little, surprised at the wild look in your eye and the shrill tone of your voice, but made a grab for your shirt when you started to back away.

What the fuck? Why was this all happening to you? A sick feeling wormed its way through you when you thought you recognized one of the knights guarding the prince. What were you supposed to do now, retreat straight back to the koopa king like the coward you were? Or risk him seeing you?

"Hey." Ludwig tugged on the hem of your shirt but you didn't move. You couldn't. You felt rooted to the spot, frozen in your panic. Ludwig growled, but when you still didn't respond he went with a different tactic. "Dad! I got her, but there might be a problem!"

For whatever reason (beyond just your violent reaction) he was hesitant to physically push you around. You were simultaneously grateful and frustrated by that, because it meant you'd stay exactly where you were. The procession was closer now, and you could definitely make out individual faces among them; your stomach lurched when the face you feared above all others turned your direction. You blanched.

But just a split second later, Bowser landed heavily in front of you, immediately blocking your view of him with his large shell, those spikes just a foot or so away from you. "Ludwig, get her out of here," he said calmly.

"She won't move," Ludwig huffed back.

"Well well, King Bowser, to what do I owe the displeasure of this visit?" Prince Peasley cut in. Bowser glanced at you over his shoulder - your eyes flicked to his, but that was all you could manage to do. His nostrils flared as he inhaled and exhaled sharply, and only then did he look back at the prince to address him.

"Measly Peasley," Bowser sneered. His tail slowly curled around your legs, the two spikes near the tip carefully angled away from you. You stumbled just a bit as your frozen limbs were forced to move. "We've got your supply of ore ready to go, but more importantly, I need you to give Peach a message for me."

The prince crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "A message?" he repeated skeptically, "Why don't you do it yourself?"

"Because I doubt she'd believe me. But you're her good friend, so I know she'll believe you." He snickered quietly and reached his hand back, gingerly placing it on your back to urge you forward. The pressure was gentle, just enough to make you peek around his side, but he kept you close to his warm hide. "See, I stole this pretty thing when I visited her recently. I'm sure she's missing her precious handmaid, so I'd like to offer a trade: the maid for a power star."

Oh. So that's what you were to him: a pawn, something to be traded. And the poor, deluded koopa somehow thought you were worth a whole power star. At this rate, you'd never be free again.

Peasley immediately straightened his back, flipping his blonde hair when he saw you as his carefully neutral expression slowly dropped, apparently utterly aghast that Bowser could ever do something like steal someone who wasn't Peach herself.

"You fiend," Peasley hissed. Bowser cackled at the word. "What makes you think I won't try to rescue her myself, hm?" His chest puffed out in a self-important manner, a defiant scowl on his face.

"My liege, that's my girlfriend who went missing," the demon of a man spoke up. "Please, we have to get her back!"

You stiffened against Bowser. Your lungs stopped working (again), as did your heart, as an all too familiar terror seized your nervous system. Fuck! Honestly, you'd rather stay with Bowser than go back to him!

A feral snarl ripped from Bowser’s throat the second the knight took a step toward you, the king taking a half step forward with a slight pivot so that he was partially blocking you, his fangs bared, tail encircling you, and free claws held up threateningly. The hand on your back shifted so that his fingers hooked lightly around your side; despite the defensive stance, he kept his claws from digging into you.

Everyone seemed to be surprised by the reaction but no one brought it up.

"If any of you try to steal her from me before the trade, I'll rip your fuckin' arms off!" he hissed.

"Rodney, get back," Peasley ordered. Rodney glared at you as he did so, but his prince missed the look entirely since he was focused on Bowser.

Bowser did not miss the glare.

Without warning, he spat a fireball at Rodney's feet, just shy of hitting him. Rodney yelped as he jumped back from the smoldering hole that now marred the carpet. To his credit, Prince Peasley seemed undeterred by the aggressive show.

"Oh, come now," he said with a smile you were sure he thought was a winning one, "Surely we can figure out something you want from us to get her back? At which point I can return her safely to our dear Princess Peach."

"So you'll gimme the Beanstar?" Bowser snorted.

Peasley frowned, glancing toward you. "Well, no. Even if she still were a citizen of the Beanbean Kingdom, anyone less than myself or the queen wouldn't be… er, worthy of that trade. Sorry, handmaiden. No offense, King Miserable, but what makes you think Princess Peach would hand over her power star?"

Great question, you mused. You bit your lip and glanced up at Bowser.

He smirked, slowly resuming a more relaxed position - but his fingers didn't leave your side. "She won't," he stated matter-of-factly. "She'll send her little boytoy Mario, and potentially Luigi too, to come rescue her. The moment they leave her alone I can send in my troops for a full scale attack to secure the star."

"And now she'll know not to do that since you just told me," Peasley smirked triumphantly. The smirk faded when Bowser just laughed. He wouldn't get a chance to ask anything further, though, because Bowser abruptly turned his back to the entourage, scooping you into his arms as he did.

You were too surprised to even squeak.

"I guess one way or another we'll find out what Peach's true colors are," he hummed, glancing down at you. You looked away, one of your hands pressed against his chest in an attempt to both keep some kind of space between you, and keep you a little grounded with what just happened. Just like in your dream, his skin was malleable and rather soft. "Ludwig, escort them out," he ordered his son as he headed for the stairs.

"I wanna talk to you later," Ludwig grumbled as he passed by the two of you. Bowser just grunted, leaving his eldest son to handle the departure of the Beanbean posse as he carried you back up toward his room.

#bowser #bowser x reader #bowser x y/n #super mario bros #fanfic #fanfiction

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reficu1 · 1 year

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hi :p for matchups, i hope this okieee <3 genshin and bsd

my names kuro, no gender preference. im gender-fluid, i look like a cute girl and a cute boy depending on how i want haha. im INTP, depends on day. also virgo.

like idols, skincare, vampires (im vampirekin/i am one), cats (i love taking care of them and cats usually nice to me since i know how best to approach them). love music (gothic rock, neoclassical dark wave, breakcore, experimental rock, ec). love fashion aLOT, im very very into vkei, lolita/ouji and gyaru (i usually dress in kogyaru fashion). love night-time and wandering streets at night, especially in cities where its active and people are around. good food (rare beef, curry, mooncakes, mantou, castella, manju). would have cat ears and tail if i could.

dislike dogs 👎 scared of them. being center of attention (i prefer to watch people than be watched by others). dirt (including messy people). people who are very loud and annoying. birds, anything gross or violent. i dislike fashion styles i wouldnt wear.

hobbies include designing clothes, sewing, listening to music, baking, attending festivals, interior design.

personality: i prefer to listen to others than talk, but depending on who/topic i can speak for hours and hours. relaxed mainly, i dont like being energetic or loud/fastpaced. very picky with food/texture/fashion/literally everything. i comes off weird/scary to a lot of people but it doesnt bother me, its nice. can be a little lazy, i let people do first move. prefer doing things my way, and isolate from others a bit. very careful with how i look.

insecurities: not many, wish i was taller (162cm). dont want to gain weight (in the 40's of kg). i guess maybe how pale i am but im sensitive to sun so i cant help it.

thank chuuuuu

I match up for you...

Xinyan. I think you would agree on your best interests for sure! Of course, you may not be a songwriter, the main thing is that you share her hobby, for which she was offended in her childhood. Of course, now there are no problems with the recognition of her work, but still. She is so full of energy that she would take you with her to her concerts or other festivals. Imagine how one day Xinyan gathers all his friends from Líyuè, you are asked to design clothes for the guys and ideas for the interior of the festival. In such preparation for the event, there is work for everyone, and everyone would help each other. I want to note right away that Xinyan has a violent reaction, and you mentioned that you don’t like loud people, but based on her manner of communication, I can say that she strives to evoke positive emotions and comfort in people in the company. In the circle of close friends, she does not entertain them, she maintains a kind and cheerful atmosphere. Yes, that's why at first you did not immediately consider each other.

Koyo Ozaki. I want to say right away that in the works of bsd I try to be realistic and work with character analyzes, so they can be preyedat by negativism. Her manner of communication includes pathos and a dramatic and stormy character. She has a beautiful speech and can use metaphors well. "A flower grown in darkness will not survive on the side of light." I'm sure she would try to do whatever you want. But Koyo does not have a wasted maternal instinct (sorry that I use this incorrect term), so she would take the position of an auditor who would watch you, and Koyo is one of those parents who are convinced that they know better how their child lives and what to choose. BUT! You can consider your interaction after Koyo's conversation with Dazai, then she reconsidered her attitude towards you and it would already be more like a healthy relationship. Of course, she would continue to follow you, give in, help, indulge. It's just that it's all part of the consequences of her psychological trauma. She wouldn't want to lose you.

#genshin match up #genshin matchups #xinyan #xinyan x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #bsd x reader #bsd matchup #bsd match up #koyo ozaki #koyo ozaki x reader #bsd koyo

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koishua · 2 years

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━━━ 𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 · 𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

synopsis finishing up a project with jake too late at night when it starts storming outside, you agree to spend the night with him.

genre fluff, academic rivals/childhood friends!au (?)

length 1,844k words

warnings some mild cursing but it's nothing bad i swear, reader has a fear of loud and sudden noises which translates into a fear of thunder, some heavily simping jake istg he is down so bad for reader cnncnc

taglist (will only be able to tag fifty people, unfortunately ;-;) @junityy @gyuuss @intokook @leavethemonsteralive @iuwon @envirae @fairyjunn @rutosruru-world @luvholicz @renjunvrse @eterni-ki @dweio @rae-blogging @enhyseob @jitaros @jdyunvrs @kdyism @yourlocalhotgf @strwberrydinosaur @mark-lees-world @99swinwin @99outros @heejojo @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @tyongishs @lovinglyyours-jimin @yutaalove @yangianwon @icywhatim @sunshine-skz @twntycm @sooblvr @whoe-dis @thegracerammy @injanggarden @90sni-ki @wccycc @atinyyylove @chewychubchuu @en-core-z @taegicarus @marknaeroni @enhacolor @heelariously @chaebb @changminurheart @shekllls @eternallyhyucks @yjwfav @jensrose

“it’s raining.”

you sigh, completely aggravated by the fact that you would have to spend more time inside your sworn rival’s house after staying late to finish a project together— fate had a distinct way of screwing you over, it seems. you could not make it back to your own place when the weather was this violent, especially not at this hour.

“i know.”

he offers a small sympathetic smile, one that makes you wonder if it had been a mirage or a hallucination. it fades away quickly as you gather all of your supplies to clean up the messy floorspace that had fallen victim to various cut up papers and eraser dust. you had never been able to tolerate him much, however the research and work you had done with him was nothing short of effective, even great, much to your dismay.

“you could stay over for the night. tomorrow is saturday anyways, my parents won’t mind.” he barely catches his own tongue from slipping out the words i wouldn’t mind too before scoffing loudly to cover up his error.

you reach inside your pocket to retrieve your phone, only to see that the time had ticked by faster than you had realised, a stark white 10:58 glaring at your face when your screen wakes up. spending the night with shim jake of all people? could you really do that?

“it’s not like anyone would risk it to pick you up when it’s storming like crazy.” he adds with a knowing glint in his eye. infuriating, yet correct, he was— who in their right mind would go out when the sky literally looked like it was about to fall?

there is nothing much to think over, knowing how the only logical answer was indeed spending the night inside the safe confines of the shims’ house. so without complaint, you plop down on the small sofa in the corner of his room and sigh, “yeah, i guess.”

only two small problems, though.

a thought springs into his mind along with a particularly amusing thought. he would have offered to lend you his mother’s clothes for the night, but the image of you dressed in his most comfortable hoodies entices him too much to not pull out said articles of clothing and fling it at your face, “you can wear these if you don’t want to stay in those stiff jeans and shirt anymore.”

problem one, solved, kind of.

you sputter a few incomprehensible words, “what? yours? no way.” jake had expected the reaction and laughs with glee, entertained to the fullest. you fume at the handsome boy’s actions, wondering why your teacher had partnered you up, knowing fully well how much he tended to get on your nerves.

“suit yourself,” he rolls onto his bed nonchalantly, “go ahead and suffer instead of swimming in soft and heavenly cotton fabrics.”

you stare at the grey oversized hoodie, contemplating where you had gone wrong with your life to reach a moment such as this one. only this once, you think to yourself and garner as much will you have as possible to swallow your pride. internally, jake punches the air in triumph when you grit your teeth and close the bathroom door behind you to change into the set of makeshift pajamas he had thrown at you.

his heart beats at his chest frantically once you peek out of the door frame, his hood hanging low over your forehead. oh shit, he gulps, finally realising what terrible deed he had done to himself. i am not going to survive this, he cries internally when you finally return to your seated position on his couch with an annoyed frown on your lips.

jake had known you for approximately thirteen years and never had he ever felt as nervous and excited to be around you as now, regardless of your supposed relationship status of being the two rivals at school— he was a simp and he can not deny that itty bitty little tiny fact. still, he puts on a sly smirk to hide the hints of pink on his face and offers the comfort of his bed for you to sleep in.

“because i am not as terrible as you make me out to be, you can take this piece of heaven tonight and i will go sleep in the living room.” you roll your eyes at his antics, knowing well enough that he did not intend to let down his usual insufferable act any time soon.

stupid, you curse in your head at his propostion, sleep on your bed? where it probably smells of you and that stupid perfume of yours? not a fucking chance. “of course, i am not going to be hogging your bed. it’s yours, you should stay. just give me a pillow and a blanket and i will go get the couch.”

“my mom will murder me if she finds out i let our guest take the least comfortable surface to sleep in, believe me. it’s not like i’m doing this because i care about you or anything, so just take it.” he spits out lies after lies, not believing a single word that comes out of his mouth.

first off, his mom would not murder her son. she would probably be on his trail for a good day or two, but she wouldn’t go as far as homicide— hopefully, that was. second of all, that couch in his living room was probably softer and more relaxing than his bed, but he wouldn’t tell you that, and finally, yes he did. he cared so much it was frankly embarrassing to be caught in a crush as deep as the one he had developed for you.

with none of you swallowing the bullet and accepting one another’s deals, you suggest that you both share the bed if he insisted on you taking it and you refuse to just let him give it to you so freely like that, to which he almost chokes out a perplexed and positively flustered “what?”

he doesn’t, thankfully.

instead, he clears his throat in a half dignified manner and stiffly nods in your direction, suddenly hesitant on meeting your eyes. “yeah, whatever. make a pillow wall between us or something just in case you feel like it.”

not an hour later, there is a single fluffed up pillow dividing the two halves of the semi-large mattress and two distressed teens lying face up towards the ceiling, backs straight as a board. you slightly angle your head to take a glance at his tense side profile, “if you try to do anything sketchy while i’m asleep, i will make sure to never let you see the light of the day ever again.”

you know that he would never even think about anything remotely close to something heinous— you have known him for over a decade, you’re pretty sure he could not even hurt a fly— but the warning seems only appropriate as it is the first time you are spending the night with him, no matter the circumstance.

to that, he laughs, loosening up a bit before replying, “if anything, i should be telling you not to do anything strange. i know i’m hot, but we aren’t exactly that close yet, if you know what i mean.”

the cheeky grin on his lips makes the swift slap on his stomach feel so much more rewarding for you. jake had expected as much, so it doesn’t take him by surprise— it only serves to his enjoyment. he whines, “you’re so mean, you know that, right?”

“want me to show you something meaner?” you threaten him, words void of any real venom and perhaps your choice of words weren’t the best for the moment, because if only you could see the flush of red on his ears when he imagines a scene he really should not have with his childhood acquaintance— were you friends? were you nothing more than just a pair of competing classmates? it was unclear where you stood on the relationship alignment chart. maybe you were more?

