#before he started to live with professor venomous.

[satoruhour]

HIHII hope you are doing well!!!

I have a request but if you're not comfortable writing it's completely fine too!!

Anyways~ can you write something with University professor geto x top student reader??? They have a lot of sexual tension and geto continuously targets the reader in his lectures only for her to storm into his office after a test in which he didn't give her the marks she deserved just so he could piss her off and eventually leading them to blow off some steam together hehe-

HEJSJSH ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT REST OF THE DAY💗💗

-🍒

I GOT THAT DUMB D*CK !

a/n: hi cherry 2! saying 2 because i already have another cherry anon, thank u for waiting for this btw sorry this took so long omggg!!! i wanna make it similar to the short blurb i did here, but ill leave out reader being a camgirl! a lot of lore talk, just a warning

wc: 8k (sigh ....)

warnings: so much lore lol sorry, no beta we die like men, age gap (32 / 24), professor!geto, fem!reader, geto is also a cam worker, masturbation (both f and m), toy use during f! masturbation (vibrator), fantasising, pet names, praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, oral (m receiving, f receives briefly at the end), dumbification (ig?) face-fucking, deep-throating, spitting in mouth, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, cum eating, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

no one could really pinpoint the reason why professor geto had picked on you, called you out so much, and why you entertained the incessant questions. it was unbecoming of a prof., he knew, it was never smart to favour one person (negatively, in this case) in a room of bright students who could read between the lines. but he just feels himself so drawn to your furrowed eyebrows and words laced with venom, because at the end of the day, he can see that you aren’t all talk.

you challenge his views and you do it in a way that catches him off-guard. you propose insane arguments that you willingly would die at the grave just to find evidence for; or it could just be because he was staring too much at the way your mouth moved and your eyes expressed everything to pay attention to your words, finding that you were just too beautiful to be chasing a linguistics degree.

this was another thing: geto suguru could possibly have anyone he wanted. he was fine. shoulders pulled back in proper posture, hair either tied up fully or just halfway, and always, always wearing shirts with sleeves that reach his wrist. to that, everyone could see just how bulked the man was, top looking too tight all the time.

geto knew he was fine, too, because on top of (and before) being a professor, he found that he could get a good amount of money by just streaming — camera propped below his neck and obviously tight button-up shirt discarded to reveal his tattooed body, while he has his legs spread and the thirsty, horny comments flooding in on the platform. it’s been a norm by now, started from his uni days where he needed some extra money to support his fees and living necessities.

one year turned into two, two years turned into stagnancy during his third and fourth years (save for a few occasional streams), and up came a little funny graduation stream suggested by his best friend. geto had spent a good half ’n hour talking about his time in university and thanking his viewers, changing up the setting almost immediately by showing hard he was.

[uzum4kisl0ver]: YEAAAH we’re getting to the good stuff, thank u for feeding us so well these few years uzumaki-san!!

[minstash96]: Congrats on graduating Uzumaki-san!! I rmb joining during your third year and found out from everyone u were getting busier </3 but Im glad youre back again!!!

[g_bigdick_s]: fellas is it gay to support your best friend’s graduation jerking off stream

the flood of “yes”’s replying to gojo made the streamer laugh, thankful that his best friend had listened a little and at least changed gojobigdicksatoru to just his “G.S.” initials to avoid people finding his LinkedIn. from there, geto had gotten into the true nature of his stream easily, fishing out his cock to stroke and loving the sounds of tips coming in, the name of his alias Uzumaki continually commented. since then, it’s become a side hustle — finishing his masters, training to become a professor, it’s all natural to him, taking even further steps to make sure he isn’t found out.

exactly, he could have anyone he wanted — a fan from his streaming account, or one of satoru’s regular fwb’s but instead he finds himself drawn to someone else, you, the second year student in his bilingualism and multilingualism module that he has no trouble teaching despite his freshly employed status.

at the start of the week, the gods decided thought it would be funny to delay the campus bus that would take you to the english department for a consultation session with your professor. you couldn’t focus in lectures due to bad cramps, you were behind on your non-major related courses, the bad luck just seemed to seep into one day after another. you had woken up late, putting on a terrible outfit that no one really cared about, except your professor who just had a smirk on his face.

“if you notice, runes were created as they were spoken — spelt as they are said which almost look like ‘pictographs’,” prof. geto switches to the next slide with the runes and their meanings alongside a jumble of symbols that send the whole class into hysterics, “can anyone sound out the phonetics of these runes to me? hint: even though i said they look like pictographs, the first rune is definitely not an E.”

he was known for asking questions during lectures, pleased with anyone that would even try because he knew how quiet lecture theatres could get. he was exactly like that in university, too, letting satoru take all the attention due to the many unknown people in the same room. now, he found that asking the questions was a little entertaining, seeing the way students look back down at their laptops and avoid eye contact. but he doesn’t need to do anything and his body is already turnt towards you. he’s not even pointing physically, which he thinks he’s done a good job of restraining himself.

ᛊᛃᚨᚾᛖᛚ

“the words and names should be as they sound — so ‘s’ or ᛊ should translate into a ‘c’ since they didn’t have a C back then and it’s the closest sound to C. ᛃ can’t be ‘h’ because of the usage of H in hagl . . its pronunciation is different and plus, we’ll spell it how we say it, so maybe it’s ‘j’?” you mutter to yourself, an urge to answer the quickest, always. you aren’t sure where this streak came from, but you’ve been smart always, “sja . . it either can be chanel or channel since there’s a rule you can’t use the same rune twice in succession . .”

professor geto already knows you’d be the first to answer, raising your hand even without looking since you were still calculating the other four letters which you put together fairly quickly.

you take the safest route, “chanel, with one N.”

geto clicks his tongue and sucks in a breathe, “so close, miss (y/n), but it’s because i cheated a little on my part.” you can feel your blood boil and the grimaces of other students when he switches to the next slide and there’s a little grin on his face. it says — ‘there is no distinction between capital and small runes, nor can you use the same rune twice continually.’

“you are right, partially, but i did want to drive home the point,” which he’s sure you already know. “that words with two N’s or L’s or whatever, would only show up in the runic language as only one character.” your face morphs into something of annoyance and the grin on professor geto’s face only widens — that defiant, headstrong nature is something he loved, but the grin drops a little when he imagines something . . out of the classroom. his pants tighten.

you mirror him, clicking your tongue and reluctantly taking down the note in your documents before sinking into your chair — not even chō, you friend, could find the proper words to comfort you. you spend the rest of the lecture, sulking, unwillingly answering his incessant questions with a scowl on your face and a headache forming.

this never stops—

“miss (y/n)?” one-on-one meetings were the bane of your existence, but it was the only way to connect with your professors properly — here, geto calls you to talk about your latest essay where you were the last on the roster. by then, everyone has filed out with nobara waiting for you just outside the classroom.

“don’t have to call my name, i’m the only one here.” you mutter under your breath, and geto feels a little annoying today.

“what was that?”

“nothing—”

he hums, scooting his chair closer once you sit, and while you find the gesture a little weird, you’re overcome with just how good he smells and it only fuels your hatred more. it’s no fair that he’s so . .

“miss (y/n).” you sigh with an apology, frankly not ready to hear how he’d be attacking your essay. it was written on a rushed timeline, you didn’t cite your sources properly, you knew some criticism was warranted as much as you didn’t like to hear it from your professor’s mouth.

“. . you do know you can’t just rely on your brain, right?” geto speaks softly and you feel your heart flutter at his tone. he points to the places where you forget your in-text citations.

“but professor, information about syntax and phonetics just comes like second nature . .” you mumble, ignoring how he closes his eyes and hisses, “and all the sources on the internet say different things.”

“then just find a reliable one.”

you tsk, taking the paper from him and flipping to the next page, “well, i did one here.” the paper makes a sound when you press your finger into it, aware of how close you are. from here you can feel the heat radiating off his body, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together.

“too long ago, needs to be within five years.” geto’s lying through his teeth.

“no, it does not!” you pull back and look at him incredulously. ah, the feeling’s gone, “not in language related papers, at least!”

“but that claim was from the 2000’s, miss (y/n), for all we know it could’ve been resolved by then.”

“then why didn’t you say anything about chō’s scholar article from the 1990’s?” you’re standing up, now, furrowed eyebrows depicting the very thing you feel: confusion, agitation at being treated like this. given you weren’t in the best condition when you wrote this essay, but you still gave it your all.

“her argument was about the interconnectedness between the romance languages — yours,” he punctuates while leaning back in his chair. you don’t like how your eyes flit down to his lap, but you’re forced to look up when he stands up too, “is about the use of ciphers in comparison to an immature language developed on the internet that created in the 2019s. any scholar claim before that would be void.”

your blood boils just like that day. alas, he had a good point, but like always, the gentle slit of his eyes and the all-knowing smile didn’t match the bullying he was laying on you and you despise it.

even! even, as you notice how there’s probably less than a inch between your faces as you puff out your chest to look more intimidating and yet geto suguru towers over you. and even when your heart beats loudly in your ears, feeling his hot breath fan over your own face while you don’t miss how he licks his lips and glances down to yours not-so-secretly.

you swallow at the silence, until there’s the annoying notification of his Outlook cutting the tension and soon you’re snatching the essay from him, walking to where your bag is. although you want to let your anger overflow, all you say is a tame, “noted. thanks, prof” with a glare, eye twitching.

you made sure to slam the classroom door with shaky hands . .