“just go to sleep.” he mutters out, curt and low.

and so the room fell silent once again for a long stretch of time. you almost believe that he had fallen peacefully asleep, but a clap of thunder makes you jump out of your own skin, hands reaching out to grab the closest thing for a feeling of safety, not fully realising that it was jake’s hand that you had reached over the pillow for in that moment of shock. the sound had been deafening, almost as if the clouds had clashed right above your roof, sending chills down your spine by the sudden drop in heat.

halfway sent to grave by your jump, he brushes off the flutter in his chest when he feels your fingers wrapped around his large palm, concern ruling over the butterflies when he sees you clamping your eyes shut. your grip on him is tight and he wonders if you are scared of thunders, then he remembers the numerous times you had been taken aback by various loud noises.

he shifts his weight around to lie on his side while you still have his hand on a death grip. he laces his fingers through yours and pulls your blanket closer to your chin, tucking you in as nicely as possible. “the storm doesn’t look like it will stop soon. do you want to watch a movie to distract yourself or something? i can lend you my headphones to block out some of the noise.”

you furrow your brows, sinking deeper into the pillow, “no, i’m fine. it was just too abrupt and gave me a small scare.”

the boy is unconvinced, seeing as how his arm had started to go numb by the pressure you put into squeezing the life out of him— he lied, it wasn’t that strong by any means, but it felt pretty snug anyways. he doesn’t push much further though, letting you do whatever you want on the other side of the pillow that had been pushed flat by his arm that was laying over it.

“if you say so.”

after a few hiccups here and then with you trying to cover up each time you had felt your soul leave your body because of the booming weather outside, jake had fallen asleep, still facing your direction while you held onto his hand. you don’t know when it was your turn to fall into slumber, but before you know it, you were out like a candle.

when the morning comes and he sees you right in front of his face, he holds in a shriek. really, he does hold in a short scream, because woah, that had felt like a dream. he takes in a gulp of air and wills himself to calm down, though that short bubble of peace is disrupted once again when he notices your intertwined hands under the blankets.

he holds back yet another wail.

a/n. ahh i hope you enjoyed this very cheesy jaeyoon being a hardcore simp lmfao i finally finished this little drabble nsnxnc anyways, i would highly appreciate a reblog/feedback (as do pretty much all content creators bahaha) and yeah <3

#aussie boy comin thru beep beep #— to infinity and queueyond!#enhypennetwork #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen x gender neutral reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen jake #jake fluff #jake scenarios #jake imagines #sim jake #jake x reader #enhypen drabbles

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angelguk · 3 years

Text

oc is back on her bullshit!!! miss out and about im gonna forget about you!! im so sorry for this part actually. descriptions of oc sleeping with someone who is not jaykay (warning!! infidelity but not really). suppressed feelings on jks side. chayoung is still Suspicious. everyone is now mildly shitty actually. roughly 2k. listen to not gonna cry by emma steikbakken and stranger by tove lo.

titled — fuel to the fire

It's been three days since you last spoke to Jeongguk (and four weeks since your break-up). Not about your relationship or the horrendous state your sudden break-up left you in, or about the fact that Jeongguk had moved on before your heart had even registered the cracks he'd left in his wake. No, not that – none of the actual life changing important stuff, only him briefly mentioning that you needed to hand in your event proposal for the student committee before the deadline approached. It was unbelievably strange to watch the person you'd basically surgically attached to your being behave like a complete stranger. It didn't help that he didn't seemed unfazed approaching you, while you on the other hand actively avoided him and all the usual corners of campus where he liked to lurk (which sucked because those corners were some of your favourites places too). But there he was, ambling to you with an ease that made your gut violently twist, acrid bile slithering up your throat.

He'd spoken so freely, the sound of your name on his tongue a brand on your skin. You'd frozen, heart a wild animal locked in your chest, before you could summon the mettle to look him in the face.

The first thing you noted was that his hair was no longer long. Dark locks cropped short around his ears now and casually gelled back, idle strands playfully framing his face. His features are what you settled on next, eager eyes remapping the sharp slope of his nose, easily identifying the sneaky dimple on his cheek begging to burst free and then shifting down to the dark mark right below his soft pink lips.

Your first instinct was to pull him into your arms but they were frozen, glued to the table beneath you before that blinding rage rose it's head, sparking through your veins the longer you looked at him.

He didn't even seem to realise it, rattling off the list of things you needed to email him for the spring scavenger hunt or else the event could be cancelled (which sucked because that was an idea you had created with Jeongguk and now you were stuck carrying the bulk of the event alone).

Your replies had been curt, blunt as they left your lips before you'd pointedly turned away. Maybe if you had looked a little longer you would detected the lingering gaze he granted your features, how he shuffled on his feet, unsure and hesitant, words on his tongue longing to be released. Eventually he had swallowed him down, mumbled a quick goodbye and wandered off, the hands shoved in the pockets of his baggy jeans aching to hold yours again.

You, however, didn't miss the muffled giggles of girls he passed on his way out, a sick icky feeling clogging your throat. You didn't mind the fan girls when you were dating because you knew Jeongguk was yours and yours alone. But now? When he'd moved on not even a weak after your break-up you didn't know how to feel. Jealous, maybe. Furious, absolutely. For a second, you considered throwing your mini stapler at their huddled heads, weighing the odds of possibly going to jail for assault. But there was no reason to truly justify that reaction, not when Jeongguk was single and apparently available for everyone. But did that feeling still brew inside of you? Turning into something black and vile and vengeful? Perhaps.

And maybe that's why you're here now, the body of some boy pressing against yours, your bare back prickling as the night wind grazes against it. The dress you'd plucked from your closet was criminal, clinging to the dips and rounds of your body perfectly, a silky emerald backless piece that shimmered beneath the soft lights of the porch you'd abruptly accoupled. His name might be Lucas – you may have been able to accurately remember that three drinks ago but you're beyond that now. And it didn’t really matter when all you wanted was for him to fuck you. He's also big and huge, massive shoulders caving you in, and his hands is snaking it's way up your thighs, ginger kisses peppered along the span of your neck.

Which is not what you wanted. Not in a one-night stand at least. You don't want soft and gentle, you want something wild – feral even. Something harsh enough to wipe the memory of Jeongguk's hands on your skin, something bright and fierce and new. Something to make you feel alive again.

Lucas gets the hint soon enough, spurred on by the bold movement of your hand guiding his closer, right between your thighs were you wanted him. Deft harsh fingers on your clit followed, pressing against the damp fabric with no remorse. You couldn't help the whimper that floats from your lips, the tension stringing through your limbs finally alleviated.

"Cute," he murmurs, seemly pleased judging from the broad smile that tugs at his lips. You make a noise of agreement in return, drawing in him for a kiss as the pad of this thumb toys with you. There's the sillage of whiskey on his tongue, something that nearly makes you freeze because you're used to tasting that on Jeongguk. But you beat down that apprehension, a muffled moan breaking past your lips when Luca's tongue mets yours.

"My place?" He suggests, lips glimmering from your lip gloss. You smile, a familiar giddiness bubbling in your chest when he shifts a little, hard bulge bumping into the base of your stomach. You give in a little bit more easily than you normally would have, clinging onto his hand as he guides you out of the party towards the neighboring building. Chayoung and Sieun are going to kill you later for this but you simply can't force yourself to care.

"You're in that frat?" You finally murmur out when he keys himself into the building. Lucas hums, glowing under the moonlight when he smiles at you.

"Mhm, Sigma Chi for life, babe."

Babe. A complete one-eighty from the bunny you'd grown accustomed to.

It hits a little harder when he gets you into his room, the mess unlike anything you'd ever seen at Jeongguk's (he's very anal but his room and how clean it should be, specific down even to the various scents he kept around to ensure the air he breathed was perfect). Lucas was the average frat boy, messy but neat enough that you find yourself naked on his bed a couple moments later, his tongue deep inside of you. Your brain couldn't help but recall the last time a head had settled between your thighs, Jeongguk eager to lick out the pool of cum he'd left there. But this wasn't him and as of five seconds ago you decided you’re no longer allowed to think about him.

Lucas makes it easy, tongue skilled and swift around your clit, a fervour in his movements that leaves you dripping down his chin. Jeongguk evaporates from your mind entirely when Lucas descends on you, his mouth glistening and his tongue tasting of you. His kisses are hungry now, forceful, just what you need. Your palms stray down his wide back, a strange tingle erupting in your gut when your nails dig and he groans right down your throat.

"You're so big," the comment is a mumbled slur, lost in Lucas's mouth. For a second, you think he misunderstands, his hard cock twitching against your thigh. You're actually talking about his shoulders; they're broad, muscles rippling every time he shifts to press you harder into the mattress. You like the weight of him on you, it makes forgetting easier.

But Lucas knows what you're saying, discerning your wandering fingers and clouded eyes well.

"I know," he returns with lopsided smile. "Perks of swimming."

Oh, of course he was an athlete. Maybe you had a type after all.

Before Jeongguk has a moment to resurface Lucas has you in his arms, easily twisting you around so that your face is buried in his sheets. It short-circuits you, brain sparking with how large and huge and strong he feels. The following sudden press of his lips against your ass doesn’t help, your heart thumping loud in your head as your shuffle onto your elbows.

"Good?" Lucas asks, rising to fetch a condom from his drawer.

"Mhm," you return, thighs trembling when he returns. He easily lines himself up with you, the head of his cock pressed into you coaxing a low groan from your throat. The first thrust hurts, probably because you're body isn't as on board with this as you thought. But that changes quick when Lucas's hand slides underneath you, swiftly settling on your clit until you're leaking around his length, skin tight with tension and sweat beading along the length of your back. The stretch feels strange – he's larger than Jeongguk, wider. At first it's too uncomfortable to feel good. Your senses narrow on the sound of your meeting instead, loud and lewd, your pussy squelching with every drag of his cock inside of you. The ripple of your ass helps you relax too, a pleasant almost dizzy feel spreading through your body when Lucas draws you closer, shoving himself deep inside, the whine floating from his lips painting your skin warm. He fucks you hard enough to leave marks, large fingers digger into your hips with every resounding collide of your bodies. You shiver when he finishes, a grimness appearing on your skin. It's vanished by Lucas tugging you close, his mouth light on your lip as he kisses you, cock slowly slipping out.

It feels better the second round. He's perceptive, quickly learning how you like your clit touched, or that you like when his teeth sink into your skin rather hard. You actually cum this time, spread open over his massive strong thighs, his length splitting you open, the stretched welcomed.

You forgot about Jeongguk and your sore heart for a total of two wonderous hours, before your phone starts blaring from your discarded mini-bag on the floor. Lucas is the one that gets it for you.

"Hi?"

"Y/N! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" Chayoung's tone is aggrieved, wavering through the sound of some song blasting in the background.

"Oh. I left." You hope she gets it, doesn't press any further. But what was Chayoung if not a button pusher?

"WHERE? YOU WENT HOME? WHEN?"

"No, I'm not home. And awhile ago." Lucas is pointedly not listening, pattering through the adjacent bathroom of his room. The pressure ebbs when he turns the tap on loud.

"WHAT?"

"I said I'm not home! And please stop yelling!"

There's a loaded pause. You can feel Chayoung thinking through the line. "Okay... Who are you with?"

"Fine, yes I'll meet you there," you say instead, completely ignoring her question. Lucas is out of the bathroom now, massive and still naked as his knee sinks into the mattress. He crawls to you as you scramble to get out, phone wedged between your shoulder and ear. "Yeah, yeah I know I'm sorry. I'll come get you."

"What the hell are you talking about Y/N? Who are you with?" Chayoung's words are bitter now, stinging as they hit your ear.

"Gimme five seconds, I'll be right there," you return, swiftly cutting the call. Chayoung is going to kill you the second you see her but you'd rather attempt to live through that than Lucas overhearing you gossip about him on the phone with your friend. The man in question is watching you with a chary gaze as you hurriedly tug your dress over your head. "Sorry," you supply, pulling the hem down hard over your butt. "My friend needs me."

He nods slow, strawberry blond locks swaying. He's actually very hot, an observation that has you stilling for a second.

"Cool. See you around, yeah?" His eyes are round and big, bright even – almost like Jeongguk's. That breaks the spell.

"Yeah, see you around." And then you take the chance to flee, bag swung over your shoulder. Except Lucas halts you with a low cough, raising his hand, something bunched up in it.

"You forget this, though." It's your underwear, red and lacy. Your cheeks match the colour of fabric, flushed hot as you pluck it out of his wide palm. Lucas watches you slip them on with a smug smile, one that you should hate but there's a humour in it that blooms through you. He lets you part with a fond squeeze of ass when he gets up to open the door, still grinning.

"See you, Y/N," he says, leaning against the doorframe. He's very tall too, how did you miss that?

"Yeah," you squeak back, eyes shifting from his face with speed. "See you."

He's not Jeongguk, and that's good. He also makes it easy for you to forget about Jeongguk, another plus. And you can't help but wonder as you scurry back to the party, that it might be nice to see him again.

—

That sentiment gets jumbled when Chayoung avidly spills to you later that she'd stumbled into Jeongguk with his hands tangled with another girls, leading her right out of the party as Lucas had lead you. It stings, of course it does, but not as much as the first one. Not when Lucas is in your DMs, his messages sweet albeit corny, and you can still recall the taste of you on his tongue.

But despite everything, even with Jeongguk a new stranger and Lucas's body warming yours, you haven’t truly let go. You can feel it in how you cling to the clothes Jeongguk had left in your closet. He hadn't requested to come pick them up yet, a fact that keeps a wedge in the door you're not sure you can close alone. Your heart still spikes when you see him on campus, and there's a home game coming around the corner that you're longing to go to. Because you still want to see him. Still want to be by his side Sometimes it felt nice to want to forget but you couldn't – not yet at least, not until you know whether he wants to forget about you too.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #bts x reader #bts angst #jungkook scenario

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2goth2moth · 3 years

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Hi! How are you doing?🤗

This is my first request that I ever made soooo I hope I'm doing everything okay😅

If I may ask for an alpha!werewolf x reader smut where the reader just flirted with another wolf to make their alpha jealous? And his reaction is.. i would say special😂 lot of teasing, dirty talk, rough sex and so on😊

Thank you!☺

Here you go, I hope you enjoy! :-)

In a String of Bad Ideas (M!Werewolf x GN!Reader, NSFW)

Word count: 2834

Includes: Jealousy, dirty talk, marking, scent kink, face-fucking, thigh fucking, rough sex

You had never exactly been known for your good ideas. It certainly wasn’t that you were unintelligent, but your years growing up could be read as a roadmap of ideas that would have definitely gone better if you thought them through. In a word: impulsive. But in retrospect, this particular idea was definitely one of your less thoroughly considered.

It started at a party. Well, if you were splitting hairs, it started with Finn. With your boyfriend, and with him not paying enough attention to you. You had both been busy, so you couldn’t really fault him, but still. You hadn’t had sex in a month, and even when both of you were free, he hadn’t really taken you up on offers to even hang out. Enough was enough. So there you were, at a party. Trying to make your boyfriend, your alpha werewolf boyfriend, jealous.

Another alpha werewolf was standing in front of you. In the pulsing lights of the party, you couldn’t really make out any features other than abnormally tall and solidly built, both very much standard for werewolves. You didn’t remember his name, if he’d even told you yet, and you hadn’t really heard the joke he’d just told over the music, but you still laughed indulgently. Your hand found a place on his forearm, and a little flicker of satisfaction went through you as his eyes came to rest on your exposed chest. The shirt you wore was unbuttoned a hole or two too far to be decent, your shorts cuffed an inch or two too high to be entirely appropriate. All on purpose. You weren’t sure where Finn was at the moment, but you had to make the scene look right. You let yourself drift closer to the wolf’s large form, rubbing your hand along his hairy arm.

He began to move his hand down to just graze your hip when another hand, broad and clawed, yanked you away and into a large, distinctly wolfish form. A quick glance up revealed Finn towering behind you.

“Hands off,” he growled, lips pulled to expose sharp teeth in an obvious display of aggression.

The no-name wolf you had been flirting with flashed his own teeth back. The air became so heavy with alpha pheromones that even you could start to smell them. “Why? It’s not like they’re yours.”

Finn’s claws dug into your waist and pulled you flush back against him. “Actually yes,” he said, tone steeped in possessiveness. “They are.” He leaned down to lick the side of your neck messily, keeping eye-contact with the other werewolf the whole time.

You knew that where he ran his tongue was roughly where scent glands would be on a werewolf omega. Such explicit and public claiming was something that he had never done before. It sent heat licking down your spine. He stayed there, staring down the other wolf, lapping at your skin, until Mr. Nameless dropped his gaze to the floor in submission and backed away.

The wet strokes against your neck let up. “Hey Finn,” you said, a little breathless, “Where were you- HEY!”

What you began saying was cut off with a yelp as Finn locked a hand around your wrist and began dragging you through the house after him. You went along with it, hoping that this reaction would lead to something fun. He threw open the door to an empty bedroom and pulled you inside, locking the door behind you.

“What was that?” He asked, backing you against a wall.

You feigned innocence. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play fucking coy. You were all over that guy. You’re basically half naked. What’s going on?”

You sighed. You were going to have to tell him at some point. “I was trying to make you jealous. You haven’t really been paying attention to me lately.”

He crowded even closer to you, wedging his thigh between your legs. You were completely flush with the wall now. “So you let some other wolf’s filthy hands on you...to make me jealous? Why? Are you that desperate for me to fuck you?” His voice was perfectly even and dangerously quiet.

You knew that you were still playing with fire, but you barrelled on ahead. “Yeah, so? It seems to have worked out well enough,” you teased, grinding slightly against the leg he had tucked between yours.

Finn dipped his head down to run his lips along the shell of your ear. “And what exactly makes you think I’m gonna fuck you?”

“Um, this?” You asked, slightly confused, pressing your leg even closer to his groin. His cock was was hard and heated against you.

“Oh, ‘this’?” He said. His breath fanned out over the side of your face and he ground against you properly, letting out a harsh little grunt. “This is getting dealt with, but I certainly won’t be fucking you.”

A whine broke from your throat. “What? Why not? I thought that you would have wanted to prove I was yours.”

“Believe me, I do. By the time I’m done with you, everyone will know who you belong to. But you actually want me to fuck you, and what would be the point in me rewarding bad behaviour?”

“Finn!” You complained, trying desperately to not buck your hips into him.

He chuckled against the skin of your neck. “Shhh. Maybe if you ask me nicely, I’ll let you cum sometime tonight.”

You barely had time to let out a whimper before Finn crushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. It was messy, almost violent, more tooth and tongue than proper kiss. You moaned helplessly into his mouth, grabbing at the hem of his shirt to steady yourself. He quickly moved down to your neck, the skin completely exposed by your own mostly-undone shirt. Sloppy, open-mouthed kisses fell along your collarbone before he latched onto the soft patch of skin under the corner of your jaw. Right where he had licked earlier, right where a werewolf mating bite would go. You gasped loudly as he began sucking a mark there. It was only seconds before the skin felt swollen and bruised. He pulled off with pop and a harsh nip.

“You’re mine, do you understand?” He growled.

Not trusting yourself to say anything, you nodded helplessly. He kept assaulting your neck, leaving hickies and shallow bite marks on every inch of your neck that he could reach. It all felt so good that you didn’t notice his hands wandering until your shirt was ripped clean from your body.

“Hey!” The cold raised goosebumps on your flesh. Finn’s hands began to roam your bare torso, claws lightly scratching lines too soft to really hurt. It was getting difficult to stay fully composed. “I liked that shirt. And I don’t have anything else to wear back home.”

“I’ll buy you a new fucking shirt. And you can wear my shirt back,” he snarled. His hands landed on your hips and he bodily flipped you so that your chest was pressed against the wall. Your shorts and underwear were yanked down your legs in a single motion. “Or walk back naked, I don’t really care.”

Claws dug painfully into your hips as he pulled them back enough to make your spine arch. A single messy kiss on your shoulder was the last thing you felt for several seconds before Finn was licking a slow, broad stripe over your puckered hole. The sudden feeling made you moan and arch even further into the wall.

He took the meat of your ass between his teeth and bit down, hard enough to sting, before soothing the mark with his tongue. “Do you want me to eat you out?” He kissed your other cheek. “Want me to drive you crazy with my tongue?” A bite to the top of your thigh. “I’ll make it so you’re so turned on that you’re dripping, then I’ll fuck your thighs.” Another lick to your hole. “If you really beg for it, maybe I’ll let you suck my cock.”

“P-please!” You pleaded, mind getting fuzzy with what he was saying.

Finn dipped his face back to lap at your perineum. The very tip of his tongue caught on your rim on a particularly teasing upward drag. “I won’t knot you properly, only good little omegas get knots.” You weren’t an omega-- you weren’t even a werewolf-- but the term being thrown at you so casually sent sparks through your blood. It felt so right. “But I’ll mark you so completely that you won’t even be able to burn my scent off of you. No one is ever going to forget who you belong to. Especially not you.”

You barely got to choke out a “Please, Alpha” before he shoved his face back in your ass. His tongue teased your hole on each slow lick, tip not quite breaching the rim. He was definitely just teasing you now, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you beg. At least not yet. You sank your teeth into your lip to stifle any noises and let your head drop forward against the wall. Your attempts to maintain composure were quickly broken down by the feeling of a hot, slippery tongue plunging into you. A strangled moan broke out of your mouth with each flick against your insides.

“O-oohh God.”

Finn’s answering hum was muffled. His jaw kept working against you, slowly drawing more noises of pleasure from you. Saliva was steadily dripping out of his mouth where he moved. It ran in thick rivulets down the inside of your thighs, and with a desperate little movement you ground your hips back into his face.

Claws dug deep into your ass where he was still holding you. With a loud growl and another hard bite to your leg, he pulled himself up to stand behind you. A zip and the sound of fabric rustling sounded before he plastered himself against you, cock hard and leaking against the small of your back.

He kissed the side of your throat, wet and open-mouthed, with the barest scratch of teeth. “Keep your thighs together.”

You obeyed, squeezing your legs together as tightly as you could. You could feel Finn adjust his stance before pushing himself into the miniscule space between them. Despite how tight it was, the movement was slick, aided by his pre-cum and the spit that had dripped down from your ass. The shaft dragged against you on its way through, making you groan low in your throat. The feeling of him fucking your thighs and kissing your neck was good, especially when his hard length ran against your crack and groin. But the touch was just barely a tease. It was nowhere near satisfying to you, and the gentle grazes were making you writhe in a fruitless attempt to get something-- anything-- more fulfilling. The head of his cock appeared between your legs, shiny and glistening red. Pre-cum was beaded at the tip, and you couldn’t help but swipe your finger over it, gathering the clear fluid, and putting it in your mouth. The taste was one you were intimately familiar with, musky and rich, supposedly the same as Finn’s alpha pheromones.

A sharp smack landed on the fullest part of your butt. It felt equal parts painful and pleasurable, and the shock sent you jolting forward into the wall with a yelp.

“Did I tell you you could do that?” Finn huffed into your ear. He began pistoning his hips even harder, dragging his shaft between your thighs, making your legs shake with each stroke. You shook your head. Another hard thrust slammed your chest into the wall. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“No, A-alpha,” you choked out.

“No, I didn’t.” He aggressively sucked another hickey onto your neck, right under the hinge of your jaw, so high that there was no way you’d be able to cover it. “So why exactly did you think it was okay?”

“I want you, Alpha, so bad. I just couldn’t wait.” There was no doubt that your voice was whiny and more than a little pathetic at this point. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

You could feel Finn’s mouth curl into a vicious smile on your skin. “Do you want to suck my cock that bad? Filthy little omega can’t wait for me any longer?”

That word again. “Omega”.

You squirmed in his hands and shook your head, not completely trusting your voice. The way that Finn was talking to you, the way he touched you, like you properly belonged to him, was turning your mind to goo. For a split-second, you wished that you were a werewolf omega so that you could take his bite, so that he could take yours, so that you could possess each other the way mates did.

“Do you want to suck me off?” You nodded, a little shakily. “Hmmmm, I’m not sure I believe you.” He stopped thrusting through your thighs, just standing at your back, massaging your ass. “You may have to convince me.”

Determination crystalized in your chest at the challenge. You turned to face him and sank to your knees. The dick in front of you was massive, flushed and slick with pre-cum, knot beginning to bulge at the base. You kept yourself carefully levelled with the shaft and stared up at Finn through your lashes. This was a dirty move, you knew, he had told you numerous times that seeing you kneeling like this drove him wild. The ball was back in your court, even if you were the one desperate and begging.

“Please, Alpha,” you whined. Exhaling into the sound, you drifted forward slightly, letting his dick hit your cheek, leaving a trail of slick pre-cum on your skin. “Fuck my mouth, cum all over me, please. Make everyone know whose omega I am.”

At the end of it, you opened your mouth and let your tongue hang out. Finn held for a breath, staring down at you. In one swift, sudden movement, he seized your jaw and plunged his cock inside. The intrusion made you gag for a second, but you relaxed your throat around him, settling comfortably into your usual rhythm for this. One clawed hand stayed locked around your chin as he began driving his length into your mouth. The girth of his shaft stretched your mouth uncomfortably. Each stroke sent the head into your throat, making you choke and spasm around him. The feeling sent little spurts of gloriously rich pre-cum shooting into you with each forward thrust. You could see his knot swelling in front of your nose, already close to popping from when he fucked himself between your thighs. You began swallowing around him as well as you could, trying to milk him to completion.

His grip on you was getting harsher, biting into you with those big, sharp claws, and his thrusts were getting sloppier by the second. Each ragged breath was edged with an animalistic growl as he became more desperate for release. He wasn’t talking anymore, just fucking into your open mouth, chasing his pleasure with single-minded determination. You moaned wantonly around him, the sound muffled by his heated flesh. Spit was leaking out of your mouth, mixing with pre-cum and sliding down your chin and dripping down.

“Gonna- fuck- gonna cum!” Finn snarled above you. He dragged you off of his cock, leaving you panting, covered in saliva, mouth hanging open. He pumped himself a few times before squeezing his knot and cumming all over you with an aggressive yell. Pearly ribbons of white, the same thick musk as his pre-cum and pheromones, fell across your face and hair, catching on your eyelashes and landing in your waiting mouth.

You swallowed what landed on your tongue. A large hand swiped cum away from your eyes and rubbed it into the warm skin behind your ear. Opening your eyes, you looked up into the warm, adoring face of your alpha. He brought his hand up to your mouth, coaxing you to lick it clean. Your thighs were still sticky from his mouth and cock, and cum was now dripping from your face onto your chest and legs where they were folded beneath you. Hickies and bruising fingerprints littered your neck and hips. You looked so thoroughly fucked-out, and yet…

“Was I good enough? Do I get to cum now?”

Finn grinned at you, toothy and wicked, promising pleasure and pain in equal measure. “I’m going to take you home now, omega. And I’m going to tease you until you cry, until you’re sobbing and begging me to let you cum. And then I’m going to leave you there for hours. And only when you’ve really learned your lesson will I let you finish.”

He hauled you upright and kissed you, deep and filthy, swallowing up every whimper that fell from your lips at the threat.

#exophilia #terato #monster fucker #monster lover #monster x human #werewolf boyfriend #smut #nsft #minors do not interact #terfs dont fucking touch #bigots dni

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loeyparker · 4 years

Text

hurt her to save her - d.m

pairing: draco x fem!reader

word count: 7k

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of death and torture

plot: getting closer to Draco during sixth year has consequences. Draco realizes that when he’s forced to hurt you in order to keep you safe from Voldemort

a/n: my HP obsession is back so I’ve returned to writing fics but i might have went overboard with this one lmao . it wasn’t requested, but if someone wants part 2 i’m gonna do it <3

Draco Malfoy had a very good memory. Besides being cunning and arrogant, he was also incredibly smart – which is precisely why he was second best in most classes. Behind the cold, uncaring façade the youngest Malfoy put out into the world however, stood a boy who remembered things he probably should have forgotten.

Lately, Draco Malfoy couldn’t remember the last time he felt anything but fear. He attempted to mask the feeling either with anger, determination or indifference but the true, raw feeling of fear was behind it all, much like a dementor guarding all his other emotions. The past summer planted dread and terror deep into his mind and the ink on his skin felt like it was seeping through his skin, entering his veins and poisoning his heart.

By the time he arrived back at Hogwarts for his sixth year, he felt drained. With the weight of the world on his shoulders, the young boy attempted to pretend to be a normal student, despite the countless sleepless nights and stray tears that sometimes escaped through small cracks in the emotional wall he’d built around him over the years. The tears only saw the light of day in the darkness of the Room of Requirement, where he found himself surrounded by old artifacts and silence.

“Draco, Severus has been telling me you seem distracted.” The soft, yet scared tone of Draco’s mother rang throughout the empty, rotting room in the Shrieking Shack. Broken windows allowed for the wind to invade the abandoned building violently and loudly, and to dance around the three figures standing in the dark. It caused a shiver to run up Draco’s spine, but he couldn’t tell if the reaction came from the cold or from Narcissa and Severus’s stares aimed at him.

Draco felt so small under their gaze.

“That’s true, I have been.” Draco admitted, looking forward. He focused on a spider trapping a moth in its web. “With school.” The moth fought, attempted to flap its wings but the web was too sticky. “I have to keep up my grades. Them dropping suddenly would be suspicious.” Draco’s voice didn’t waver, despite his heart beating at a much more rapid pace than normally.

“Lie.” Severus Snape spoke simply. The professor was tasked with taking care of the Slytherin boy, but he wasn’t about to listen to his childish lies while the man knew what he had been seeing in the past months around Hogwarts.

Draco didn’t move.

Narcissa sighed and got closer to her son. She placed her palms on Draco’s pale cheeks and she felt them being hollower than she remembered. Draco still didn’t look at her. The spider was covering the dying moth in his web, fully suffocating the creature.

“My boy, the dead don’t need lovers.” Narcissa’s voice was quiet, regretful even. Her heart ached for the boy who was so quickly deprived of a childhood.

“You cannot forget about the assignment because of a girl.” Snape spoke up, his voice monotonous.

“I haven’t forgotten.” Draco spat back and took a step away from his mother, whose hands dropped. He didn’t feel the lack of her palms on his cheeks, as they left no warmth Draco could feel. “And there’s no girl.”

“Do not lie to us, boy. I have seen you with the Ravenclaw girl, I am not blind.” Snape saw the glances between Draco and you in the Great Hall, he saw the way Draco fixed his gaze on you during DADA. He also caught you walking into the Room of Requirement not long after Draco the previous night. On top of that, Minerva had mentioned how Draco’s recent assignments closely mirrored yours. You had a certain style noticeable in your homework answers, and that style began to be seen in Draco’s own homework which lead everyone to speculate the two students may be closer than everyone thinks.

Before Draco could deny, Narcissa spoke “Under other circumstances, I’d be delighted to hear about a girl in your life.” Her tone was soft, yet it held an edge and sternness to it. “But you have a mission, Draco. Do I need to remind you of the consequences to befall our family if you don’t succeed?”

“No.” Draco spat. He already knew the consequences – loud and clear. They had been drilled into his mind, heart and soul the entire summer. If he couldn’t kill Dumbledore, Voldemort would kill Draco’s entire family instead.

“The girl is another weakness. Another person to add to the death list, Draco.” His mother pleaded. “You know he will kill her if he finds out.”

“I know.”

Draco could feel all the warmth in his body melt away and even his bones felt cold and heavy.

“You can still save her.” Snape spoke. “Focus on you mission, hurt her. Make her believe you don’t love her.”

Draco glanced at the spider one last time, and the moth laid still in the webs of the predator. The wind made the web sway, but only slightly. It was too sturdy to be blown away by any forces.

“Hurt her to save her.” Narcissa’s voice echoed through Draco’s mind all the way back to the castle. The Room of Requirement didn’t appear that night, and so the boy went to bed instead. He entered an empty Slytherin common room and even though the fire was burning, Draco couldn’t feel its warmth. Not even as he knelt in front of the flames, attempting to warm his freezing hands. His movements were mechanic. As he laid in bed that night, he couldn’t remember how exactly he got back into the dorm from the Shack.