. . but you’re not very good at capping your rage. “i swear to god! he better fucking check his mirror and admire himself because soon i’m going to beat him up so bad that everyone can’t recognise him.” geto’s lips turn up in a small smirk at your flared expression he just witnessed — he just loves your dirty mouth and he finds himself thinking of it more and more often.

chō only can tut, “so you find him attractive?”

“what? how the hell did you infer that from my rant?” you scoff, shoving her to the side, not aware that your whispered outburst is heard as he’s packing up. he simply enjoys looking at you walk away through the glass slit of the door, hips swaying unknowingly.

“bad news, guys,” geto, or rather Uzumaki, sighs on screen, adjusting so the lens of the camera rested just below his collarbones. easily, his chat fills up with a mixture of horny comments and genuine questions, chuckling to himself as he unbuttons his shirt. he feels more like a sinner at this point, suddenly flustered with the confession he’s about to make.

“i think i’ve taken quite a liking to someone,” geto hums, hands going to his trousers to palm his bulge. he had to get home immediately after that, cancelling his meetings for the day. with a single text to gojo, the white-haired man was excited to hear everything about this new person, thankful that his best friend will finally not be alone.

[g_bigdick_s]: TELL US! TELL US!!!! TELL US!

but professor geto is lost instantly, imagining you as he massages his erection. thinking about your anger transforming into pleasure, into obedience for him as he forces your mouth down on his cock. oh . . how’d your mouth and hands feel, how’d your pussy feel.

geto groans, already removing his dick from the constraints, and pumping it to full length. he doesn’t even talk much, only the endless comments and tips reminding him he was still on live. spitting on his hand, he wraps his hand around himself again, thumbing the tip and hoping it’d be your tongue swirling around it.

what would you look like on your knees, taking each inch of his cock down your throat? would he be able to wipe the defiance off your face? would he be able to fuck his smart student, dumb?

“you need a good destress, woman,” chō suggests over the phone, voice a bit uneven due to it being stuck in between her shoulder and ear, “go on camstar or something, i’m sure you’ll find something hot there.”

“chō, i am not going on a porn streaming website! i’ll very much settle for my smut fics, thank you.”

“boo, don’t you get bored? i get that normal adult industry videos are super inaccurate but . . when was the last time you’ve watched an unfiltered, unedited jerk off vid? that’s the hottest.”

you scoff, “yeah, like you would know, miss complain-whenever-you-get-dick-pics.”

“that’s because it’s unsolicited! plus all the men who send me pics have ugly dicks. if anything i’m more open to get unsolicited pussy pics rather than consensual dick pics at this point.” your friend nonchalantly says, spreading her fingers to look at her manicured nails, “but anyway, prof geto is on your ass too much lately. maybe he wants to get in your pants?”

you don’t recoil at the suggestion as much as you expect to and you’re puzzled at that — “please never say that again.” just as you’re saying this, you’re typing in camstar.org even though you told yourself not to but deep down, you know that you’ve been craving more than just twitter links and porn with plot stories. on the front page, you’re seeing a video thumbnail of a guy with a fairly big . . feature, countless tattoos lining his body while you can catch a faint glimpse of his long hair in the dark room — it’s the only one that draws you in, other streams merging into a blur.

chō’s voice fades off when you notice just how popular the stream is, cursor hovering over the title (“just a ramblefap, need to release some tension”) almost tempting you to click.

“okay, will get back to you,” succumbing to your needs, you shamelessly grab your vibrator just as she cheers into the phone. you can hear that’s my girl! on the other side as you stifle a smile, bidding a goodbye before you settle into bed. from there, you do what you always do: relax for a few, slow your breathing, get yourself wet a little—

click.

The stream you have attempted to view has ended a minute ago. We apologise for the inconvenience caused. View more livestreams below:

you shove the vibrator under your pillow and bury your head into it, screaming.

“i mentioned in yesterday’s lecture that Latin evolved from the dialects of the Italic peoples of ancient Italy, or Latium, a region in central western Italy. over time, Latin absorbed elements from other languages, such as Etruscan and Greek, and it became the main language of the western Mediterranean.” professor geto rambled on in classic geto fashion — it was his passion that made him so easy to listen to, as with the many enamoured girls with googly eyes and the guys who wish they could carry themselves the way geto did.

you’d say the same thing: his love for his subject of study made him attractive — charming even — as much as you didn’t want to admit to your friend, but you’d be more open with your attraction like everyone is if he wasn’t—

[9:52am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] so fucking annoying and cocky and picking on me all the time!!!!!! im soooo sick of him im so serious omfg ....

but today, he’s looking less at you and more at other students, or even marvelling at the terrible paint job of the classroom as he goes from slide to slide. he talks about the derivation in which French separates from Latin, borrowing similar spellings and meanings from the old language while separating the way they are spoken.

“French is the most divergent of the romance languages because of strong Gallic and Frankish influences. The Celtic Gauls spoke a language similar to Old Dutch but adopted Latin as the Romans invaded Gaul.” you don’t even have to look at him to get him thinking of lewd things, spiralling into his fantasies ever since last night. geto is a little fatigued, too, having lost sleep over his fucking student which he just can’t help bothering. excitement at having you in class before is now turning into dread with every week that passes, and this week is just one instance.

“uh— i-i know you guys aren’t well-versed in either, but with your knowledge of both languages,” geto pulls at his tie. he feels hot, “discuss with your tutorial groups, the differences between the two and list down examples. just come up with one difference, but preferably name a few instances.”

[10:01am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] wish u were here im so bored 😭😭 profs acting so weird today tho

[10:01am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] is he looking hot and bothered, nervous ??? like he wants to cry? im tellin you he wants you fr

of course she’d come out of her sickness-induced sleep just to bother you about him having the hots for you.

[10:02am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] you’re so ... i swear pls shut up he may want me but i do NOT want him

[10:03am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] not even while you were just ranting about how his side profile looked a little too good in lecture yesterday?? anyway i hope you’ll be able to get that nut tn 🙏🏼 that guy on camstar sounded hot asf

[10:04am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] ikr i cant believe i got cockblocked by a fuckin livestream ending 💀 thank you fr i need it atp

“any progress here?” he comes out behind you and you slam the phone so hard you give the both of you a scare while your other friends exchange giggles with each other. what you don’t know, is how his arm is positioned upon the back of your chair and his whole body hovers just beside yours. you’re threatened to look, but you know if you do, you’d be falling deeper into the pit that you promised yourself not to fall into.

“yup, we’re just discussing things about how in terms of grammar, French has conjugation but almost no declension. but— uh, it rather uses word order to express some of the intricacies that Latin expresses through word endings.”

you can see geto nod from your peripheral, “good. good answer, any examples to show me?”

your friends nod towards you since you’re usually the one with all the information about different languages. they aren’t foreign to the way geto keeps calling on you to answer him, too, so you shouldn’t have any problem with this, right?

wrong. you’re stuttering through your answer, turning your head finally and being met with the sight of prof geto looking down on you like a deer caught in headlights. you think that being in lecture theatres, sitting near to the back and your hatred in general has desensitised you to the beauty of your professor, because being under him like this makes your core pulse uncomfortably and your voice shaky.

“. . hm? what was that?”

“i was uhm— saying how— uh,” the way geto nods at you makes you more nervous, painting you as someone who someone who had all bark and no bite, but the other knows very well that you had a nasty bite. you’re smart and witty, pretty, hot as fuck, and if anything, it’s taking everything in geto not to bend you over and show you your place in this very classroom in front of everyone, too.

“little lady got nothin’ for me today?” geto purses his lips and lets his teasing side take over, an easy-going smile taking over his features that you just want to kiss and slap off at the same time. wait.

“i didn’t get enough sleep because i was too busy trying to rewrite the damn essay you said i had outdated and missing sources for,” you speak through gritted teeth, feeling a mixture of arousal and pure rage for the man hovering over you.

geto juts his lip out in a pout, face getting dangerously close to yours and challenging you. he just hopes your two friends won’t say anything, “well, darling, if you picked an easier topic to argue about, you wouldn’t be doing that, would you?”

“well, sorry i’m always trying to outdo myself. are you, professor geto? what with your boring suits and black and white slide designs?”

you click your tongue and turn back to your phone to pull up your chat with chō while geto takes a deep breath, desperately hoping the hard-on wouldn’t show through his slacks. your other two friends only giggle even more at the exchange, because for the rest of the class, professor geto is on edge, unable to teach coherently.

[11:17pm, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] YOU DID WHAAAAATTTTT...???? GIRL YOU SAID THAT???!!!!!!

[11:18pm, (y/n) -> chō 💟] bro what if i get expelled.. i shouldnt have but he was pissing me off so much... i did put an apology in the end tho

by then, you’ve already submitted your rewritten essay, putting in a short note at the end for your behaviour in class. although you don’t take it back, you’re still trying to play it safe especially with how much you paid to get into university. you scroll along camstar, bored out of your mind and hoping to find something as compelling as the inked guy from last week, but nothing really draws you in. until you’re refreshing the page, and just like the previous time, the popularity of that same bulking guy seems to push his video to the top.

and finally, before you’re clicking into the video, you check out his profile: in his early thirties, started this account when he was 24 and in university. you smack your lips at that — he’s been doing this for almost ten years? that’s dedication. in curiosity, you scroll down his account, seeing the progression of which this guy built up his figure and tattoos that litter his body. he’s kept the same format, camera showing his body chest down until you’re lazy to scroll more, a little disappointed in not being able to find any indication of his face.

you think that maybe you saw a glimpse of that wrist tattoo that matched the tattoo on your professor’s wrist, but you could just be imagining things.

“alright guys . .” the man on the screen huffs, clothes already discarded to get straight to the point, and you’re recording a small snippet of the same guy you told chō about. “had a rough day today.”

the onslaught of comments going i can make u feel better!!! Take ur anger out on me Uzumaki-san makes you sputter and laugh, sending that video first before you’re taking another. your attention is stolen for a moment, seeing chō react with emojis to your video message (“let’s see what emails i got today, huh?”), but the structure of sentences that the man speaks soon brings you out of jollity and into shock.

“how cute, an essay sent straight to my email.” geto wants to do anything but look at emails right now, but ever since he’s gotten your rewritten assignment, it’s all he’s wanted to check out if it wasn’t for the many meetings and errands he had to run today. “yadda yadda . . oh?”

“i’m sorry for today’s lesson,” purposely pausing to leave out his name, geto continues on, “i shouldn’t have reacted in that way no matter the situation.” a smirk forms on his face while your body fills with dread. in your panic, you pull up your own document whilst catching all of this on camera, tracking each word as the man on camstar.org continues to say out your apology word by word.

and then bit by bit, you’re making out how the man behind the camera might, just might be your linguistics professor. the broad shoulders, the jawline, the long hair, the manspread . .

but even with your heightened combination of excitement and revelation, you don’t click away, blindly sending the video to your friend and then shamefully digging under your pillow to grab your vibrator.

“teaching people is so difficult sometimes, guys,” he grunts, pulling down his underwear and revealing his already hard cock. he lets out a shaky sigh as he wraps a hand around his shaft, “you usually get the people who won’t do any work, the ones who are absent half the time — usually they go hand in hand.”

professor geto laughs and you twitch at the lovely sound. “but . . there’s this one girl . . in my classes— f-fuck.”

you’re entranced, watching your professor masturbate in front of thousands of people who possibly didn’t know a thing about this man while you try to get your jaw off the floor, “who is entirely different from these categories.”

“she’s smart,” geto groans out and you watch transfixed as he starts to pump himself, hips grinding up into his palm, “she’s so smart that i’d want to get to know her one day and just talk about anything.”

“s-she’s so fucking attractive, too, you guys won’t even— oh goddd . .” you feel like you’re being watched, so you’re careful with how you’re putting your vibrator to your core and once you start it, the moan that leaves you lines up with geto’s deeper groans. it turns you on so damn much.

with his head tilted back, he’s long gone as he moves his hands faster and faster, the slick noises of his pre-cum and spit mixing in together — geto only wishes he could act on his desires once the course was over, but knows you’ll probably be mortified at the prospect. at least here, he can imagine that it’s your mouth or cunt doing all the work.

“s-shitttt . .” the professor sounds out, hissing when he thumbs his tip and even more pre comes spilling out and while you watch, you’re hypnotised by the beautiful moans in its perfect cadence and the thickness of his cock. by now his chest is heaving and he’s holding onto his bedsheets so tight you wish it was your thighs.

“i want to fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head and get her dumb on my cock,” geto whines, hips fully bucking up now while you press your vibrator deeper into your clit. you’re left wondering how his mouth would feel, to shut him up by pressing him into your cunt until he can’t breathe, soak his stupid fucking suits, “want to hear her moan my name.”

you whimper at all the things professor geto swears he wants to do to you, grinding into your hand while he speeds up as well. he doesn’t speak, simply stroking himself as he thighs tense up and he squeezes his shaft with head full of visions of you in terribly lewd positions, making disgusting sounds, and all for him. it isn’t long before geto cums with a loud drawn out moan, shooting his cum onto his torso with a sigh before taking a sticky hand to his lips, licking it off — “i’d want to see my cum dripping out of her one day.”

that sends a chill down to your core, biting your pillow before you release softly all over your hand and vibrator; you spend the rest of the night watching professor geto’s other videos.

[12:32am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] oh. OH..........

“i should’ve just taken an off-day today, i do not want to get back our results.” chō rubs at her eyes and temples, wanting anything to do with the return of test marks, but unfortunately it was the week after midterms and it was inevitable, “don’t need to ask you though, you’re probably not worried at all.”

“trust me, i am,” you bite the inside of your cheek. it’s been at least . . two weeks after that whole debacle, and despite your intense vents with your friend and the continuous picking on by prof. geto, nothing out of the blue was happening. except, maybe, your growing physical need for your professor and your simultaneous, increasing hatred for him.

“it’s only midterms — you don’t need to worry too much since it doesn’t contain a high percentage. what you should be focusing on are your finals. we’ll work on your shortcomings and mistakes here so you guys will do the best when the time comes.”

and when professor geto comes around to hand you your test, all you do is glare up through your lids, taking it from him before feeling your whole world crumble.

“a B+?!” your mouth gapes open at the blatant 65/100 mark that glares back at you. you know that you would’ve gotten anything but a 65, willing yourself to study harder and harder just to rub it in his pretty little face that you weren’t falling behind in his class. at this point it’s got to be personal, so soon, you’re packing up your things angrily with the intent to storm his office after your other classes.

it’s late in the afternoon when you finally finish your other tutorials on a short fuse, him clearly getting ready to head home by the darkness of his office when you shove your way through the door.

professor geto is sat in a laid-back position, tie hung on the hooks installed in the office and a few buttons are unbuttoned, revealing the very familiar tattoos you’ve become acquainted with.

“to who do i owe the pleasure?”

“cut the crap, prof.,” you scowl, using your foot to slam the office door close. despite the late nights being buried in your sheets, you won’t let yourself be treated like this, “i deserved anything but a 65 on midterms.”

geto tilts his head, sitting up and gesturing out to you; you realise he wants to see your test paper.

“ah!” with a finger, he makes a show of finding for your obvious mistakes which was minimal — but the way he marks obnoxiously tells you everything you need to know, “here. your comprehension of the similarities between Latin and Ancient Greek was too surface level, you didn’t explain why—”

“i. did!” you press down into the paper like the first time, leaning over his table and reading out the exact answer you wrote just a few days ago, “here, since your blind ass wants to act like i wasn’t answering the question.” you push yourself into his desk more, eyes levelled with his. you dare him to say something smart.

“well, your explanation of the six cases in Latin left out the locative, the last one, and there were some problems in the conjugation that the test asked of you.”

“bullshit. show me, if you’re so confident.”

professor geto knows he’s hit a dead-end. he was telling lies, full of it, but he’s enjoying every second of the anger that translates into your features, of the growl in your voice. he leans back further the more you close in on him.

“nothing, right? so tell me, do you hate me that much?”

geto simply laughs, crossing his arms and reminiscing on the many nights he’s spent doing anything but.

“quite the opposite, sweetheart.” the name catches you off-guard for a moment, but your sour face returns soon enough.

“then what the fuck do you think you’re doing, picking endlessly on a student?”

your professor sits forward, prompting you to cower back. you think it’d be good to bring up whatever he’s got going on on camstar.org but you’ll wait to a good moment before you say anything about your trump card, until geto snaps you out of your stupor by towering over you. the sheer difference makes you swallow.

“because i like seeing you flared up and angry and mad.” professor geto surprises you with each second, the nonchalance in which he said it, the stupid, attractive smirk on his face. now’s the time.

you compose yourself, thinking of the best way to phrase this, “you know you’re not entirely safe, either, you know. i could report you with the frequency in which you’re picking on me.”

you point a finger to his chest, thinking you could get him to lay off immediately with this as much as you were hoping he wouldn’t. the attention was unwarranted but not entirely . . terrible, “that wouldn’t look so good on your record, right, Uzumaki-san?”

you relish in the surprise that seeps into geto’s pretty features but it’s a short-lived victory when he goes back into a relaxed state, expression neutral — “so you know.”

“know . . what?” your professor pulls away and walks around his desk, finally in close proximity to you like he’s always wished.

“how badly i want you.” he whispers, but doesn’t go past that, rather letting you figure everything out for yourself.

“‘. . fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head’, right?” you mumble softly, not admitting to even chō that you had watched that livestream over and over enough to memorise the few sentences. geto wraps an arm around your waist to tug you closer, faces so close that you could just shut him up.

“go on.”

“you want me to go dumb on your cock,” professor geto mutters a correct which undeniably sends a thrill to your core.

“you want to hear me to moan your name.” “—want to hear her moan my name.”

a small smile spreads across his face (even if you left out the most important thing) as he finishes his own sentence with you, eyes clouded over with lust and your scent and he’s positive he can smell your soaked panties from here if he tries hard enough.

“that’s right.”

“sooo . .” by god, you fucking hated the man, but seeing someone stroke their cock to just the thought of you — how could you pass off such a good opportunity? “do you prefer professor geto, or suguru?”

geto groans at his first name usage, setting you on his desk and presses himself into you at the sound of papers flying to the floor, stationary falling to the ground. he can only hope no one walks in. he’s fully hard, loving how your legs naturally spread for him.