However, he remembered events that took place years ago perfectly.

He especially remembered the night of the Yule Ball, two years prior. He can pinpoint the exact moment he spotted you in the crowd of well-dressed students. It was, in his mind, the first time he really, truly saw you. He remembered the small -but noticeable skip of his heart that happened as soon as his eyes landed on your figure. You were smiling, but sitting at the wrong table – which confused him for a moment. You were sat at the Gryffindor table, right next to the Weasley twins who were making you laugh. A Ravenclaw boy whose name Draco didn’t know was behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders thus signaling that he was your date that night through possessive body language. You didn’t acknowledge his presence much, though.

Pansy, Draco’s date, made comments about your dress each time you stood up to dance. The long dark blue satin dress gently touched the ground with each step you took, the slit in its side slightly exposed your leg with each movement. There was a smile on your face the whole night.

Draco thought you looked so beautiful.

He thought you looked beautiful even when your glance danced towards Ron Weasley until the end of the ball.

Draco also remembered the night Pansy dragged you into Umbridge’s office a year later. She held your arms behind your back forcefully while you struggled to get out of her grasp. Your wand was in her possession and you looked angry. A great juxtaposition to how you looked on the night of the Yule Ball. He remembered thinking how much sense it made for you to be tangled in Harry Potter’s mess because that’s what Potter did. He had everyone on his side, all odds in his favor while Draco was being dealt bad cards at every turn.

You fought and tried to get away from Pansy. Your hair was messy, and your oversized blue sweater was getting untucked from your jeans with each forceful move you made. A frown painted your soft features, your eyes seemed darker than usual. Draco caught a glimpse of the scars on your wrist which he immediately knew came from Umbridge’s detention sessions, and he felt a flicker of rage rise into his stomach. The feeling directly contradicted the satisfaction he had been feeling at the sight of Potter getting his plans spoiled right in front of him.

“Parkinson, lay it off.” Draco found himself spitting when he realized the pressure on your wrist was painful. He spoke before he realized what he was doing, and so he found the confused gazes of Ginny and Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and you – all fixed on him. Pansy obeyed Draco with discomfort.

You looked at him quizzingly, not really understanding why he was suddenly…helping you? He met your gaze just for a second before a heavy glare returned in his eyes and he turned away, focusing entirely on Harry and Umbridge.

It was minutes later when he watched your figure getting smaller as you ran away from Umbridge’s office, escaping with your friends. Draco and his friends were left behind and unable to follow as they each struggled with curses thrown at them in the escape. You were all long gone by the time the group of Slytherins came to, and Draco remembered that he found himself wishing he had people running into the line of fire for him like Harry did – he wished you would’ve glanced back at him in your escape and then weeks later when he was told about the events of that night, he found himself hoping his father didn’t hurt you in the Ministry attack.

Those thoughts and memories didn’t stay with him for long that summer, though. Draco couldn’t say that you crossed his mind after he received the Mark.

Until that night.

It was late and he was in the Room of Requirement, still fiddling with the cabinet. It was the fourth consecutive night spent in there after finding the damn thing, and he wasn’t anywhere close to fixing it. Frustrated, he punched and kicked the wood so hard that his knuckles sent sharp waves of pain through his arm. It was because of the noise he was making, the kicks and grunts that he didn’t hear the Room’s doors open and close.

You had previously been in the Gryffindor common room, attending one of their parties. There weren’t lots of Ravenclaws there – hell, it was only you, Stiles, Padma, Anthony and Michael. And it was all going well. You were sat on a bean bag chair with Stiles in-between your legs, surrounded by your Gryffindor friends: Ron, Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ginny, with Dean and Seamus on their way to you all with butterbeers in hand. The atmosphere was fun and light – a welcomed escape from the reality surrounding you, but you all decided to enjoy the moment and pretend the world outside the common room didn’t exist for the night. So you sat close to the fire and you didn’t know if the hot flames were warming you up or if it was the fact that Ron was focusing an unusual amount of attention on you.

You’ve had a crush on the Weasley boy since third year, and no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop your heart from beating faster each time he smiled at you.

You were having a great time.

“And if I become an Animagus to help Scott, then what?” Stiles spoke. Harry shook his head. You puffed. “What? We’d be the new generation of the Marauders; someone has to keep the legacy alive.” He continued, determined.

“Lupin would kill you, mate.” Ron laughed.

“You know animagi don’t pick their animal though, right?” You questioned. Stiles looked up at you and beamed.

“I know. But it’s like, vibe related so I think I’m safe. I’d absolutely be a dog, or a wolf.”

You glanced worryingly at Harry, but the boy simply burst out laughing and denied jokingly. Everyone else hearing the conversation laughed as well.

“Stiles, if it’s vibe related then you’d be a weasel.” You spoke, prompting laughs from everyone. Ron high fived you for the joke and you smiled wider than you thought possible.

The good mood didn’t last long, though. Only moments later Lavender Brown joined the group and comfortably sat herself in Ron’s lap. You watched him give her a quick kiss and wrap his arms around her. “What are we talking about?” She asked and it was as if your ears got covered. The sound faded, your smile dropped, your shoulders slumped. Ron would never like you back, you had to accept that. It was pathetic how you longed for the boy for so long.

So, you excused yourself and left the common room entirely to take a walk. You didn’t expect to end up outside the Room of Requirement, and you didn’t even feel like going inside. But the hall was dark and cold and you began hearing footsteps and the flickering light of Filch’s lantern slowly began illuminating the stone walls and with a haste movement, you went into the Room before Filch could walk around the corner and catch you.

You found yourself in a Room much different from the training grounds you had known while being part of the D.A. Tall piles of clutter seemed to reach the ceiling and despite the room being extremely vast, it felt tiny and crowded because of all the objects tossed and piled everywhere in sight. You walked on a path formed through columns made out of old boxes and books, all piled amongst stacked chairs, empty owl cages and rusty potions equipment. Loud bangs followed by grunts caused you to stop in your tracks and draw out your wand. The room in itself seemed unpredictable, and so you already had about six defensive spells ready to go in your mind and on the tip of your tongue.

You caught a glimpse of platinum blond hair before anything else. It looked messy – very different from the way Draco usually wore it: slick and perfect. Now, it gave you the feeling that he’d been vigorously running his fingers through it, causing it to become tousled. He was only in a white shirt – the robe, vest and tie laid disregarded on a near-by couch.

Lowering your wand, you gently knocked on a table to get his attention.

He turned around in a panic. His hand reached for his wand but stopped midair when he saw you. “What are you doing here?” Draco spat with no hesitation. His heart skipped a beat again, like it did on the night of the Yule Ball.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You responded, glancing at the cabinet in front of him. At the time, you didn’t think anything of it.

“None of your business.”

“I don’t care anyway.” You glared. “This room appeared to me like it did for you and since I think I need it, I’m not leaving.” With your arms crossed, you leaned against a random tossed out piece of furniture.

“Isn’t there a Gryffindor party you should be at?” Draco’s gaze remained cold and the scowl on his face didn’t falter.

“You know about that?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, I know everything that goes on around here.” He broke eye contact by focusing on folding up his sleeves. When his hand began working on his left forearm, he stopped abruptly, remembering. He went stiff at the realization, which you noticed. Before you could speak however, he looked back at you with a smirk, “Was Lavender Brown there so you ran away?” It was as if he didn’t look struck by lightning just two seconds before.

However, his words made you forget his strange behavior. “The hell? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, come on, (Y/L/N). Everyone knows you have the hots for Weasley. Least you can do is own up to it.” He teased with a mixture of annoyance and amusement present on his face.

“Piss off, Malfoy.” Walking up to the old couch Draco’s uniform laid on top of, you sat down and watched as the dust flew out of its cushion. Draco groaned. “I’m just gonna nap here until I’m sure Filch left and isn’t near the Ravenclaw tower.”

Draco mumbled some things you didn’t bother to understand, and then silence befell both of you. He didn’t really bother to fight you to leave even though, in retrospect, he should have had. Maybe if you didn’t stay with him that night, he wouldn’t be meeting you in the Room months later with tears burning his eyes. But, to be fair, he couldn’t have known that night. That night, he just rolled his eyes at you breaking the silence ten minutes later, when he thought you were asleep.

“What are you even doing there?”

“I told you, none of your business.” He spat.

“Is that the vanishing cabinet Peeves broke a few years ago?”

Draco turned around. It was his turn to be surprised by your knowledge. “How do you know about that?” He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over your figure as you sat cross-legged on the old couch he napped on countless times before. You wore casual clothes – which he always thought looked great on you, and your hair laid straight over your shoulders. The few candles he had lit around softly luminated your face with warm tones.

You smiled proudly at his question.

“Fred and George shoved Montague in it last year” you laughed “it was quite funny.”

Draco remembered the incident. He was, after all, the one who found Montague stuck in a bathroom after the encounter with the twins.

“You’re trying to fix it, aren’t you?” Draco watched you jump up from the couch and walk next to him to examine the cabinet. He suddenly felt on edge, exposed. The Ravenclaw in you was jumping to solve a problem, while the Slytherin in him was about to explode. “Have you tried a mending charm?”

“Of course, I tried a mending charm.” Draco answered with annoyance in his voice. You rolled your eyes. “It doesn’t work.”

“Well, then- “

“I don’t need nor want your help, (Y/L/N).” He glared down at you. “I can handle it myself.”

“Asshole.” You mumbled before taking a few steps back from Draco. He didn’t turn to you. Instead, he focused on his task even though his mind wasn’t on it anymore. He focused on your footsteps as you began to walk away without another word and before he could overthink, he spoke up softly. “But you can stay, if you want.”

You didn’t stop walking as you answered him. “I don’t.”

Draco then heard you utter “Lumos”, heard your footsteps getting quitter and quieter, then the heavy doors being pulled open. After they closed, he found himself surrounded by silence once again. Not dwelling on it, he pushed the thought of you away and resumed his work. Nothing was more important than his assignment.

Things slowly started to shift after that night.

The next day in Transfiguration as he was zoning out, a paper butterfly landed on his desk. He glanced around the room but saw nobody giving any sign of sending him the note. However, after he opened it and read its contents, his eyes immediately found you. On the paper was a list of incantations that would be useful in repairing things, and he knew you had sent it even though you looked focused on the textbook in front of you. It looked as if you were purposefully trying to ignore him, and Draco allowed the ghost of a smirk to form at the corners of his lips.

Two nights later, Draco walked into the Room of Requirement and you were already there. A few more candles than usual were lit as you sat on the (now clean looking) couch, reading a heavy, dense book. “Have they worked?” you asked without looking up from your book.

Draco sighed, loosening his tie. “No.”

And as time passed, you and Draco began spending more and more time together. Initially, you tried to help him fix the cabinet. It gave you a distraction from Ron and Lavender. But it was also obvious that fixing the old thing was important to him – he seemed desperate and for some reason, you felt like helping. And so, you found yourself sitting close to Draco on that old, tossed out couch with different heavy books resting in your lap every night, both searching for spells that could work. Each few day the space between you decreased until you reached a point where your knees touched and your shoulder pressed into his bicep. Sometimes you could even feel his minty breath on your face – just for a second. But the feeling began to linger even as you walked the stairs up to the Ravenclaw tower late at night.

You also found yourself thinking less and less about Ron.

Then, about a month after the Gryffindor party, the Katie Bell incident took place.

Harry began suspecting Draco of the attack and accused him of being a Death Eater. You didn’t go to the Room of Requirement for a few days after that because honestly, you were scared. You knew, deep in your heart that what Harry was saying made sense and because of that you started to believe that Draco’s cabinet wasn’t just some fun project. You lit on fire all the parchment you had written mending charms on, in a haste and with shaky hands.

You didn’t want to see him after that.

But you found yourself days later sneaking out of the tower late at night, quietly making your way to the seventh floor.

Draco got heavily scolded by Snape for the necklace attempt. The Professor found his action completely foolish and didn’t hesitate to let Draco know that. The boy arrived at the Room feeling beaten, defeated. On top of that, he was met by the empty couch and the broken cabinet and he snapped. In a fit of rage, he broke one of the cabinet’s doors and threw it at the couch. The noise he caused rang through the entire room, momentarily covering the silence. He couldn’t bear the sight of his failure any longer and the thought that you were now possibly scared of him after rumors of him being a Death Eater spread around the school, thanks to Potter, angered him even more.

“Training for the next Triwizard Tournament, Malfoy?”

Your voice made him turn around quickly, surprised look on his face.

A small smile danced at your lips, and you took out your wand. Pointing it at the broken door, you cast out “Repairo,” and the door lifted from the couch, gently levitating towards the cabinet and fixing itself. In the end, it looked as if nothing had happened. “At least this works, otherwise you would’ve had to pick up some muggle skills.” You teased.

Draco let out a small laugh, before his face fell again and he sat down on the dusty floor. His back rested against some other piece of forgotten furniture and he brought his knees up, hugging them to his chest. His head fell back, and he closed his eyes.

You quietly sat next to him with a huff.

“Why are you here?” Draco asked quietly.

After a moment of silence, you answered with honesty “I don’t know.” And you didn’t. You couldn’t understand why, despite the pit in your stomach that took shape as soon as Harry accused Draco of being a Death Eater, you were alone with him in a secret room, late at night.

Opening his eyes, Draco made a quick decision. He placed his left hand on your right knee, squeezing. Your eyes met – he looked calm; you were confused. “Do you trust me?” Draco’s voice was just a whisper. Alas, through the deafening silence of the Room, you heard him loud and clear.

“I don’t know.” You answered again. And, mirroring his impulsive move, you placed a hand over his. He felt cold at the touch and as you got used to the slightly stinging feeling, he found comfort in your warmth. “All I know is that I’m here, for some reason. I felt like seeing you.” You admitted, your voice tender and quiet.

Draco didn’t speak for a while. You thought you embarrassed yourself but didn’t dare to move.

“There are things about me that you really wouldn’t like if you knew.” The boy finally spoke. His eyes were glued to the cabinet that was a few feet from you both, but his mind was miles away. “I’m not a good man.” He admitted with no waver in his tone, no hesitation.

And maybe it was the daily, month-long meetings you’ve had with him. Or maybe it was the flicker of decency you saw in him when he got Pansy to release her painful grip on you the previous year. But your mind dug up small events and information buried deep in your memory that made you frown at his words. You remembered Dobby. Harry told you he was the Malfoy’s house elf who tried to keep him safe during second year, and it all seemed strange to you. You knew that house elves, if owned, could not act on their own volition no matter how strong their beliefs and inclinations were. In your mind it seemed unlikely that Dobby left the Malfoys without their knowledge and so, for the longest time you had a hunch it was Draco who sent Dobby to warn Harry. Especially since Lucius was the one who snuck Tom Riddle’s diary into Hogwarts. You were also quite sure it was Draco who helped Harry figure out the monster from the Chamber of Secrets was a Basilisk.

But overall, you knew Draco didn’t grow up in a good environment. He’d been heavily manipulated his entire life and it was in that moment, as you sat next to him on dirty floors, hand on top of his, that you decided whatever he was doing, he was doing either because of blackmail or manipulation.

“You can’t let the bad things from the past define you,” You whispered as your fingers slowly occupied the empty spaces between Draco’s own fingers. He was quick to grip your hand into his. “I think you are good. You’ve just been dealt shit cards.”

Draco didn’t show any emotion as he processed your words. But that night as he lay in his bed all he could think about were your words. Nobody had told him he was a good person before, and he’d never felt supported before in his life. And he felt a wave of emotions hit him all at once. He felt envy because Potter had had you all this time and because of your friendship with him, Draco didn’t get close to you sooner. He felt jealousy because he remembered you were in the Room in the first place because you were heartbroken over Ron – again, someone he didn’t like had all the things Draco felt he should’ve had instead. He felt comfort knowing you weren’t scared of him despite Potter filling your mind with (true) accusations. He felt hopeless because he was a Death Eater now and you were one of the good guys. He also felt entitled, selfish and determined because for the first time in a while, he found himself wanting something – someone, that he wanted for himself: you.