“whatever you want, baby.” and after, it’s all history with the way geto crashes his lips into yours, letting you pull at his jacket and shirt, practically ripping open the buttons to see his tattoos that you’re begging to see. slowly, he lets you trace them while he kisses down your neck, roughly pulling your sweater off of you. you have the cutest tits, packaged nicely in your bra which he has no trouble taking off. there’s a small sound that escapes his mouth when he unclasps your bra and your breasts come falling out.

“didn’t tell me you had such a nice pair . .” you giggle.

“yeah, like i would straight up tell my professor that.” with a hand, your hand follows the ink of his dragon that wraps around his body and torso, right down to his happy trail, “but i mean, you get the honour of seeing it now.”

with a squeeze to his bulge, you whisper, “maybe i’ll let you fuck them next time.”

geto lets out a little moan, “fucking minx,” before he latches his mouth onto your nipple, kneading the other greedily. a soft moan leaves your mouth as you knead his erection, a culmination of your combined groans in the quiet office. soon he’s giving attention to the other, a hand trailing down into your panties where he rubs your clit to test the waters, and he smiles into your skin at the way your hand falters and your head hangs forward.

“p-professor . .” it’s clear geto can’t wait, because he pushes a finger into you easily with how dripping wet you are, panties showing a dark patch of your juices. “s— so thick—”

“i know, baby, gotta stretch you out,” a soft pop! is heard as he comes off your nipple before he meets your lips in a sloppy kiss. he shoves his tongue into your mouth the moment he pushes a second finger in and he swallows your moans, letting you feel around his body to dig your nails in — it was just too damn much.

“so— suguru, your f-fingers, they’re so—” even with your protests, your hips grind up against his thick fingers that are pumping in and out of you, taking every last piece of fire in you as you succumb completely.

“what, miss (y/n)?” geto memorises the exact way all your previous blazing words are reduced to mere mewls and whimpers, alongside your pleas for more, more, more.

“i need something—” you whine when he pushes all the way inside, stretching your cunt so well as you clench around him like a vice and sucking him in, “i wanna make you feel good—”

you get at least a little resolve in the time it took you to say that, drunkenly unbuckling his belt before pulling his cock out. his tip is positively leaking, fingers curling instinctively in your pussy and your moans mingle together again.

“c’mon, prof, please?” geto tuts, reluctantly removing his fingers from your cunt which he wish he could spend more of his time in, but gives in to you as you switch positions, pushing him against his own desk. from there you’re going to your knees, marvelling at the cock you’ve watched on your very own screen.

“better than you imagined?”

you roll your eyes, “shut up or i’m blue-balling you.”

geto exhales forcefully, cut off when you put your mouth gently over his tip. you suckle on it like a pacifier, swirling your tongue around the mushroom head and looking up at him through your lashes; the sight is heavenly. the hair from his bun had fallen out, framing his pleasure-filled face, and the veins on his arms pop out so much from how harshly he’s grabbing the wood.

“f-fuck, baby . .” his words are lost once you start bobbing your head, encasing his shaft deep in your mouth as you suck and lick and slobber over his thick cock, using your hands to stroke the places you can’t reach. a choked moan weasels itself out of geto when one of your hands deviate to play with his balls, squeezing lightly at the sack while you continue to lick the underside of his length.

“take me like a slut, don’t you?” geto says breathlessly, fingers going through your hair to gather the strands into a makeshift ponytail, cradling your head to guide your mouth, but he soon starts to thrust into your waiting mouth.

“want me to fuck your dirty whore mouth?” your professor asks and you hate how much it turns you on as he brings you off to let you breathe for a moment. you stick out your tongue, big doe eyes just pleading to be used as your hands anchor themselves down to his belt loops.

“y—yes, prof., give me everything you got,” geto hums, seemingly satisfied with your answer as he taps your tongue with his tip, cock so heavy and thick it makes you whine a little before he shoves it in without warning. the moan that rumbles deep in your throat sends vibrations up his body and he starts a pace immediately.

“that’s it, that’s it—” you breathe through your nose as geto face fucks you, two hands covering the back of your head as he thrusts into your throat. your mouth’s just so damn warm and tight it has geto groaning non-stop while your eyes start to well up with tears. he uses you like a cocksleeve, abusing your throat each time his tip meets with it.

“fuuuckk— yes, yes, your throat’s so—” geto tilts his head back when he buries his cock in you, the deepest he’s ever been and your nose meets with his pubes, the smell of his musk and sweat making your eyes roll back in pleasure. suguru is all grunts before moving again, the gagging, gawking noises filling the small space.

“mmhm— mmf!” you moan around his length, trying your best to move your tongue along the underside of his cock. a hand goes down to quell the growing need of your cunt, slipping a finger or two in.

“dirty girl just can’t think straight when she has a— s-shit— cock in her, huh?”

you hum in agreement, eyes fluttering when you feel his tip twitch in your mouth and geto spills right into your throat with a long moan. your lids flutter close, taking as much cum as you can before coming off with a deep breath. strings of his cum and your saliva connect you to his cock, the lewdness of it all showing clearly in how sloppily you sucked your professor off.

“open.” and you show your tongue still full of his cum, taking the opportunity to lean down to let a ball of spit fall from his mouth. it drops painfully slow to your tongue, closing it only when you hear the rasp of swallow, “good girl.”

“think i’ve kept you waiting for too long, need to be in you,” geto brings you up by your upper arms, propping you up nicely onto his desk where you already start to leak into the wood, “do you want me to be in you?”

“only if you promise to stop picking on me, prof.,” you pout. really, a changed girl once you get some cock, huh?

“but you’re too cute not to bother, baby.” your pout deepens and geto feels a tug on his heart. oh, you were too adorable, knowing you’d kill him the next time he mentions this. he hopes they’ll be a next time.

“i mean it, suguru,” you murmur as he uses his tip to play with your juices, smearing it around your cunt. “treat me like a proper person.”

“can i at least treat you like a slut behind closed doors?”

you bit your lip, he’s asking for a next time, and who are you to reject him?

“whatever you want, professor,” you wiggle your hips along his cock, hoping for some friction which he grants to you with no problem, “use me. treat me like your cum dump.”

geto hisses at your tightness and your words as he bottoms out in you. he’s had your pussy once and already cannot get enough of you, moaning each time he moves in and out of your cunt. your walls hug him so snugly, sucking his cock in endlessly.

“baby, baby, baaaby . . your pussy’s so fuckin’— good—” he grunts into your ears, hips starting to thrust slowly into you. he swears he can see you in your tummy, asking you to look down, “look at how deep i am in you, sweetheart.”

you moan at just how big he was as you glance down, but you’re more focused on the way your pussy spreads for him, the cute veins on his length as he moves in you. you’re leaking so much that it’s effortlessly, the way he rams into you.

“sugu— suguru . . mmfuck—” geto groans upon feeling you rub your clit, your own hips bucking needily into his own as your juices start to drip down his balls. this was everything that he hoped would happen; your features morphed into pleasure, you descending into stupidity just from some dick, feeling your pussy, finally.

“hear yourself?” your professor proposes the question and you’re confused for a moment until he slows down and you whine at the sudden change, brought to attention just how soaking you were. the soft shlick, shlick, shlick sounds take your breath away, as with the translucent sheen of your juices coating his cock.

there, your professor resumes his pace, “hear how fuckin’ sloppy this pussy is for me. listen to her,” your senses are all overwhelmed: by how he hits all your sweet spots, the sweat on your back, your fast-beating heart and you let out a mangled whimper, “yesss . . that’s what i like to hear.”

geto smirks at how you can’t even answer, picking up his pace into a regular one. with his cock buried deep in you, you have no choice but to let your body move with his thrusts, jerking each time his balls meet your ass noisily.

“is this what the little lady needed? just some professor cock to get her to not be so damn uptight!”

“y—yessss . .” you’re delirious, “yesyesyes, suguru!” you squeal when he holds your legs up and pushes your legs into your chest, tongue lolling out at the deepness that he was in you.

“fucking slut,” geto mumbled, hips turning sloppy with fatigue taking over, but your cunt was just too good to stop, “where d’you want me to cum, baby?” he knows you’ll answer how he wants you to, especially after watching his livestream—

“i-inside— inside, pleaseplease,” the circles on your clit are messy, now, chasing your high more than ever, but your pussy is grasping onto him like a vice, prompting groans deep from his throat. “want your cum dripping out of me, prof—”

those words alone has geto shooting his load with a strangled grunt, switching to shallow, quick thrusts to pump you full of his cum. it comes out in hot, thick spurts, filling your insides more and more until it spills out the sides and you follow soon after, whole body convulsing from the intense orgasm you can’t stop shaking violently.

“take it— that’s it, attagirl,” he whines out, stroking his length to make sure you’re getting every last drop out of him, “take all my cum . .”

geto is sure he’s getting old by the way he feels lightheaded, having had to hold onto the edge of the table for a minute — but in that 60 seconds you’ve stumbled off the table and laid your chest over it, perking your ass up where your pussy continues to leak hot, white cum.

your professor takes one good look at your ass, hands going up to knead at them and spreads your cheeks. with his tongue, he eats his cum out of you, making your jerk at the sensitivity.