Over the next few months, you both unintentionally grew closer. Draco remembered every smile, every laugh shared between the two of you in the candlelight, hidden deep inside the Room of Requirement. Most days, he worked alone on the cabinet while you studied and pretended he wasn’t doing something potentially harmful. You both found yourselves finding comfort in the other’s mere presence.

You began to think less about Ron and more about Draco and it made you feel strangely guilty, especially when Ron would throw his arm around you like he used to in the Great Hall and you’d catch Draco’s eyes and excuse yourself to move back to the Ravenclaw table.

On certain nights you attempted to get Draco to do homework with you. But with each passing day, he became more and more anxious and afraid. And with each passing day, it hurt and worried you more and more. On a few occasions you did his Transfiguration homework for him just to keep him out of detention.

He owled you a Merry Christmas note during winter break but told you not to write him back. He knew you wished him happy holidays as well.

You gave him a Christmas present when you got back to Hogwarts – a ring, as you’d noticed he liked wearing them. His face lit up at the gesture and it was the first time he embraced you. The action was impulsive but it felt right. One of his arms wrapped around your lower back, the other cradled your head gently. His face buried in your neck and he held you so tight you didn’t dare move. He held you to make sure you were real and wouldn’t slip away from his grasp.

A little over a month later, Draco was feeling the pressure of his tasks heavier than ever. He felt sick each time he looked at the cabinet and you were noticing that. You were also noticing his complete disinterest in school and his reoccurring absences. He’d spend days in the Room, not even coming down to eat. You snuck him meals each time you could but sometimes you’d find them untouched on the floor.

“Alright, Draco. What’s going on?” You confronted him one night.

“Nothing.” He mumbled. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” you pleaded “Draco you’re not acting like yourself please, tell me what’s going on so I can help.” You never pleaded with a man before, never thought you would. Your ego felt too strong for this. And yet, there you were, standing behind a disheveled Draco Malfoy with an ache in your chest.

He ignored you.

You felt like throwing something at his head.

You watched as he opened the cabinet doors and took out a rotten apple. He held it in his hand for a second too long. It wasn’t unusual, you’ve watched him do this repeatedly over the past five months. You flinched when he threw the apple on the floor with vicious force. He then kicked the bottom of the cabined a bunch of times, yelling out in anger and frustration. His scream echoed through the Room. You pursed your lips.

“I can’t do this.” He finally spoke. “I can’t bloody do this and everyone’s going to die.” He started pacing around the small clearing amidst clutter. “My mum, my dad, me…you – we’re all going to die.” He kicked the plate of food you had brought him a few hours prior, spilling the contents over the floor.

You frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s gonna kill you and mum in front of me, make me watch,” He was frantic “probably gonna torture you first so I die remembering your screams. Then,” he pinched his nose, wiped his mouth “then he’ll kill me. I’ll be last and everyone’s gonna be taking the piss out of me, the fucking kid who couldn’t fix a fucking,” he kicked the cabinet again “magic fucking cabinet!” he kicked and kicked until you could feel the pain he felt in his leg yourself.

You walked up to him and attempted to pull him away from the large wooden broken object, but he pushed you away forcefully. You stumbled back in shock. “How dare – “ You couldn’t finish your sentence, however. He hastily turned to face you, pulling up the sleeve of his left arm aggressively, exposing the Dark Mark.

No words came out of your mouth after that.

You couldn’t seem to peel your eyes off of the mark, and Draco watched you with a pained heart. Part of him expected you to run, another to pull out your wand and attack. He didn’t know which one was coming, he didn’t know which one he preferred. However, he didn’t expect you to walk up to him with slow, steady steps.

His eyes locked with yours as you took his arm into your own. It was as if the Room emptied and the only things in it were the two of you. Holding his arm to your chest, you got as close to him as possible. As he looked down at you, his heavy breath fanned your face. “It’s okay, Draco.” You whispered. “I understand.”

And you did. You understood his choice, understood the position he was forced into. And your heart ached for him.

That’s the night Draco remembered best. The way your figure was illuminated by the soft glow of yellow candles, the soft fabric of your sweater rubbing on his skin. The kindness in your eyes spreading warmth through his veins, the way your lips moved when you spoke his name. Most times he thought about conjuring a Patronus, Draco believed the memory of that night was what he needed to focus on in order to succeed.

With his hand on the back of your head, he quickly lowered himself to reach your height and caught your lips in a kiss. He felt you smiling into it and he found himself mirroring you, until you pulled away to giggle into his shoulder. He couldn’t do anything besides kissing the top of your head.

Days later you were both laying on the couch you had transformed into a cozy spot. You were focused on his Mark, tracing your fingers along the lines of it, gently. Draco knew he was supposed to feel pride in having the Mark – that’s what his family had told him, but he felt something close to shame each time he looked at it.

You rested your hand on top of it, covering it. “I’m sorry. But we’ll figure it out.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

A week later he was forced into the meeting with his mom and Snape at the Shrieking Shack. The following night he walked towards the Room of Requirement late, with heavy steps. It felt as if each movement he made on the way happened in slow-motion.

You were reading comfortably when he finally reached you. A smile formed on your lips upon seeing him, but it faded when you took in his appearance, his sour face, hardened figure, stone gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Draco didn’t speak, only pointed his wand towards you. You froze. “Draco?” His hand shook, his face wavered. You were confused.

“I have to do this, (Y/N). He’ll kill you otherwise.” Draco’s voice cracked.

“No, he won’t. You’re a skilled Occlumentist, right? He can’t get into your mind.” You immediately caught on.

He shook his head. “He’ll know, he’ll know. Snape knows, mum knows,” he sounded so scared that you attempted to get up to comfort him, but he threated so you sat back down “he’ll know.”

Tears formed and blurred your vision as your heart picked up speed.

“You know, I didn’t wanna think about you, I wanted to stay focused. I came here to do a task, that’s it. I came to be great, to do great things for the Dark Lord.” Draco began, “But then I saw you. I’ve wanted you since fourth year and then here you were, being good to me and…you woke up a weakness inside me. And I got selfish, I put my mission aside to get something for myself.”

Tears now ran down your face, and Draco mirrored you. You shook your head, silently pleading for him to reconsider.

“But I have a mission, (Y/N) and it’s so important. I can’t be distracted. And I can’t have you being associated with me – it’ll get you killed and I can’t – I can’t have it.”

The candles flickered and for a split second your mind went to a Divination class, where Trelawney explained candle magic. Their dancing light showed instability, chaotic energy while its tall flame indicated success brought about with complications. The air felt cold as you stared at Draco who hadn’t fully stepped into the candlelight. An abyss of darkness stood tall behind him, the sights of it deepening the pit in your stomach. Despite his shaky hands, dark circles underneath his saddened eyes and hollow cheeks, Draco looked put-together. His hair wasn’t messy like it was the first night you found him in the Room. It was back to its slick, flawless style. He wore his all-black suit, and his tie wasn’t loosened.

“I also can’t have you walk out of here knowing everything about me.” His voice hardened and for the first time while being with him, you felt fear.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Your voice was small. You sat up, your eyes beginning to look for a way out.

“I can’t risk it, you’re friends with Potter. You’re one of the good guys.”

“I won’t put you in danger, Draco.”

He grimaced at your words as if they’ve hit him with the force of a Cruciatus Curse. He tried not to let any more tears fall. You took his reaction as an opportunity to get closer to him. Maybe if you could take away his wand, touch him. Maybe then you could change his mind.

“I won’t endanger you either,” He whispered. “That’s why I have to do this.” At that, he lowered his wand and took two long strides towards you. Another one of his unpredictable actions that left you frozen in your spot. In a swift motion, he cupped your face between his calloused palms. “You know this is the right choice.”

“No,” you whispered and shook your head “no, it’s not. You can teach me Occlumency, I can help you,” your fearful eyes bore into his saddened ones, his heart ached at your words, at the fear he was capable of instilling in you. “We’re a good team, remember? I can help.” You kept pleading as your own hands rested on top of his. You felt the ring you’d given him still on his finger.

He simply shook his head with a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his face. “I’ve already corrupted you enough.” Draco admitted and you were taken aback; rendered speechless. “You’ve been covering for me with your friends, lying to Professors, basically doing my homework while I’m working on bringing the school down.”

Your heart dropped; hands started shaking. Draco felt it. He felt the weight of his words starting to crush you. Down in your mind you knew he was doing something bad with the cabinet, but you didn’t think it was so drastic.

Draco continued. Hurt her to save her, his mom’s words rang through his mind. “I’m using the Vanishing Cabinet to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts,” his words made you remember the Death Eaters attack at the Quidditch World Cup, where you were almost trampled. You remembered the attack on London that sent one of your family members to the Hospital. You remembered how ruthless the Death Eaters were at the Ministry, when they were throwing deadly curses at a bunch of teenagers.

And there it was.

The look of betrayal, hurt and fear on your face that Draco never wanted to see. He tried to remember the night you saw his Mark, the night you accepted and comforted him. That’s what he wanted to remember, not this. “After I get them here, I’m going to kill Dumbledore.” He continued.

Chills erupted on your body and you recoiled from his touch.

“I knew you were planning something bad, but this, Draco?” You couldn’t speak louder than a whisper as you took small steps away from him. He knew this was coming; the disgust, the unacceptance. Was your speech about understanding him all bullshit? “You don’t have to- “

“Yes, I do. It’s my mission.”

“No, listen to me. You’re not this person, you’re not a Death Eater. I know you, Draco. You’re still a good person put in a terrible situation but it’s not all lost, we can-“ Despite your fear, you still found yourself comforting him, pleading with him. Your mind lead an inner battle between understanding the boy’s motives and wanting to let Harry know of everything that was happening.

You couldn’t let Dumbledore die, couldn’t let Death Eaters attack Hogwarts.

“I cursed Katie Bell. Almost killed her.” Draco cut you off.

“I know.” You deadpanned. He parted his lips and frowned in confusion. “I saw the necklace in your bag a week before it all happened. Then I saw it on McGonagall’s desk. It wasn’t hard to piece together the puzzle.” You explained.

Despite the warmth spreading through his heart at the thought of you not abandoning him even after knowing that all those months ago, at the thought that he’d finally found someone to be on his side for once in his life, someone who understood and maybe even actually loved him – despite it all, Draco’s eyes had never showed less emotion.

You wanted to cry but didn’t. Your ego won.

“You know I have to do this, (Y/N).” His voice didn’t waver anymore. The more reasons you gave him to love you, the more his decision solidified in his mind. “And you know I’m doing the right thing,” he wanted to hold you so bad, but he didn’t move; instead, you both stood feet away from each other. “Knowing all this puts you in danger. Coming here every night puts you in danger hell, even looking at me in the Great Hall puts you in danger. I can’t see you brought into the manor tied up, imprisoned and killed as a punishment for me. And you know I’m right. I’m not just some irrelevant follower, I’ve sat at a damn table with The Dark Lord countless times this summer. He’s been in my home; he knows me personally.”

You couldn’t look at him the more he spoke. So, your gaze was stuck on a candle, but your eyes remained unfocused.

“You’re smart.” Draco kept speaking, his tone now loud and confident. “This is the part where you tell me that even though you wanna change my mind, you know I’m doing the right thing,” he even joked. You wanted to cry but couldn’t speak. He was right. “Tell me you’re proud of me because I’m putting someone else’s wellbeing above my own for once” his voice became muffled, as if he spoke from underwater. It was silent for a moment as Draco watched you process his words, “You’ll be on the right side of history after this. You’ll go back to Weasley who’s a better choice for you than I could ever be – even though it kills me to say that.”

All you could do was shake your head in disbelief.

By the time you looked back up at him, he had a few tears running down his face and his wand pointed at you. And so you cried.

“We were a good team, weren’t we?” Draco spoke with one last saddened smile.

“Draco, please. I love –“ you began, but Draco couldn’t bear hear it.

You watched Draco wipe his tears with a swift motion, before a white light formed at the tip of his wand. His voice came out strong, unwavering, and determined. His hand stopped shaking.

“Obliviate,” Draco uttered before you could react.

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagines #harry potter #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #ron weasley #ron weasley imagine #hhtsh

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ghirahimbo · 3 years

Note

"2. Suddenly pulling them in for a dance." - Ghiralink, perhaps? (Sorry incase that's not really your thing anymore! Feel free to pick another ship <3)

Yeah… yeah, that’s still my thing T-T lol, thanks for the prompt! This one was fun 😊

Post-canon, vague master/sword AU, ghiralink-ish

—

The spirit maiden danced with a grace befitting her divine origins, little though Ghirahim liked to admit it. Moving so lightly through the lively steps that her feet might have been floating, he could almost believe that she still bore Hylia's feathered wings on her back, tucked somewhere outside of physical sight. Link danced like a log in comparison—though on second appraisal, Ghirahim had to give him more credit than that. The boy wasn't stomping on Zelda’s toes, after all, unlike Fledge dancing nearby with poor Karane. Link's style consisted of accuracy without artistry, though with enough enthusiasm to almost make up for it. How odd that all his light-footedness seemed reserved for the more violent dance of swords, where he moved nimbly enough to keep even Ghirahim on his toes… a nod to his true calling, perhaps?

Privately savoring the notion, Ghirahim lounged against the wall of a newly erected building, only half noticing the wary looks he received as he watched the festivities unfold. These Skyloftians-turned-surface dwellers still feared him, despite the months he had served already as their hero's sword—a primal fear, perhaps, unless that fool Groose had secretly run off at the mouth. Link and Zelda had agreed from the start that certain aspects of Ghirahim’s past were best kept hidden, his previous master and role in Zelda’s disappearance highest among them. He had certainly not done anything overtly threatening to the residents of this tiny, budding village—and yet, they feared him.

The whole situation fell well beneath his notice, though he’d caught Link frowning over it more than once. Link was frowning at him now, Ghirahim realized, directing it over Zelda’s shoulder as they turned in sync, and he met it with a scornful expression of his own. What had Link expected him to do here tonight? Mingle?

The music finally paused as the lively song wound to its end, prompting the dancing couples to bow and switch partners (in Karane’s case with remarkable alacrity). Link leaned in towards Zelda, whispering something in her ear before vanishing into the milling throng, and Ghirahim half raised an eyebrow. Likely he'd just gone for more food, though Link might have finally tired of this tedious celebration. Compared to the more demonic gatherings Ghirahim knew, this less raucous human affair contained a disappointing (if expected) lack of bloodshed—though of course, those had often erupted haphazardly in the throes of battles won. Not like this one, which commemorated nothing more than the laboriously slow growth of food and its eventual harvest.

Another song started up, slower than the last but no less cheerful. Fledge had moved on to his next victim, some girl in a bandana and horrifically flared pants whose name Ghirahim had never bothered to learn. Zelda had produced a harp, wandering to join the musicians with plucked out harmonies that flowed from her fingers with ease, and Link…

Ghirahim frowned when Link’s bobbing green hat still had not emerged among the dancers. The food tables remained conspicuously absent of green, as well. If Link thought he could escape on his own while leaving Ghirahim here waiting—

A hand grabbed his arm, pulling him from his perch by the wall, and if he hadn’t had that hand memorized from the hundreds of times it had gripped his hilt, Ghirahim might have expressed his surprise in regrettably drastic fashion. Instead he let it pull him through the crowd until they reached their apparent destination, and it slid down his arm to grasp his own blackened hand, while another reached up to rest lightly on his shoulder.

Ghirahim blinked. Link smiled blandly up at him.

"Care to dance?" he asked, a bit too late for etiquette's sake considering that the dance had already started. Link's cheeks shone pink from the exertion of tromping around with Zelda, and his messy hair, mercifully absent the hat that always covered it, felt deceitful in how easily it had disguised his presence. Sweat clung to the base of those dark blonde locks—the reason for the hat's removal?

Ghirahim's legs moved automatically through the simple steps as he considered his young master, who made a brave attempt at leading with that unfortunate portion of his usual grace.

"Presumptive of you," he murmured, just loud enough to be heard over the din of laughter and music. "Any particular motive for such impertinence?"

Link had the nerve to look confused.

"You like to dance," he said, as if that was answer enough. Perhaps it was. Link wore his cheerful naiveté like a cloak sometimes, and even Ghirahim couldn't always sort out how much of it was real, and how much artifice. "Someone had to ask you?"

The hint of a question?

A number of potential reactions ran through Ghirahim's mind, considered and discarded in quick succession. He could extract himself easily enough, leaving Link clutching nothing but vanishing diamonds. He could also stand stubbornly still, refuse to dance, and let Link discover just how easily he could drag around a sword that didn't want to move. He could reject Link quietly—dramatically—at knifepoint, even—but…

A quick glance around revealed their audience. Though most had the sense not to stare openly, nearly every couple surrounding them shared the same nervous, almost scandalized smile, as if they feared the consequence of making their amusement too obvious. The spirit maiden in particular watched him closely, keeping a pointed eye on him over her harp though her lips shared the same bland smile as Link.

There would be no consequence, of course—Ghirahim wouldn't risk this precarious arrangement with Link simply to save face in front of some humans—yet neither could he let anyone think him scared off by something as innocuous as an invitation to dance. The steps themselves were straightforward enough, easily gleaned through his brief time spent observing… and as Link had pointed out, he did enjoy it.

His lips curved into a grin.

"I accept your request," Ghirahim said, and the moment Link started to relax, added, "but I will not be led."

Link's eyes barely had the chance to widen before Ghirahim spun him around, reversing the position of their hands.

Backpedaling to match Ghirahim's smooth advance, Link's startled face swiveled between watching Ghirahim and his own two feet in a desperate attempt to avoid being trampled. Lack of practice in this secondary role made him even less sure of his steps than before, though Ghirahim managed to steer them without incident through the greater pattern of dancing couples, humming in amusement as Link fought with surprise against an unexpected dip backwards.

"Come now, Link, have I ever allowed you to wield me with so little poise?" he hissed, the tip of his tongue whipping out mockingly as he raised Link back up. "If you favor only my sword with your attempts at finesse, I will begin to be jealous of myself."

Face red now from more than mere exertion, Link opened his mouth as if to protest—and closed it again, his lips forming a thin line of determination. An abrupt change swept over him, as drastic as if a switch had been pressed, and his stance shifted along with his center of gravity. Back straight with just a hint of fluidity, eyes blazing with the same defiance that had caught Ghirahim’s interest from the very start, Link danced, the superior reflexes he showed in battle at last made manifest.

Ghirahim's own eyes glowed. So Link had finally remembered that he held a sword.

"You've been holding out on me," he whispered, uncertain if Link could hear him or not. Experimentally, he directed Link with a light hint of pressure through a gliding spin, and found him as responsive an opponent as ever. "I should punish you for that."

Except that Link had held out on the spirit maiden first, and only for Ghirahim revealed his true potential. There was a pattern to that, he decided, glancing once more at Zelda and relishing in her look of surprise. Her chosen hero could never have defeated Demise without trying himself again and again on Ghirahim's sword first, and he hoped at times that his necessity haunted her.

The music picked up in pace and volume, the steps coming quick and intense. Link said nothing—he never did in the midst of battle, as silent as stone and just as unyielding—but perspiration broke out in beads along his face, trailing down the edge of his jaw. His hair swept and stuck in strange patterns across his forehead, disheveled but not wholly unappealing. Link might still have lacked a certain flair to his movements, too direct and to the point for Ghirahim's taste… but style could be taught. Idly, Ghirahim considered other dances he might teach this man if he was amenable, of perhaps less wholesome origins—dances whose quick, subtle movements pushed the bounds of even his own abilities, requiring strength in muscles Link likely didn't know existed. What was a dance without challenge, after all… without something a little more physical?

For now they moved through this tamer dance of Hylia's people, both withdrawing and rejoining as the pattern of steps demanded. The outer world fell away as their attention narrowed in on small details—the clash of eyes and brush of skin—blue on black and flushed tan on cool, steely gray—

And the music ended in a moment of silence that rang out unexpectedly. Laughing chatter burst to life, as abrupt as it was unwelcome, and the spell between them broke. Panting, looking slightly dazed, Link gave Ghirahim a bow that he returned with almost his usual smoothness, convincing himself that he had not been nearly so affected.

"Satisfied?" he asked softly, with the hint of a smirk—and was taken aback by the positively sly look Link gave him in response.

“Well…”

Brushing his hands together and placing them on his hips, Link gave a show of looking around meaningfully, and only then did Ghirahim realize how the tenor of the voices surrounding them had changed. Those glances sent his way felt more curious now than wary, and the bubble of instinctive fear surrounding him had all but vanished—his presence made human in their eyes at last by his part in the harvest dance.

"It's a start," Link decided, wiping sweat from his brow and settling his pointed green hat at a jaunty angle on his head. "I’m done dancing for the night, but you keep going if you want. You looked like you were having fun.”

With a wink, he turned to leave, and Ghirahim couldn't help but admire his exit. Link really was as conniving as any demon he’d ever met at times, though to completely different ends.

A nervous cough caught his attention, and he glanced down to see Fledge looking up at him anxiously. From the flurry of motion around them, it was time to switch partners for the next dance.

“U-um,” he managed to squeak out. His face, torn between pale white and deep red, had settled on both in splotches. “Everyone else is, so do you… I mean, are we supposed t-to…?”

Ghirahim snapped, leaving Fledge gaping at vanishing diamonds, and as he left caught the edges of Link's laughter. Conniving indeed, he thought, though at least in that as in so much else they were equally matched.

#writing prompts #ghiralink #ghirahim #my writing #I’ll probably post this to ao3 some time tonight

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

for obikin, maybe pretending to hate each other au? (sth where their ages are a little closer, perhaps, so obi-wan can be intensely petty and not feel the need to Set an Example)

45. (Pretending To) Hate Each Other (raised as Sith!Anakin, salty!Padawan Obi-Wan)(1.6k)

Obi-Wan turns away from the training stalles with a barely suppressed sneer. Anakin, as he is to be called, has defeated his opponents. His fellow Padawans. Darth Vader has become a Padawan and everyone is just fine with it.

Obi-Wan marches out into the halls, not knowing where he’s going, but knowing he must get away from the smirk on Anakin’s face as he had lowered his training saber to his opponent’s neck. Does no one but Obi-Wan remember how just months ago Vader’s saber had been pressed against his neck and it hadn’t been a training exercise? Does no one remember the atrocities Anakin had committed, the sentients Anakin had killed?

And yet Obi-Wan’s master seems infinitely fascinated by the boy. And yet Obi-Wan, it seems, cannot step out of his own room without finding this Anakin underfoot, either taking tea with his Master, or dolefully skulking around the doorway of Obi-Wan’s quarters. What draws the boy, he has no lasting idea.

They’re approximately the same age, he supposes, although Obi-Wan has a few years at least on Anakin--it’s clearer to see now that Anakin has stopped wearing his helmet and armor into battle, now that the lines of his face are not hardened by scowls and snarls. Really, he’s a boy. His medical chart puts him at eighteen, making him four years Obi-Wan’s junior.

And, he supposes, Qui-Gon was the one to find Anakin wounded on the battlefield, the one to insist they treat the Sith, heal him, and give him shelter. But Obi-Wan was the one who had found the slave chip embedded between his ribcage, the one who had alerted the Council to its presence, so it could be used to find the boy’s master, to capture him or kill him, to end the war.

But surely, whatever small part Obi-Wan had played in the war’s conclusion, the Force should have known better than to repay him by gifting him with the care and keeping of a Sith Lord, Chosen One or not.

Although Obi-Wan can admit, even if only to himself, that it’s worse when Vader latches onto anyone else in the Temple. His master is too starry-eyed by his ideas of Vader’s midichlorians, his destiny as the Chosen One, to see the boy in front of him now.

And anyone younger than Vader is too easily swayed by his looks, his charm, his disgustingly transparent eagerness to know about the Temple, about the Jedi way of life.

Obi-Wan knows this. He’s fought a Sith at 20, fended it off after it dealt a nearly fatal blow to his Master. They cannot be reasoned with. Vader cannot be reasoned with.

Anakin exists only as a figment of their imaginations, their desire to have the Chosen One fly under the Jedi colors. He is not real, not anymore.

Gradually, Obi-Wan finds himself making his way up the stairs of the Jedi Temple. Of all the spots to hide--to sulk, as his Master would say--the rooftop is the one least likely to be checked. It is one of Obi-Wan’s favorite areas in the entire building.

But he had not thought to check for stragglers before arriving at his destination, had thought the thunderstorms of his own Force presence would keep others at bay. He hadn’t yet figured Vader into his calculations, hadn’t remembered the propensity Vader had for showing up right when Obi-Wan least wanted him to.

“You left,” Vader--Anakin--whoever accuses, as Obi-Wan sits down on the rooftop. The wind howls around them. Obi-Wan has the distinct thought that they’ve lived through this before, that last time Vader had cornered him on a rooftop, he had threatened to take a piece of his body home to his Master. Now, Vader is standing in his home.

Obi-Wan takes a very deep breath and banishes those sorts of thoughts. Anakin, he reminds himself. Anakin.

And just as importantly, the chip. There had been a chip. Not controlling Va--Anakin’s thoughts, but certainly controlling his actions. What he would do to survive is no different from what Obi-Wan had done to survive; they had just been on opposite sides of the war.

Is Obi-Wan weak for not being able to move past that? For not being able to greet the boy--the man--Anakin with open arms into the folds of his family?

“I did,” Obi-Wan replies, keeping his eyes on what he can see of the city skyline.

Anakin steps closer. “Why?”

He turns to face him, takes in his sweaty appearance and messy tunics. He must have been looking for Obi-Wan’s reaction. He must have seen the exact moment Obi-Wan had turned, must have scrambled to cloth himself as he followed after.

“Why does it matter?” He asks instead of answering, always instead of answering.

“Because I wanted you to watch,” Vader says.

“I’ve seen you kill Padawans before,” Obi-Wan turns away and stands up until he can lean against the high protective walls of the roof. “I wasn’t impressed.”

Vader feels frustrated in the Force. No. Anakin.

Anakin. “It was a training exercise.”

“Now,” Obi-Wan points out. “Or do you mean then?”

“Would you hate me if I said both?” “I hate you now, Vader.” The other boy’s Force signature withdraws, flinching away from Obi-Wan’s ire. He hears him sit down. He’d rather throw him off the roof.

But: “Don’t call me that,” the boy pleads quietly. “I know I can’t--that I don’t--” he cuts himself off and grows quiet.

Obi-Wan would say something to break the silence, but he doesn’t want to engage the boy if he doesn’t have to. If he closes his eyes, he can feel and see the Force raging around them, violently buffering them as it demands some sort of denouement.

The boy inhales and stands again, stepping forward hesitantly until he’s a scant foot away from Obi-Wan. “My mom always told me she thought for ages about my name. That it had come to her in a dream after I was already a month old, that it was bad luck to have waited for so long to name me because infants on Tatooine can die as quickly as their mothers.

“And then I...I couldn’t use it or hear it or speak it for so long that I think I almost forgot it, almost lost it to Sidious and...and Vader. So even if you hate me, and I know you should hate me, I know I’ve never done anything to you that cancels out the bad I’ve done to you, but. Please don’t call me that. I think it would have made her sad."

Obi-Wan works his jaw as he stares off into the city. He doesn’t think V--Anakin has ever said so many words to him. If he gives in now, he’d be just as bad as the other padawans who had welcomed Anakin in amongst them because of his big eyes and soft lips and earnest enthusiasm.

Anakin seems to take his silence as permission to continue, which it isn’t. “And I know I’m not. That I can’t be--won’t ever be a Padawan, or a Jedi Knight, that. That I’ll never wear a braid or anything. I’m not--I don’t want another Master. I never want another Master.”

Obi-Wan turns his head just enough to look at Anakin. He’s spent an awfully long amount of time hanging around Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s quarters if he doesn’t want a Master. But...what he’s saying makes sense, and, more importantly than that, soothes the furious emotions in Obi-Wan’s chest enough that he can speak. “Then I can’t understand why.” Why you’re here, why you won’t leave me alone, why you chose to follow me if you’re not trying to dispose of me and take my Master for yours.

Anakin sighs, leaning his head on his hands as he looks out at the city. Obi-Wan finds himself annoyed with that as well, even though he’d just been doing the same thing. Now he can’t tear his eyes away from Anakin’s profile.

“You’re warm in the Force,” Anakin says eventually. “I think maybe I spent too long in space, because I’m always cold. Except when I’m around you. You burn. You always have. I used to think that maybe--it was hatred or disgust at me, when I met you in battle, and you were an inferno. But you burn when you’re on creche duty too. A different kind of fire, but still so warm. It’s just your soul. It’s just who you are.”

Obi-Wan blinks open-mouthed at him. He’s never considered the thought that Vader--Anakin--had been trailing after him for anything other than easy access to his Master. Now he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do or say.

There’s a part of him that still doesn’t understand what Anakin wants to get out of his tenancy at the Temple, a part that whispers that the Sith can’t be trusted, no matter how blue they can make their eyes look. But the Jedi part of Obi-Wan is bigger.

The Jedi part of Obi-Wan tells him to extend his hand just enough to brush against Anakin’s exposed wrist. It’s a point of vulnerability the boy doesn’t shy away from.

“Would you…” he asks slowly, forcing the words out of his tight throat. “Like to meditate with me?”

Anakin looks astonished, then hopeful, then disappointed, then dejected. “I’m no good at meditating,” he says, scuffing the point of his shoe on the ground. “It wasn’t a huge part of my...former Master’s curriculum, and the Force is just so loud in my head that it’s hard to do anything but react.”

He looks up at Obi-Wan through his eyelashes, biting his lip as if he’s afraid that he’ll be turned away for this.

Instead, Obi-Wan turns fully to face him and latches onto his flesh hand. “There are some things, I’ve found,” he murmurs, leading them away from the edge of the roof before pulling Anakin down to sit cross-legged in front of him, “that are much easier done with someone else. Done together.”

#that last line shows up in anakin's wedding vows #like eight years later #and obi-wan thinks anakins making fun of him #but really that was just the moment sith!anakin decided obi-wan would singularly possess his heart and soul for the rest of his life #of course he was gonna quote it in the wedding vows #OBi-WAN #what did you expect?? him to quote the line about killing padawans??#asks #obikin #my fics #omg im so happy i told myself when i finished writing and posting this i would get to eat two gyoza and now its gyoza time #its also 12:33 am #but most importantly its gyoza time #prompt fill

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mochegato · 3 years

Text

Jasonette Protection Program

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Marinette pulled her coat closer around her as she made her way from the bus stop to her apartment. She had made the brilliant decision when she moved here not to get a car because… Gotham. The likelihood that it would get damaged or destroyed in some kind of attack was ridiculously high. The likelihood the bus would get blown up or taken over, while definitely still present, was significantly lower.

But today she was regretting that decision. It meant she couldn’t isolate herself like she wanted to. It meant she was exposed to anybody and everybody at the bus stop and on the bus and on the sidewalk and any one of them could have been the one to drug her. She eyed the people around her as she walked. Okay, maybe not the woman who looked like she was in her 90’s and could barely walk… and dropped her knitting out of her bag.

Marinette rushed over to her and paused right before reaching her. She twirled around and scanned the faces around her. She could feel somebody watching her. She could feel their eyes scrutinizing her every move. She studied the shadows and the windows, but couldn’t find anyone watching her. She frowned slightly and shook her head. She was getting paranoid. She was seeing and feeling things that weren’t there.