“oops, i’ve cleaned you up of my cum — guess i gotta give you a couple more loads,” geto props a leg up, eating you out, “it’s only right since my brightest student has suffered so much at my hands . .”

tagging @arminsumi @shidouryusm @suguruplsr @crysugu @slttygeto @suget @sonarspace @marimogf @hannzai &lt;3 ok gn

#kinda hate how this turned out goodnight loooooool #luna u sending in that ask made me think of this song LMFAOOO and i rlly didnt know what title to use so i just... dumb dick i guess LMAOAO #asks #🍒 anon 2 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #getou suguru #geto smut #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto x you #getou smut #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru smut #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader #jjk thirsts #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen geto #geto suguru #getou x reader #suguru geto #getou x you #suguru x reader

[thereticx]

ᎠᏆᏙϴᎡᏟᎬ́Ꭼ II.

♰Summary: Even after your confession, his life had to move forward and in order to do that his wife had to listen to everything that has happened after your first kiss.

♰Warnings: explicit sexual content, cheating, toxic relationships, mention of cigarettes etc.

♰Author's Note: Welcome back to part two of longest fic I've ever written.

The professor’s voice was faint in the background. As you continued to stare out the window — tiny raindrops hitting the large windows aggressively, you were more interested in the weather outside rather than any school work.

A few weeks after the incident, life was slowly retaking its course. At first there were angry calls, threatening messages and God knows what else — you've stopped checking after some time.

It was exhausting.

Each minute was spent in frustration, wondering if you did the right thing or was it just a carnal desire to hurt him? Maybe both. You still don't know for sure.

•

She was heartbroken. Betrayed and lied to for months on end. He could apologize hundreds of times and she still won't look at him the same again.

The look of pure adoration, of desire, of love she carried for her husband thinned out the second she heard your voice. An angelic and sensual sound but with the most venomous words.

She was right all along. You wanted to destroy something beautiful, something that would have lasted for many many years if it wasn't for you.

You were a poison, finding your way in the middle of their relationship, tearing it from the inside — like a disease and feeling no remorse.

“LIAR!!” She screamed, the tears flowing down her cheeks. She went pale only by thinking of the two of you together, on the same bed she shared with Geto for four years.

However, he didn't react. The man only looked down, ashamed of his own person. What he did was unforgivable and he deserved everything that was coming his way.

•

“Was it worth it?”

“Excuse me..?”

Your father cleared his throat. “Was it worth it — what you did?”

“No” You admitted, clenching your fist at your side “It wasn't worth it”

He tightened grip on the counter’s edge and gave you an ultimatum “I hope you're aware of the shit show you created. I don't care how you do it but you're gonna fix this. If not —”

“I know…”

As he walked out of the kitchen he glanced at you with pity “You're my daughter and I love you..but I must say I'm ashamed of you”

Somehow, that felt worse than your ‘break up’ with Geto. Which made you realize how far gone you actually were.

•

Cigarette smoke escaped his pierced lips, the strong scent getting lost in the air. He could barely concentrate on his work – on anything for the matter. Geto had a painful headache that started in the early hours of the morning, shortly after his wife left for the appointment. Although they still lived together in the same luxurious apartment, their paths never crossed.

He sipped on his coffee, the cigarette later forgotten in the ashtray — still lit. The man typed fast on the keyboard, checking his recent emails, his recent messages, hoping none of them to be from your father ”Fuck me–”.

His eyes read each word at least two times before moving on to the next sentence. Everything seemed a bit too formal, not at all like the messages your father used to send.

He apologized on your behalf for the chaos provoked and asked to meet again, at dinner.

Geto massaged his temples, the headache more unbearable than before. How could he possibly respond to this? Having dinner and drinks at your house, the same house where the two of you first bonded. It would be wrong for him to accept and it would be wrong for him to decline.

Dammit.

”You seem lost” His wife stood there, with her arms crossed, her weight supported by the glass door. She was dressed in a white dress that was hiding her growing belly.

He closed his laptop. Before shifting his body to face her better. His eyes widened. ”What?” She asked, her piercing gaze raising goosebumps on his skin ”Nothing. Just surprised you're talking to me” Geto admitted, clasping his hands together. He was nervous and she could tell.

”Yeah..don't get used to it. I'm still furious but I have been thinking and I'm willing to listen. No screams, no fights…just a talk” She said, motioning for him to make her room to sit next to him. She rested her arms behind her body, sneaking a glance at the man she loves.

Geto felt his heartbeat uncontrollably. Fuck, where can he begin?

•

Your laugh was contagious. A sound so melodic to his ears — beautiful. Seeing you there, in his arms, naked and vulnerable — he could die from just looking at you.

He supported his weight on his right arm, the other tracing the apple of your cheeks, down to your lips, your chin — that he slightly tilted up so his lips could reach yours.

Geto could feel you smiling between the kisses, your happiness radiating off your lips, and body, your hands gathering as much of his dark hair as possible, forcing him to deepen the kiss.

It was impossible to stop at just one kiss when it was you. He couldn't remember the last he felt as much desire, a rollercoaster of mixed feelings that all centered around your whole person.

“ I want you” Geto whispered, his fingers finding the warmth of your cunt . His digits spread your folds, then circled your clit, the wetness already dripping down.

You let out a whimper, grinding on his hand for some friction, everything to make you feel satisfied. “I want you too” The words made the man above you completely unguarded.

He sank two of his digits into your hole, fingering you slowly, eager to hear you beg — like the very first time.

“Mmhh..”

“Feels good?” He asked, already sure of your answer.

You nodded your head before lowering your own hand to play with the puffy clit between your legs “You know it does…f-fuck”

___

“Careful with that”

“Shut up and trust me” You chuckled, taking another strand of hair and wrapping it around the curling iron.

You'd never seen such beautiful hair on anyone — and healthy. You almost felt jealous. After a few seconds you let go of the strand and curled it again with your finger then let it fall softly around his face.

Geto was surprisingly patient while you styled his hair, each strand made individually ”Are you finished?” He asked, tugging at his bangs only for the curls to bounce back ”I'm almost done” You said.

”Hurry. My butt is hurting”Laughing softly, you let go of the last piece of hair and reached for the expensive hair oil he always uses. A few pumps should be enough. You massaged your palms together before applying it ”Please let me take a few pics”

He turned his head to look at you ”Fuck no”

”Why–I promise I won't show them to anyone”

Geto, as much as he wanted to deny you, those pouty lips of yours could not be resisted. He sighed ”Fine, but only if I get something in return”

You smiled and immediately unlocked your phone ”Anything”

The man waited until you photographed his hair and grabbed your waist for you to settle on his lap. He pulled the bangs out of his face, the shorter strands resting on his naked shoulders ”Open the camera” Geto said, his hands pulling you closer, your chest smashing against his.

You did as you were told. ”Now angle it to your face” Again, following his command ”Press the video button”.

Clicking on the red dot the camera started recording and with that the fun began.

Geto angled you chin down, his lips touching yours in a soft, almost featherly kiss. With his eyes half lidded, he smirked before licking your bottom lip, asking for entrance.

You struggled to hold the phone at face angle and not drop it on the floor. The kiss grew more passionate, more rough, his tongue tasting yours. Never in your life were you kissed like that.

The boys you have been with were impatient and restless. They wanted one thing only – sex.

Geto was different. Patient, careful and so fucking passionate. Maybe because he was older, more aware and experienced. He always played his cards right, a single kiss from him getting more reactions out of you than needed.

He guided your hips to feel his growing erection, squeezing the fat of your ass, his hands tracing your back, tugging at your breasts ”Geto–”

”Is something bothering you?” The man chuckled, playing with the hem of your shirt ”Want to stop?”

You wanted so badly to feel him inside you now, if only a faded image of his wife hadn't shown up ”N-no but we have to”

He kissed down your neck before ripping the shirt and getting rid of your bra. Geto cupped your breasts and traced your nipples with his tongue ”No we don't”

”Mmmhh”

You tugged at the roots of his hair as he continued to suck on your breasts. His face was basically mushed in your chest but he could hardly care. Nothing was better than the feeling of you.

”Please stop–” You begged, depriving yourself of the euphoric feeling of your orgasm.

Geto pulled away, his face resting now on your shoulder ”What's wrong?Tell me”

You shook your head and got off of him. You didn't bother to pick up your bra and you just went straight to the bathroom.

While you were aggressively washing your face, wishing for the horrible person to just disappear, Geto stayed unmoved on the floor – wishing for the first time in years to be unmarried.

____

Something was terribly wrong. Why was he shutting her out? His own fucking wife.

She watched her husband leave the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his hips. His hair was dripping wet, making him shiver. “Do you need help drying your hair?” She asked, closing her book for a mere second.

He seemed lost, pacing around the room in search of something — anything “You're acting weird. Did something happen at work?”

“I skipped today” He muttered, tying his wet locks into a bun, his bangs falling out in an instant. With his hair now up, his wife had a perfect view of his muscular back.

She set her book aside and crawled behind him, her lips kissing up his shoulder blade all the way to his neck “You're in a bad mood.

“I'm not”

She lowered her hand so she could feel him through the material “Yes you are. Luckily I know exactly how to help you”

He grabbed her wrist, preventing her from removing the towel “I'm not feeling it tonight”

She placed her chin on his shoulder, pouting her lips, hoping that this method would convince him to give in.

Unfortunately, a man like Geto, when he decided on something, it should stay that way “Cut it off–” He turned to her, shrugging her off of him “I said I'm not feeling it”

She was shocked. That was the first time her husband denied her needs. On top of that, he was being rude, inconsiderate and resentful. What happened to the Geto she knew and loved? Because at that moment, a totally different person was sitting in front of her.