She sighed and turned back to the woman, crouching down to help her put her knitting back in her bag. The woman smiled in appreciation, which Marinette returned with a shaky one of her own. She walked the remaining few feet to her apartment building and took a cautious look up and down the dark street before turning into it. She made sure she heard the click of the door latching before continuing up the stairs, not that it would do anything. Logically she knew that, but her anxiety still demanded it.

She kept her eyes on the stairwell as she made her way up to her apartment on the top floor, eyes hyper vigilant for any movement, her ears hyper sensitive to any sounds from the stairs. She got to her floor and paused for a few moments waiting to see if any sounds or movement indicated someone behind her. She let out a relieved sigh when there was no noise and turned to her apartment before letting out a muffled screech.

Jason jumped, dropping his phone he had been scrolling on, in his rush to hold up his hands in a placating motion. “Just me. It’s okay. It’s just me.” He watched her for a few seconds. She was starting to breathe hard, her eyes were boring into him. “Although I just realized you may not remember me. So this was actually an incredibly stupid plan.” He took a few steps away from her door, his hands still held up to let her know he wasn’t a threat.

Marinette continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, forcing her breathing to slow. “You… you’re Tim’s brother, right? You… you were…” she squinted at him, “you were in my bedroom?”

Jason grimaced and looked down to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah… that doesn’t make me sound too good, does it?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

He perked up slightly and gave her a small, reassuring smile. “I wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing today. It can hit a day or a few days later sometimes. And I’m a security expert. I consult on it for people and companies. I wanted to offer to check your security for you so you’d feel safe, at least when you’re at home.” He turned to her door and knocked on the doorframe. “I can already tell that you need better locks. I could have broken in easily, but I didn’t think you would appreciate finding me in your apartment.”

She raised an eyebrow at him but let out a quiet chuckle and looked away after a few seconds. “You would be right.” She looked back up at him and tentatively walked over closer to her door. “But, I don’t think I can afford to hire you.”

Jason waved off her concern. “I wouldn’t let you. I’d charge Tim for it. He can afford it and he’s worried enough that I’m actually kind of surprised he hasn’t contacted me already, but I suppose that has something to do with him not wanting you to meet me in the first place.”

Marinette quirked her lips to the side and studied him. The longer she watched and talked to him the more memories came back and the clearer they became. She was slowly starting to get bits and pieces of the night before, not enough to create a coherent picture, just incredibly short scenes, a word here, a smile there. Regardless of what she could remember though, this was Tim’s brother and although Tim didn’t want them to meet, he trusted him, not that she would ever be allowed to say that out loud to either of them.

She finally nodded and pulled out her keys. “Well, I can at least offer you dinner while you’re here. If you’d like.” She gave him a small smile as she passed him into the apartment taking off her coat and dropping her bag on the small dining room table.

Jason raised his eyebrows in surprise. After the way she had reacted when she saw him, he honestly didn’t think she would talk to him let alone let him into her apartment. He was starting to understand how she could have gotten drugged so easily if she was that trusting. But then again, Tim had said they all were being careful. Her even more so than the others. So why was she so trusting now? “I would never turn down free food,” he said slowly.

He closed the door behind him with a quick glance at the inside part of the lock, confirming his original suspicions. Standard issue, not particularly secure. He could have picked it in all of three minutes when he was only eight. He didn’t have to lean down to study the doorknob to know it was in worse condition. One good kick and the door would be wide open. He sighed. If anyone wanted to get into her apartment, it wouldn’t take them very much effort.

He turned back to the apartment, letting his frown morph into a smile. Her apartment was cozy and lived in and very much her. There were touches of her everywhere along with some touches that he wouldn’t have expected. He shook his head at the condition of the apartment. It wasn’t terribly messy but it also wouldn’t count as anything close to clean. He could see why she and Tim got along so well. Neither could clean up after themselves to save their lives.

There were bits of fabric and half completed sewing projects scattered around along with random pages of scientific reports. He raised an eyebrow at that. Odd combination. His eyes caught on men’s shoes by the door. He scrunched his forehead in confusion. If she lived with someone, where were they? Where were they last night? Why hadn’t Tim mentioned him? “You live with someone? A boyfriend?”

Marinette looked up from the refrigerator. “No. Well, yes, but no. I live with my best friend,” she explained quickly, “but he’s visiting friends this week.”

Jason nodded. That was good at least. She wasn’t living alone. There was someone else with her usually. That makes it less likely someone could just break in and attack her. He moved over to the window and sighed again, more deeply this time. It was worse than the door. “No curtains. You should probably get some, preferably lined ones. This lock is ancient too. It wouldn’t take much to jimmy it. We’ll get you new locks for your windows and your door.”

Marinette looked at him wide eyed as she set a bunch of grapes and a jug of filtered water from the refrigerator on the counter. She hadn’t been expecting the locks to be that bad. She knew it wasn’t amazing, but then again, she hadn’t really been too concerned about being specifically targeted here. Nobody really knew who she was, or rather used to be. She was just an average citizen here.

She stared at the window for a few seconds, her head cocking to the side and her eyes unfocusing as her mind wandered through the possibilities of what could have happened and what still could. She was no longer safe, not even in her own home. But then again, she never really had been had she? She had just thought she was. She thought she was safer after they’d defeated Hawkmoth, but she’d just traded one danger for another.

Jason watched as her face morphed from one expression to another, her eyes distant. Her face clearly displaying each and every emotion she was going through, no matter how flitting. Jason could guess where her head went. When her eyes started shimmering, he opened his mouth to bring her out of it when her phone rang. She jerked back violently, knocking over the jug of water.

She cursed as she tried to stop the jug’s descent only to knock it further away, further spreading the water. She gave a defeated groan and grabbed a towel from a nearby drawer to start sopping up the water. Jason jumped to grab a few more towels to help. It took a few minutes, but they were finally able to clean up the water with a minimum of damage to papers left on the counter. Luckily, none of Marinette’s sketches were on the island anymore but Adrien was definitely going to have to reprint some of his papers for research.

Marinette gave Jason an appreciative smile and threw the papers in recycling and the towels in the sink. She let out a deep frustrated sigh as she leaned against the counter. After a few seconds, she ran her hands through her hair and laughed. Jason frowned at the sound. It was short and mirthless and sounded utterly wrong coming from her. He could see her starting to spin but didn’t know her well enough to know how to help. God, he really hadn’t thought this through.

Jason very slowly started reaching for her so she could see his hands coming. Shen she didn’t shy away, he set a hand on her arm to ground her. She looked up into his eyes, panicked eyes meeting concerned eyes. They both jumped when her phone started ringing again. They both chuckled quietly at their reactions.

“Sorry…” she started but was cut off by another ring. She shook her head at herself. She hadn’t even noticed the original call had dropped. She checked the caller id and smiled at the phone. “Hey Tim.” She paused to listen to him. “No, I’m fine. I just… I knocked something over and was cleaning it. Sorry for scaring you.”

She gave Jason an apologetic smile as she listened to Tim. “I’m doing okay, I guess. I think I’m just jumpy… and getting paranoid. I could have sworn someone was watching me walk home, but when I looked nobody was around or rather nobody was paying attention to me.” She missed the slight grimace Jason shot toward the floor. “No, thank you though. Actually, your brother is here already.” She smiled at Jason again and put Tim on speaker.

“…that so. That’s very thoughtful of him,” Tim quipped in a clipped tone.

“Yeah, he’s checking my locks,” Marinette continued, seemingly oblivious to the tension in his voice, or attributing it to his concern. “Apparently my door and window locks are pretty bad,” Marinette frowned at the thought.

“Uh huh. Well it’s just so great that he came over then,” Tim gritted out.

Marinette did a double take when Jason’s phone dinged repeatedly with an extended series of text notifications. She blinked at it a few times before looking questioningly at Jason. He rolled his eyes and turned his phone off. He met her eyes with a shrug and a wink as he sat at her island.

“Tell him I say hi and remind him he has plans with Bruce soon,” Tim continued tightly.

Jason huffed. “Tell him to tell B, I'm not going on patrol until Demon Spawn calms down. And tell him I’m sending him the bill for this.” He motioned vaguely around them.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Tim conceded easily before his voice turned harsh again, “And tell him…”

“You two do realize you can hear each other and you two both know you can hear each other and I know you can hear each other and I’m not an owl!” Marinette admonished them sharply.

The room was silent for a few seconds before Tim started chuckling. “Sorry, Hermione.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She nodded at the phone even though he couldn’t see her.

“Hey! That makes me Ron? What the fuck?” Jason objected raising up from his seat in offense.

“Oh come on, you’d look good with red hair,” Marinette teased him lightly.

“You better fucking not be Ron,” Tim growled. “You’re more like Draco anyway,” he continued flippantly.

“Fuck you, Pretender,” Jason growled.

“Yeah, this is making me feel better,” Marinette sighed, leaning against the counter.

There was a guilty pause as the men took in her words. “Sorry,” Jason finally spoke up after a while.

“What?” Marinette gave him a curious look until realization set in. “Oh! No, I was serious. You two remind me of my friends. It feels comforting, normal.”

Tim waited a second before speaking up cautiously. “So… you’re okay for tonight? You feel safe?”

Marinette smiled at the phone again. “Yeah, Tim. I’m okay. Thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course. Let me know if that changes. I’ll be over in three minutes flat,” he promised.

Marinette grinned mischievously. “Do I get a free pizza if you take longer?”

Tim huffed out a laugh. “Absolutely.”

“Sweet. I might test it just for that,” she teased him. “Night, Tim.”

“Night. And tell Jason to turn his phone back on before I do it for him.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Still not an owl,” she singsonged before she hung up. She looked over to Jason with a concerned smile. “Do you have to go? It sounded like you already had plans?”

Jason waved her off and took the battery out of his phone before leaning against the counter near her. “I have plenty of time. Like I said, if I show up now De… Damian is going to attack me.” Marinette’s eyes widened in concern but Jason waved her off again. “It’s fine. He isn’t as tough as he thinks he is. He wouldn’t be able to hurt me, but Bruce would yell at me for it and Dick would give me his disappointed in you lecture. It’s better for everyone if I stay away for a few days.”

He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tim just doesn’t want me stealing his friend away with my superior looks and charm.”

Marinette scowled lightly at him. “Tim is very handsome and charming,” she insisted defensively.

Jason shot her a devilish smile. “But not as much as me, right?”

Marinette scoffed at him and rolled her eyes. “You certainly seem to think so.” She rinsed some grapes and set them in a bowl between the two of them. “But he’s the only reason you’re here right now. If you weren’t Tim’s brother and we hadn’t met last night when you were fairly respectful of me in my… state…”

“Fairly!?” Jason squawked.

“I’d have called, well, not the cops, but Tim, to take care of you,” she continued over him. She grabbed a grape and chewed on it while she watched him appraisingly as she leaned back against the counter opposite him. “Do you make a habit of stealing his friends?”

Jason shrugged and grabbed a few grapes. “No, we generally move in different…” he searched for a nice way to phrase it, “circles.”

She hummed in response. “And yet here you are, willingly entering in a circle with one of his friends.” She eyed him pointedly. She quickly broke their eye contact to look down and cross her arms over her chest protectively. “Thank you for breaking into this particular circle to help me out. Last night spooked me more than I want to admit.”

“Did you want to talk about it? Or pretend like it never happened. I can help with either,” Jason offered.

Marinette stared at the grapes for a while without talking. Jason was certain she was about to start spiraling again when she spoke up quietly. “I was keeping an eye on my drinks. I only took my eyes off of them when I was around people I trusted and we weren’t exactly close to other people for someone to just slip something in.” She frowned and looked at nothing in particular. She poured herself a glass of water and held the rim of the glass against her lips without drinking it as she remembered the night before. “I don’t know which scares me more, that someone was that good to get it in with all of us there or…”

“That one of the people you trust might be responsible,” Jason finished for her after a few seconds of silence. When she looked up to meet her eyes, she looked so shaken and uncertain, he wanted to pull her into a tight, reassuring hug, but after the night before, he wasn’t sure a virtual stranger’s embrace would be the most reassuring. He settled for moving to lean against the counter next to her so their arms were almost touching, but she still had her personal space.

“Yeah,” she said wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her arms.

“You think you were the intended victim?” he asked curiously. He and Tim had already discussed the night and decided that she had to be, but he was curious what her thoughts were. “You don’t think it was just opportunistic. You think whoever was with targeting you.”

She shook her head and looked down, frowning at the floor. She gripped her arms tighter. “I don’t know. I was never alone and I only drank with my friends at our own table away from other people. I mean someone at the bar could have drugged it before it was brought over when the waitress brought drinks but…”

“How would they know who it would go to,” Jason finished again. “Seems unlikely they’d risk the drug like that if they didn’t know who it would go to. If they didn’t have a plan to get the person out.”

Marinette looked up at him anxiously and nodded. She studied him for a few more seconds before she shook herself out of her daze. She looked up at him with a fake smile. “So what are you feeling for dinner? I can make some pasta. I can do stir fry. I can whip up a casserole. What do you want?”

“I’ll be happy with whatever you feel like having tonight,” he assured her with a smile.

“I don’t… really… feel like eating,” she mumbled, looking away again. “This is more something for me to focus on instead of last night.”

Jason gave her a gentle smile and lowered himself to her level, trying to gain her attention. “Look, I know you don’t know me but why don’t we order take out and we can watch a movie, or if you want to be alone, I can leave.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” she answered quickly, instantly looking over to him with a desperate look in her eyes.

Jason nodded slowly and gave her a gentle smile. He rested his hands lightly on her arms to reassure her he was there and not going anywhere unless she wanted him to. “That’s understandable. I wouldn’t want to be either. Do you want me to call Tim over? I know you probably feel safer with him and when he can’t be here in three minutes, you get a pizza.”

She gave him a wan smile. “No, I trust you. And I’m not really feeling pizza right now.”

Jason smiled back. “I want to joke and say that’s a terrible decision, but now doesn’t seem like the best time.” She gave him a deadpan look that made his grin widen. “I’ll save that for later,” he finished with a wink. His expression quickly turned serious as he watched her. “You should eat though. What kind of food do you want to try? There’s a good Indian restaurant around the corner.”

She looked away. “I don’t want to order out. I don’t want food that I…”

Jason nodded and moved closer again. “Yeah, that’s reasonable. Let’s make something together, yeah? I saw some eggs and milk in your refrigerator and there’s bread on the counter. How do you feel about breakfast for dinner? French toast sound good? I think you call it Lost Bread? And how do you feel about Clueless?”

“The movie?” she asked confused.

“Yeah, adaptation of Jane Austen’s Emma.”

“Fan of Alicia Silverstone or Jane Austen?” she teased weakly.

“Both,” Jason answered with a wink.

Marinette snickered and nodded. “That all sounds amazing.” She moved away to start getting the pan and bowls out, watching him while he got the ingredients prepared. “Thank you, Jason. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“No problem. We’ll get things figured out so you can feel safe, or at least as safe as you can feel in Gotham,” he assured her, and himself. They were going to find who drugged her and make her feel safe again. Whoever it was messed with one of Tim’s friends, one of the few he really trusted, that means whoever it was messed with his family and nobody messed with their family.

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @aespades @demonicbusiness @read-fantasy-to-escape-reality @jayjayspixiepop

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #prompt - night #Jasonette Protection Program

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wraithsoutlaws · 2 years

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27 - desperate kisses pls 🥺

Dagger studies the body in front of him. It’s not his best work, admittedly. It’s been hard to keep his hands steady as he waits for the call, and it shows in the state of him—messy hatch marks and haphazard slashes. He died quickly. He’ll have to drive out to the highway to grab another or maybe find new purpose for the next Wraith who looks at him wrong. Anything to distract him for the next two days.

The camp screams on the other side of his canvas walls as equipment is packed into trailers for the haul east—all the endless chatter, the drone of static heavy music from bass boosted stereos. Gunshots ringing on the wind. It’s undeniably familiar, a chaos engraved within his veins and when he closes his eyes it’s close enough to Northside it’s like he’s standing on the street watching the sky bleed over Totentanz. But it’s been weeks since he set out with the Wraiths. Twenty-eight days of desert, a reprieve he’d normally welcome. He never thought he’d miss the city. He’s still not sure he does.