“Fine. I'm sorry” She mumbled, before turning around and falling asleep on the other side of the bed — which was cold and lonely.

The next morning however, he was behaving like nothing happened. Geto was smiling, throwing compliments at her, offering to give her a massage which inevitably ended up with him eating her out, making up for the asshole behavior he displayed the night before.

He forced her legs open, his tongue fucking into her cunt repeatedly, his fingers abusing her clit at the same time.

God, your pussy was just the best.

The way you were moaning, arching your back, playing with your tits “F-fuck ohh fuck–”

He loved you. He truly loved you.

“I can't get enough of you. God, I love you” Geto admitted, kissing the inside of your thighs.

Tangling your fingers in his hair you replied “I know you do. I love you too, my husband”

Snapping out of his fantasy, he looked up at the image of his naked wife. She was panting, her cheeks were flushed and her skin was glistening with sweat.

Clearing his throat, Geto unconsciously played with his lip piercing. He was quiet, a wave of concern hitting him abruptly. What was he thinking?

This is not happening….

“My love, what's wrong?” His wife asked, wrapping her legs around his waist, forcing him down.

He didn't resist, entering her with no problem. Her walls tightened around his length right after he started moving.

Thank the lord, for his long hair. The messy dark strands hiding away his embarrassment. Geto forced his eyes shut, biting his tongue, terrified of having your name escape his lips when the erotic feeling of his release would wash over him.

Oh fuck, Y/N….

___

“You have a beautiful smile” He was taken by surprise, but flashing you a big smile nonetheless. The man experienced butterflies in his stomach, the mere presence of you with him, making him feel young again.

Giggling you poked his side, continuing with the teasing “You're getting flustered quite easily. That's good to know”

Geto scrunched his nose before flipping you on your back, his arms caging you down “I'm glad you enjoy seeing me embarrassed” He joked, tugging your hair behind your ear.

“What a beautiful smile you have”

Your cheeks grew warm, hearing how effortlessly he spoke, how gentle.

Ever since you knew him, way before your affair, Geto Suguru has always been a well spoken person. His gentle personality paired with his breathing looks — it might seem like you actually won the lottery. If only….right?

You knew who was in all truth lucky….his wife. The woman that he swore to love endlessly, the woman who wore a custom made wedding band and who was being treated literal heaven every day.

And that woman was not you. You were just a mistress, someone who was there to only pleasure him, nothing more.

You cursed yourself internally for everything. Why'd you have to start this? Why couldn't you stay away and not get involved with him? Why…why?

“Y/N…get back here” He said, kissing your forehead.

You turned your head away, the feeling of his lips burning on your skin. Or was it shame?

Geto clasped your hands together right before speaking “I'll have to go on a trip for a few days. A business trip”

“And?”

“And…I want you to come with me”

“Why don't you take your wife?”

He raised his brows, taken back when hearing your words “Excuse me?”

“You've heard me. Why don't you take her?”

Geto scoffed before pulling away from you “Because I don't want her there with me”

You sat on your knees on the couch, angry at him, at you, at this whole mess “And you want to take me?! Sure thing”

He massaged his temples before pursuing “Yes. What's so wrong about that? About wanting to spend time with you”

“Just look at your ring. That's what's wrong”

You couldn't help it. You couldn't be the only one who suffered, who had demons praying on your sanity as payback for fucking a married man.

“Can't believe you…” He whispered, stretching forward to the glass table where his pack of cigarettes rested. He pulled one out and lit it, taking a fat drag right after.

“Oh really? Then let me ask you this. What would your poor wife think if she saw you fucking with me?”

Geto exhaled through his nose, the smoke disappearing into thin air. He licked his lips before taking another drag.

What has gotten into you? Don't you see how happy you make him? What's his wife have to do with all this? This is just you and him — no one else.

“You mean ex wife”

“Whatever…as long as you wear that ring and she has your name she is your wife and I'm your side chick” The tears were flowing down your face uncontrollably. Not even realizing you were crying, you continued to pour out your heart “I hate to break it to you but I'm not gonna sneak around any longer. I can't do it”

Geto put out his cigarette, rushing to take you into his arms. He held your weak self close to him, trying to comfort you at the best of his abilities.

He hated the sound of your cries. It was heartbreaking. Geto felt like someone just stabbed him and ripped out his heart and then stabbed him again.

“I hate this…and only because I wanted to prove her what I'm actually capable of”

He stopped breathing, his soul leaving his body “What did you say? What you're capable of?! Meaning what?”

Resting your hands on his chest you contemplated whether to tell him the truth or not. It can't get worse than this right?

Wrong.

“Right before that dinner a few months ago…I talked with my friend. I told her about your wife and how she keeps looking at me like I'm the worst thing to ever walk on earth and–”

“And?”

While sobbing, you gather your strength to continue with the story. That way you could actually feel something other than utter disgust — shame.

“I made a decision t-to give her something to truly worry about”

Geto bit his tongue so hard it started bleeding “Don't..”

Of course you didn't listen “It was my idea to get involved with you. Right from the start…it was my idea to make you cheat on her”

He couldn't listen to you anymore. Your words were all fading in the background.

Geto freaked out, rushing to get his jacket and phone and leaving your house as soon as possible. He didn't even hear you yelling after him to stop and listen. He just couldn't.

•

“That's quite a story” She said, unlocking her phone and clicking on the email from your dear father.

Geto nodded absently, before sneaking a glance at his wife's device “What are you doing?”

“I'm just making sure that little bitch would be there to properly apologize for ruining us”

#fanfic #x reader #anime #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk geto #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #suguru geto smut #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #getou suguru x reader #jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk au

[frompearl]

Mrs. Afton’s Daily Life: ONE

Warnings: Age-Gap, Unhealthy Relationships, Unplanned Pregnancy, William being manipulative, NSFW mention, Physical Abuse towards Reader (not from William), Unedited, Very Problematic Behavior™ Overall,

A/N: Ok ngl not too proud of this but please enjoy!

If you were to ask William Afton what were his biggest blessings in life, with zero hesitation the man would answer his wife. He blindly believes that he is also a blessing in her life. 

However.

His obsession with her had ruined her life. 

He had met her when she was eighteen, a beautiful face that he was enamored with immediately. Her shy but kind demeanor had him wrapped around her little finger. He had only talked to her once before he had started to stalk her. The college she would be attending, where she worked, where she lived, everything. He kept track of where she was all the time and he had never felt happier. 

His booming business at Afton Robotics and the Freddy Fazbear Franchise were the second thing that brought him joy, now it was her. 

Then he approached her, all nervous even though he was twenty seven and a tall man. It seemed to a degree, he had the same effect on her. Not as obsessive as he was, but she still loved him nonetheless. 

Even when her friends told her he was not good for her when he was almost a decade older than her. Not even when people would give them concerned looks when they would see her innocent face and his lecherous hold on her. 

Her parents were old fashioned and would be furious if they found out she was with someone way older, is what she told him when he asked to meet them.

He respected her wish but that didn’t deter him from making himself comfortable in her life. They would meet him one way or another because he would be the man who would marry her. Whether they liked it or not. 

He started to take up too much space in her life. The free time she would go with friends or enjoy her solitude, we’re all ignored in dedication to him. She was never alone for he would always be right behind her.

He would whisper venom in her ears, telling her how all she needed was him and that the rest were insignificant. As the naive little rabbit she was, she clung onto every word he spewed from that treacherous mouth. 

She hadn’t realized how she was losing herself to him until she was given a rude awakening. 

The ringing of her telephone had woken her from her sleep, the loud tone ripping her from her blissful sleep.

Her friend, who she hadn’t talked to since she started dating William, had begged her to come to her college because her boyfriend was screaming at one of the professors.

She remembered faintly, as she laid on his bare chest after he made love to her. She confessed that her professor had spoken to the directors of a university she wanted to attend. She smiled happily at how grateful she was towards her professor for he had made it possible for her to take a step forward to her dream career. 

The talk of her dream school was always a sensitive topic around William. It was states away and he had been adamant on wanting her here. He had assumed she wouldn’t be able to attend because she had stayed quiet. But now…

She should have known something was wrong when his grip had tightened on her and he had not responded. 

When she came to her class, she had been shocked to see William pummeling the poor professor to the ground. Two students were trying to rip him away but his big stature made it impossible.

It was only until she cried out for him to stop that the all consuming rage he was in stopped. 

Seeing her terrified eyes spilling with tears as she begged him to stop hitting the old man made him feel regretful.

Not the old man’s blood on his hands or the traumatized faces of the college students watching. Those big e/c eyes looking at him with fear was what made him regret his decision. 

The poor man who had done nothing but help Y/N get a step closer to fulfilling her dreams was crying weakly from the agonizing pain of his broken face bleeding heavily. 

He was all but forgotten, as William stepped over his body towards the cowering little lady. 

She looked fearful of him as he clasped her face in his bloodied hands. The crimson color smeared against her tear-stained cheeks. 

“My dear please. This man wanted to separate us. He wanted to send you to that horrible school where you would be far away from me. Don’t you see how this would hurt us?” He tried to sway her with soothing words, the way he would always be able to manipulate her into doing what he wanted.

But not today.

She screamed and pushed him away as she ran out of the building.  He wanted to pursue her but he was tackled down by a police officer he hadn’t even seen sneaking up in him.

The gut wrenching scream he let out haunted her as she jumped in her car and sped off.

Everything seemed to go downhill from there. The professor who was assaulted had quit his job, for fear of being hurt in a place he deemed safe. He refused to answer to any of his students, especially to Y/N as she desperately tried to contact him.

She was worried for the well being of the man who had helped her. The man she had seen as a father figure when her own had looked down at her for being a woman. 

The professor did not want to see her and she could do nothing but wallow in misery of the lost connection. 

She was also scared of Willaim. She knew how controlling he was and against her furthering her education. She didn’t even want to see him.

She had not talked to William since that day. She had thought he would have been arrested but the constant calls she received from him proved otherwise.

He was put into police custody for the night and was left off with a warning in the morning. The authority was nothing to him when he opened his wallet.

He tried calling her, showing up in places he knew she would be it, anything to see her.

But the little rabbit avoided him so well. It made him foam at the mouth the more he couldn’t see her. 

He wished he could continue to hunt her down and demand why she was avoiding him but his ownership at the pizzeria took up most of his time. 

Until one day she called him after three weeks of silence.

“I’m pregnant.” She whimpered, “I thought the pill worked! But I called the company and they told me there was the risk that sometimes it won’t work and-“

His head was rushing with thoughts. 

Pregnant. She was pregnant. 

He never thought much of fatherhood but just thinking of a cute chubby baby with black hair and her big e/c eyes. He felt his possessiveness grow, a feeling to have her with him at an instant.  

“I’m going to abort it, I’m going to my dream school and I just can’t take care of a baby right now. I felt that you should know.” 

And just like that she went along and ruined it. She ruined it by running away from him and now she wanted to kill the product of their love.

He wouldn’t let her. But this time he would play his cards right. 

“I understand,” he feigned his tone, “when and where will you do it? I’ll pay for it.” He knew she wouldn't be able to afford an abortion, being a college student and her traditionalist parents would have a meltdown if she asked them to help her pay for her abortion. Meanwhile his earnings from the Fazbear company left him with too much money for him to handle. He usually would spend it spoiling her but now he would have to support the little baby growing inside her.

As the naive little bunny she was, she told him where she planned to abort the baby. 

After the call he dialed another number.

He knew it would break her heart, the things he would do to her. But it was for the best.

The morning of the planned abortion, Y/N had received a call from the director of her college.

When she was met by the cold tone of the director of her college, her eyes began to water.

“What are these accusations?” Her lip trembled, “I would never do such a thing!”

“Ms. L/N, the anonymous tip we received has enough evidence to prove you guilty of the attack of that poor old man. You're lucky your professor hasn’t decided to press charges against you.” 

“But I would never hurt him! I don’t know what got into William when he attacked him but please understand I had nothing to do with it.”

“Save your breathe L/N, like I said, the only punishment that you will receive is expulsion from our school and that school he helped you get in? They have taken back their offer, you will not be attending their institution anytime soon.”

Y/N felt her world crumble down. “Y-you can’t do that.” She said in a trembling voice, “you don’t know how hard I worked to get into that school, please understand!” She started to sob.

The unsympathetic woman only sighed disappointed,”yes and for that it's a shame such a bright woman like yourself did this. You do know this will go on your record? Good luck getting into a college that will accept you, goodbye Ms. L/N.”

Like that the phone line went dead and with it your hope and aspirations.

But the universe couldn’t leave you alone.

Before you could bury your face in your hands and cry, there was a sudden banging at your door.

“Y/N!” You hear your mother screeching at you through the door. 

The second bang to the door pushes you to run towards the door.

When you open it you’re met by your father’s disappointed face and your mother’s furious snarl.

“You little slut!” She screams at your face pushing you back.

You fall against the floor, looking at her bewildered, “w-what?” 

“How dare you spread your legs like a common whore, have you no chastity?” She grabs at your hair, dragging you to your feet. 

You tremble under her crazed stare as she shakes you,”we let you pursue your silly education and this is how you repay us?! By getting pregnant out of wedlock?! What will people say about us?!” 

A strangled cry escapes your lips as you’re thrown across the room, your mother following you with raised fists. 

She starts to slap at your face as you feebly try to cover your face. You look at your father who stares at you as your mother attacks you.

“Dad!” You cry out reaching out to him before being smacked in the face. 

He stays complacent, unwilling to help you, eyes showing no mercy.

And yet you desperately continue to call out to him, “dad-! Daddy!” Another shrill cry escapes you as your mother pulls on your hair. She drags you across the room livid out of her mind. 

“If you’re such a whore, I’ll treat you like one! I’m going to strip you naked in the streets so that everyone can see how you have disgraced yourself! You little bitch!” You cry out as she starts to rip at your clothes.

“No stop! Stop it!” The flowery blouse that William had gifted you tears under her harsh grip.

Cheeks flush in embarrassment as you cover your chest as she begins to rip at your skirt.

“STOP!” You screech as you sock her right in her face. She stumbles backwards silently, spitting out a tooth. You cover your mouth in shock, not meaning to hurt her so badly. 

The look she gives you is reminiscent of a wild animal as she lunges at you.

“THAT’S ENOUGH OUT OF YOU!” A bigger body covers you from the incoming attack, the familiar British accent you know rough with rage. 

William shoves the woman to the ground, his eyes screaming murder as he shakes with rage.

“How dare you attack my pregnant wife like that you stupid cunt!” He spits at her as grabs her by the neck, lifting her off the ground. She grabs at his neck as his grip tightens. 

Your mother’s predatory gaze shrivels up into prey as she starts to beg for him to let go. You’re still stunned from her attacks, cupping the bruises on your face. Your father finally intervenes to save your mother, successfully getting her out of Willliam’s deadly grip.

“You’re a disgrace of a mother and I never want you to come near us again.” He threatened, “or else I won’t hold back next time.” 

The older couple glanced at each other before silently walking away. Tails tucked between their legs. 

As he watches them walk away, he hears your silent sobs as you wobbly get up. 

He runs back to your side, hugging you in his arms. “It’s ok, I'm right here.” He picks you up in a princess carry, carrying you back to your house.

You’re too distraught to notice how he locks the door behind him and how his eyes hold a satisfied look.

Getting to your room, he places you on the bed gently before turning to your cloth drawers. He takes out one of his shirts (that he’s mildly surprised you still have some of his clothes) and turns to you. He gets you out of the ruined clothes and into the shirt that dwarfs you in size. 

“Sweety let me see.” He mumbles gripping your chin to see the extent of the bruises on your face. Your poor lovely face was ruined by the wretch. When he had sent the recording of your conversation about getting rid of his child, (for he recorded all of your messages and calls together, he always wanted to remember every word you shared.) he had sent the recording to your parents in the form of a tape. He was grateful for her parents being old fashioned, because they had made his plan of locking her in with him that much easier. They would disown her and she would have no one to turn to. He made sure of that by getting her kicked out of her college and the offer of that horrible dream school. He went a step further by going to her workplace and sending in her letter of renouncement. He had mimicked the way she wrote and forged her signature at the end of the letter. The manager had taken it as believable and n had packed up all her working supplies in a box for him. A box that he would dump in a trash can, she would no longer need it in her future with him. He made sure to visit all of her friends and tell them lies about how Y/N never liked them. He would venomously lie about how Y/N only was friends with them to take advantage of them. They were all disgusted and vowed to never talk to her again. She was completely alone.

And finally he took care of her planned abortion. He had called the place and put on his most pitiful acting. He had told them that the woman who planned it (his girlfriend) had decided to keep it and would be moving states with him pretty soon. Which was all a lie, but the overworked employer had only responded with a monotone “ok.” 

There was some truth to his lie, he did plan on taking her somewhere far away from her here. He would convince her that all those silly dreams she had were nothing and that she would be most happy as his housewife. 

He held her as she silently cried in his chest, the sick bastard taking advantage of her vulnerability by telling her that she was alone and her future was over. How no one else wanted her but him. He would protect her from all the bad if she just did this one little thing for him.

“Marry me and keep our child.” He had murmured in her ears, “if you do this, it will make me very happy.” She had been shocked out of mind, ripping herself away from him and staring at him with horrified eyes. 

“I-I can’t! I’m too young to marry and I don’t want to be a mother!” The warm look in his eyes immediately disappeared, making his onyx eyes even darker. 

“Then I will leave you like everyone else. Don’t you see? I’m all you have now, you won’t be able to get a stable job, you have no money, you have no friends, no parents. I’m. All. You.  Have.” He hissed out grabbing her by the cheeks and squishing them together. Her teary eyes welling up as she whimpered, his eyes softened for a fraction before they hardened again.

“If you don’t do this for me, I will leave you and you will never hear from me ever again.” Of course that was a complete lie, she had no choice but to marry him. He would have her as his, willingly or forcefully. He much preferred willingly but he had no problem taking her forcefully.

“Don’t go!” She cried out clinging onto him, his lips twitching into a smile for he knew he had won.

“I’ll marry you, I’ll keep this baby but please don’t leave me!” She cried out, “you’re all I have!” 

Once he knew she had accepted her place in his life, he had wrapped his arms around her. “Shh shh, that’s a good girl.” He reached into his pocket, taking out a small black box. He took her hand into his and slipped on the diamond ring on her ring finger. He placed a kiss on her hand as he cupped her face, “I will make you happy and you will never want for anything else when you’re with me.” 