But some things…

The call breaks through his thoughts earlier than expected and something leaps inside his chest before he has a chance to stifle it. He’s still smiling when he answers, even wider when he hears the voice on the other end.

“Figures you’re up,” Dum Dum says over the line. There’s a sardonic twist to the words that fail to completely mask the concern in his question. “You sleep at all?”

He can see the sun flare through the crack between the edge of the tent and the ground. He doesn’t remember when it switched from night to day.

“Some,” he says. “Who gives a shit?”

“You get real bitchy when you haven’t slept.”

Dagger grins. “I’ll try to be nice when you get here.”

He’s met with a quiet that sounds too loud and he knows implicitly what’s about to come. The smile fades. His fingers tighten on a knife and he drives it violently into the body sitting in front of him. There is no reaction in the limp thing. Hardly any blood left to spill.

“Something came up,” Dum Dum says finally. Dagger tunes out the rest when he hears Royce’s name. Finds it hard to focus past the screaming in his head. Some job or another, a meeting. Something that he can’t miss. It didn’t matter. He doesn’t care. “Not gonna make it tomorrow—”

“Fine,” Dagger interjects. He knows he sounds cold, prefers it that way. “For the best, actually. Don’t have time to fuck around—too much shit to tie up before we head East.”

“Dag—”

“Maybe I’ll see you in another month if you can manage to wiggle free from that leash—”

“Would you shut the fuck up? You didn’t let me finish.” The sudden bite almost catches Dagger off guard. “I’m not gonna make it tomorrow so I came today. I’m outside, you fucking gonk.”

Dagger freezes, muscles suddenly tense as he forces himself to peak out from behind the tent. He scans over the camp with a sweeping glance before he sees the out of place Chevillon, a smear of black against the dunes, dull beneath a layer of fresh dust from a long trip. Dum Dum leans idly against the side of the car, eyes already locked on when Dagger finds him. He raises his middle finger as hello.

The smile creeps slowly back across Dagger’s face as that faithful cruelty crumbles away. He doesn’t fight it, lets something new settle over him instead as he hurries outside. The rest of the camp keeps spinning as he pushes his way through without regard for the others. Twenty-eight days and a hundred years, it feels no different when that feeling tugs at his insides and pulls him forward, each step a little more urgent than the last.

Dum Dum straightens when he’s near, grin so smarmy it’s almost like looking in a mirror. He opens his mouth but Dagger doesn’t let him speak before he shoves him back playfully hard. There could be bruises on his palms where they hit against chrome but the dull ache hums nicely up his arms. He missed this feeling.

“Fucking asshole,” he murmurs. He means it, but there’s nothing cold in his tone now.

There’s a laugh, and a flash of shark teeth and Dagger can’t wait any longer. He pulls him forward, kiss landing roughly on a steel laced mouth. Fingers knot in synthetic hair and hold him close as he lets his own edges melt away. He feels an equally tight grip on his neck and a splash of blood over his tongue. Its the best thing he's ever tasted.

Twenty-eight days blur into nothing between them. The next twenty-eight don’t matter. They don’t exist. Nothing else does except for this.

#oc: dagger #dum dum #x: perfect drug #my fic tag #this wasn't meant to be quite as long as it is. its not long long bt its longer then i meant to go oop v.v #but thank you!!! it took a bit but i did it :3

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friggsdc · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Kon-el/ Tim Drake/ GN Reader insert | NSFW* PWP

Warnings: poly, established relationships/roles, consensual noncon, light bondage, palming, edging, anal, fingering, deep throat/gagging

word count: 2400+

It wasn’t your fault that Tim’s Red Robin suit looked something akin to bondage, and it really wasn’t your fault when Kon suggested treating it like bondage when you voiced your thoughts. So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Tim when he was gagged and tied up on the couch of a safe house after coming back from patrol. Except it was a surprise as Tim wasn’t in either of your heads, and he was terrified he’d fucked up somewhere, some villain having followed him home to kill him.

No, no, it was just Kon and yourself, visiting from the other side of the planet with no forewarning and “capturing” him.

a/n: i used to hate his specific RR suit where his cowl looked like a gimp mask to me for the longest time? idk why lol, but now I just wanna see Tim a hot blubbering mess in it??? anyway, established poly relationship and established consensual noncon relationship (haha the three of you are minxes). this is my first upload what the heck

It wasn’t your fault that Tim’s Red Robin suit looked something akin to bondage, and it really wasn’t your fault when Kon suggested treating it like bondage-play upon hearing your voiced thoughts. So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Tim when he was gagged and tied up, sitting on the couch of a safe house when he was taking a short rest from patrol. Except it was a surprise as Tim wasn’t in either of your heads, and it scared hi to think he’d fucked up somewhere, some villain having followed him without his knowing.

No, no, it was just Kon and yourself, visiting from the other side of the planet with no forewarning and “capturing” him. His voice came out muffled from whatever you’d shoved in his mouth (it was sweet and warm and all too familiar) as he tugged on the zip ties holding his wrists behind him. He had just gotten back from a messy fight and wanted to clean up, to wash the sweat and dirt off him before heading back out. Instead, he was given a heart attack and a whole new sheen of sweat.

It seemed like you and Kon had different plans for him though, as the two of you nuzzled either side of his neck and jaw, up to where his ears would normally be if it weren’t for his cowl. His shudder was an instant reaction, swallowing thickly in sudden anticipation, his cock almost twitching even if he wasn’t thrilled that he was still gross from patrol.

He could feel the ministrations of your faces, he could feel your lips giving sloppy kisses, and he could feel the warmth of your breathing, though muted from the strength of his tactile fabric. He whimpered slightly at wanting to feel more, wanting skin to skin contact with the two of you, the cloth in his mouth now soaked from his own spit building up, a bit escaping to gloss his lips.

“Mmfh,” he jerked slightly as the two of you spread his legs, each straddling one, though making sure not to put too much pressure on them. Immediately, your hands were all over him in the places he didn’t care about and not in the places that mattered. Rubbing your hands on his sore legs, squeezing at his inner thighs right next to his now obvious restricting pants, with Kon and your fingers intertwining in the exploration. Eventually you trailed your fingers up and down his abdomen, getting so low only to stop above the twitching mound, then trail back up. This was not fair, and after not seeing you two for a while, it was even worse, painful.

You mewled in his ear in sync to his whimpering, riding on his leg and leaving a visible wet spot, stimulating yourself. Similarly, Kon let out slutty moans as he rubbed his cock against Tim’s other leg, a wet spot of his own forming. Then his mouth suddenly found the crook of Tim’s neck as he sucked on the fabric to muffle himself, his strength being of use. The two of you were getting off on his thighs, hot breaths fanning his face and putting him into a state of misery as his own breathing was like a battle.

He swore he was getting off on the sight alone, the feeling of you two against him only intensifying the throb between his legs. His body jolted again, head falling back, letting out a loud strangled groan as the two of you finally ran your hands over his bulge, Kon took the top, you the base. Kon rubbed circles on the head, loving the feel through Tim’s pants, loving the way his muscles shuddered and rippled. Tim’s balls, similarly massaged by one of your hands, a bit rough due to the fabric, but mostly sweet. Your eyes darkened at seeing his clothes showing obvious wet spots, especially his pants.

Your free hand went to Kon’s mouth and eagerly, he sucked on three digits, tongue gliding over them in front of Tim’s gagged face. He couldn’t handle it anymore, it was enough that Tim came from the small frictions, making a mess inside his pants. Neither your ministrations nor Kon’s ceased, continuing to expertly rub him in ways only you two knew would drive him crazy. It wasn’t an intense orgasm, Tim hadn’t been given proper stimulation for that on purpose. Kon and you wanted to drag this out (living so far from Tim meant visiting was infrequent, and the two of you wanted to make the most of it).

There was no time to let him recoup, there was no time to let him come down from his high. No, the two lovers in front of him made him ride out his high, not allowed to come down till they had their turn.

His breathing couldn’t find the time to catch up, huge gulps of air taken through his flared nostrils, chest heaving as he fell forward, leaning against you. He moaned at the sight of you two against him, the heat already reignited in the pit of his stomach. He really wanted to fuck you, or Kon, or both. He really really wanted to ram his cock into one of you, he didn’t care which, he wouldn’t be picky.

He wasn’t even bothered by the previous sweat and dirt anymore, his body hot and sticky and lost in the pleasure and feeling of you two. All he wanted right now was to be free, to touch and rub the two of you back, to hold and kiss Kon and yourself. As he watched a trail of spit string from Kon’s tongue, sticking out from between his lips, to your reluctant fingers, he began to grow impatient.

Tim was jealous as he watched your fingers trail down Kon’s backside, across taut, thick muscles, a line of saliva leaving a wet trail for the air to cool. “A-ah…” Kon shuddered excitedly as he leaned against Tim’s chest, pushing him back, his hand still giving light strokes to Tim’s cock, keeping it wanting.

A finger found it’s way into Kon’s ass, pumping lightly to help the spit make sliding easier. A second finger soon joined the first once there was enough lubricant (between Kon’s spit and Kon’s juices, it was easier to prep). Tim watched with dark, heated eyes as your fingers pumped in and out of Kon’s ass, now wiggling in time with each movement.

Tim wanted to help.

Kon was making even more sounds now, even sweeter than before as his own eyes glazed over with lust, staring at Tim. A third finger and Kon was gone, pumping into his ass, feeling around the soft warmth inside, and spreading him open with sloppy noises.

“K-kon…” you moaned in Tim’s ear, his heart skipping a beat with a heated need, “I think… I think this naughty pervert should be taught… ah…! W-what happens when you run around…” you gulped, moaning in Tim’s ear again, “in such a lewd outfit...” the heat pooled in his stomach, making him thrust his hips forwards. Kon was making little noises against Tim’s neck, “Hah… L-look at him… What a pervert… he’s all messed up in the head,” Tim’s cock was throbbing, the pants were too tight, the teasing was making his eyes tear up.

Kon and your palms stopped touching Tim’s cock to push his hips down when he thrusted, causing a strangled cry of pain. Finally, fucking finally the two of you pulled his pants down in unison, his cock springing free with an almost relieved whimper from Tim. The cool air was almost a comfort on his soaked and burning member before another shudder violently wracked his body, your tongues gliding across his shaft. He stared down at the two of you, breathing so heavily he could have hyperventilated if he tried harder.

Please--

He watched the two of you shift, Kon taking his place on Tim’s lap as you sat next to the two of them on the couch. Holding Tim’s cock, you helped guide Kon’s ass to sit down, watching Tim’s cock stretch him even further than your fingers. Kon’s face twisted as he took half of Tim, ass raising back up before falling back down with a sloppy sound.

His ass went back down, taking more of Tim and he raised again, this time he sat down all the way to the hilt and had to keep from bouncing, wanting to feel the heat. He sat there for a moment, breathing heavily and feeling his insides stretched so wide, filled so full with Tim’s cock inside him. “T-Tim…” Kon choked out, leaning his head down against Tim’s neck, slightly elevated now, as you went to grab Kon’s own cock, now sticking out and throbbing.

He whimpered and this time when Tim bucked his hips, neither of you two stopped him, and he about came deep into Kon’s ass from the one movement. The hand not holding Kon’s cock went to the base of Tim’s under Kon’s ass, grabbing somewhat tightly earning a loud, muted yelp from Tim. Kon and yourself had been patient the last few weeks, burning with a growing desire, so you wouldn’t let Tim finish so quickly.

Kon was so tight around Tim’s hard cock, a delicious warmth sucking him in so hungrily that he briefly wondered when the last time you stuck a dildo up Kon’s ass was. The thought was lost though, Kon was already sloppy, face already flushed and messed up just from sitting there. He leaned over to pull the panties from Tim’s mouth, built up saliva falling down the front of his suit and across Kon’s dick. Tim’s heart gave a strange bump, excited, wondering which of you two had been wearing them. “F-fuck it’s so tight…” the first thing out of Tim’s mouth, “K-Kon… move…” It was somewhere between an order and begging, and Kon began moving his ass up and down in compliance.

As your head leaned down to suck on Kon’s cock, now bouncing with his ass and Tim’s additional thrusting, Kon’s hand came to rest on your head. Your lips were able to catch Kon, having done this plenty of times as his hand began guiding you with his thrusts. Tim’s cock pumping into his ass and then your lips sucking on his own had Kon a mess for words. He couldn’t even think straight as he leaned against Tim, lips smashing against the other male’s.

Their breath was hot and mixed, the strong odors of sweat and grime mixing with their lust, but they couldn’t tell over the musky smell of sex and cum.

Tim couldn’t move his wrists, but he could move his hips and his lips, both taking in Kon as greedily as Kon wanted him. The buildup wasn’t too hard for either of them, thanks to the ample preparation and foreplay (which Kon and yourself loved, though it was torture for Tim since he was always the target of your and Kon’s affections). Kon sucked on Tim’s tongue, soft and slippery before their lips melted, tongues invading each other and in almost no time at all, Kon felt himself losing control in your mouth.

The sweet, salty taste of Kon’s precum filled your mouth and nose, an intoxicating scent that always had you going. You loved watching Kon go crazy from your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip with a sense of pride. Teeth barely ghosted the sides at times as the back of your throat sucked in tightly, squeezing with a gag as his cock thrust too far.

You could feel his cock hitting your uvula, rubbing the back of your throat as your mouth had relaxed, getting used to the size invading it. Eventually, with some difficulty, you had been able to take him a bit deeper, your moans making him shiver. Then you felt it, a slight ripple trembling from the base of his cock to the tip, his stomach shuddering. Suddenly there was a warm feeling filling the back of your throat, forced to swallow all of Kon as he came.

Tim kept riding him out, your eyes tearing up in pain as Kon’s cock stayed deep in your throat, still holding down, not wanting to let you move. It was hard to breathe, your own arousal flaring from the intensity that the lack of oxygen brought, and Kon filling up your mouth like a delicious lollipop. You were lightheaded. Kon’s hand eventually slipped off, somewhat drained, letting you up for air as his cum dripped down your chin, breathing greedily.

Kon was wobbly on top of Tim as he slowed his hips, letting the super sag against him to rest for a moment. The three of you did your best to take in gulps of air for different reasons, Kon’s eyes finding yours with a look of apology in them. You only smiled at him, coming up to give him a kiss, his “Superboy” stamina coming back almost immediately as the two of you began heating up. Neither of you could see it, not that you were paying attention, but Tim’s brow was furrowed, eyes narrowed behind his cowl at the two of you getting hot and bothered again.

There was only so much Tim could take, his mind now somewhat clearer as his hands busied themselves behind his back, “you two…” Kon and yourself only stopped making out to side-eye Tim, not at all worried by the warning in his voice. So instead, the two of you did what you did best, leaning over to include Tim in your battle of tongues.

It wasn’t sex, it wasn’t going to make his dick hurt, wasn’t going to make his mind go crazy, it was just passionate kissing. He couldn’t help but respond, this was one of his favorite parts, when you and Kon went from sex starved minxes to passionate lovers. The trust the three of you had in each other was overwhelming, your hearts all in sync with one another.

Kon and yourself were too absorbed in the flavor of Tim and each other, mixing your tastes up as much as you could before yelping, Tim’s hands on either side of both of your hips, squeezing. He had freed his hands, now pressing the two of you against him as much as he could, the short break helping him recover. “As much as I’d love to shower…” Tim looked between the two of you, all three of your heads resting together in a sweaty mess, “I think…” Tim’s head tilted slightly, covered eyes coming to rest on you, Kon’s own beautiful blues trailing after,

“A-ah…” you moaned, both of their lips now on your neck, pressing you up against the couch.

Tim would have to talk to you two about not giving him a heart attack later.

#kon-el x reader #conner kent x reader #tim drake x reader #kon-el x tim drake x reader

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