He had forced his place in her life, making him an immovable force. After that day he had packed all her things into his truck and had carried her to it. He drove for days to their new home, one of his properties near the Fazbear establishment. He had been thinking of moving there for a while, thanks to the close distance but never did because he was dating Y/N. Now he had a good reason for that would be the place he would keep her and the baby safe.

When they made it to the house he had held her close to his chest. He placed both her hands on her stomach before giving her a kiss on the cheek. “You will not regret this.”

He had married her when she was eighteen and he was twenty seven. The wedding was a private matter with only his business partner Henry as a witness to the marriage.

William chose to ignore how Henry had stared wide eyed at how young his bride to be was. 

Instead he basked in the sight of his blushing bride who had looked at him with big e/c eyes as she said, “I do.”

The baby would be born in October and William felt that his life was complete. As his wife smiled at him tiredly from the harsh hours of labor. 

A baby boy with his tufts of black hair and rosy cheeks stared up at him. Unfortunately, he didn’t inherit his mother’s pretty e/c eyes but instead his plain black ones. His son was the spitting image of him, from his little nose to the shape of his mouth. The only thing he inherited from his mother was her skin color and the texture of her hair. 

William had only sighed internally, ‘oh well, the next one will look like her.’ 

He leaned down to place a kiss on his little forehead, his son’s black eyes widening before he started to cry out for his mother. 

His poor wife practically sat up despite the soreness of childbirth and reached out her hands. “Please give me back Michael.” 

He raised an eyebrow, before placing the weeping baby into her arms, “thought of a name already, have you?” 

She shyly smiled, “I really like the name Michael.”

The next years flew by fast. She accepted her role as his housewife and mother like he knew she would. He would come home from a long day at work to his lovely wife making dinner and his babbling son reaching for him from his high chair. He felt blissful in his new life, the Fazbear company was running along smoothly, he had a cute son and a cuter wife that he obsessed over. Other than a few disagreements with her over her going back to school (how he wished she would just give up) everything went by fine. 

He was able to convince her to give him two more children to add to their little family. This time around they looked like exact copies of his beautiful Y/N. The little boy, which he had named Evan, inherited those big e/c eyes he adored and he was an exact replica of his darling wife. Ever since Michael decided he was a big boy and that being babied by his dad (but not his mom) was not cool, William had defeatedly accepted that his days of cuddling his son were over. That was until Evan was born, who stared up at him with big e/c eyes. When William had kissed him on the forehead, the little boy had only looked back at him with wonder. In areas where Michael was a boisterous toddler that would wrestle his way out of William’s arms whenever he held him, Evan was the complete opposite. 

The sweet boy would coo at him and cuddle into his arms. He would be compliant whenever William bottle fed him. Anytime he would cry a quick reassuring word from his papa would make the tears go away. It was a bigger contrast to Michael who would throw full on tantrums and have meltdowns every other day. William would try to calm him down but would have to accept that the only way to calm him down was through the angel that was Y/N. If it was the rare day where he was left alone with his two sons, William would pray that Michael didn’t cry because he couldn’t do anything to appease him. With that William came to favor Evan more over Michael. He knew it was bad to choose favorites, but who could blame him? Michael was a little brat that took away most of the attention of Y/N and would cry whenever he didn’t get his way. Meanwhile William didn’t mind Evan taking up Y/N’s time, in his eyes Evan was just a smaller version of Y/N who could do no wrong. The little h/c haired boy had the sweetest smile reminiscent of his mother’s. His cold heart warmed a little every time he saw Evan running to him after a day at work. 

If Evan made William’s heart warm, then his little Elizabeth made his heart melt. The little girl was her mother all over again. From the pictures of his wife as a baby, the little baby girl was the spitting image. Just like with Evan, he would be a more active parent figure in her life. He would observe how Y/N would take care of her needs, from the little exercises the doctor recommended, to how Y/N would gently tie her little hairs into cute little hairstyles she would learn from the neighborhood housewives. 

Soon enough it would be him helping in brushing out her soft hair and tying them in pastel little bows. Her little excited squeals whenever he would play peek-a-boo made him die every time from adoration. He would spoil both Evan and Elizabeth in sweets and toys, giving them whatever they wanted. 

His possessiveness not only grew with his wife but it extended with his two younger children as well. So much so that he forced Evan to be homeschooled by a private tutor he had hired. He planned to do the same with Elizabeth when she started her schooling. Y/N had meekly argued that it was a necessary part of Evan’s development to be around more little kids his age. William had waved her off stating that he only needed his family. “Unless you want to have more children?” He had eyed her suggestively, she had shut down the idea, not wanting to get pregnant so soon after giving birth to her daughter. 

All of his love and devotion were centered around his wife and two younger children, that he completely neglected his oldest son. 

While Elizabeth and Evan were kept in the house, Michael was practically forced out. William put him in the public school’s kindergarten and Y/N along with his siblings would have to drop him off every morning. Those trips in the morning were more exciting compared to the boring school day he would have. On important days, Y/N would take them to McDonald’s to get them pancakes for breakfast. Even though William had forbide them from going there, for being direct competitors against Fazbear’s Pizzeria. Michael would be surrounded by the smiling faces of his mother, little brother, and baby sister. Every time he would be dropped off, he would whine when his mother would tell him to kiss her and his siblings goodbye. He would always be discreet and make sure none of his classmates would see him. He didn’t need them to make fun of him more than they already did. These loving moments between his mother and siblings would overshadow his depressing relationship with his father.

William would pick him up from school, but instead of the joyous smile his father would give his siblings, he would just grunt ‘how was school?‘ To which Michael would blandly remark, ‘good.’ For he knew that his father was completely uninterested in whatever he had to say.

Even at the young age of five, Michael had realized that he was unwanted by his father.

He never could understand why his father looked at him with indifference when he was practically wrapped around his younger siblings’ fingers. Michael had wondered that if he had the same eye and hair color of his siblings, if his father would have loved him more. If he looked more like his mother would his father give him the time of day? Y/N, aware of the unfair treatment that his son was facing from his father, doubled down on her parenting. In areas where William would ignore Michael whenever he was at home, Y/N made sure to reach out towards him and ask him how he was feeling. She would spoil him by making his favorite foods and desserts. Whenever she would wake up to his small sniffling in the night, she would leave the tight grip of her husband and enter his room. Each and every time she would hold him and calm him down. Whether it would be a nightmare or his sadness from being alone at school or the absence of his father, she wouldn’t leave until he calmed down. Sometimes he would bury himself in the comfort of his mother’s embrace and ask her to not leave until he falls asleep. Half-asleep already, Y/N would mumble an agreement before drifting off to sleep as well.

It would not be until the morning where she would be shaken awake by William. His face pulled into a frown as he stared disapprovingly of her leaving their bed. 

Now sure they had their disagreements. Originally they were around his refusal to let her go back to college but those ended when Y/N had given up. Now they were centered around Michael.

“The teacher said he got into a fight today.” Y/N had mentioned as she folded her children’s clothes, “she says he’s been having issues with getting along with the other children. He always spends his time alone at school.” 

William had just shrugged off her concerns, “Y/N kids fight. It’s a normal part of life and sometimes the violent response is the better option. As for the no friends part- Just look at me! I didn’t have any friends all my schooling years and I turned out fine! Doesn’t sound like anything bad to me.” 

Y/N looked at him bewildered, “William I’m sorry you had to experience that but he’s a little boy! I don’t want him to get into fights or be alone all the time…”

William just sighed, “well you’re a better mother than my mum was if you think that way..” 

Her pretty e/c eyes nervously looked down at the folded pile, the way she bit her lip was the signal that she was about to say something that William wasn’t going to like. 

“Listen, the school semester just started and it’s not too late to enroll Evan..”

William’s neutral expression turned into a scowl.  “We are not going to enroll Evan in a public school. He’s doing just fine in homeschooling.” 

Y/N shook her head as she turned her attention to him, her e/c eyes filled with an unyielding determination.

“His tutor retired and hiring another one is a bigger hassle than simply enrolling him in the public school. Besides, Michael won’t be alone anymore and he’d at least have his brother with him at school.”

“No,” William glowered, “Evan will not go to school. I will find him another bloody tutor even if it costs me more. My word is final.” 

It would seem that William had gotten soft on her over the years for she didn’t submit to his demands as easily as she used to.

“Every time we drop Michael off at school, Evan’s always asks when he will get to go there. Don’t you see, William? Evan wants to go to school and he wants to play with the other children. He misses his brother all day long and he’s bored out of his mind with just the tutor! A little boy shouldn’t be trapped in a house and Lord knows I can’t entertain him all the time! My hands are full with Elizabeth. He deserves to have fun all the time instead of short periods of time when Elizabeth takes her naps!” She takes a deep inhale of air from her outburst before calming down.

William’s stares shocked her. His previous ire melting away to guilt. He hadn’t realized how his decision to keep Evan at home caused bigger issues. Just imagining his poor boy bored out of his mind and his sweet Y/N trying her best to maintain both he and his sister at the same time. He hadn't realized this for he was at work all the time.

“Fine.” William grumbled, “you can enroll him in school.”

Y/N let out a sigh of relief, thinking she had to beg on her knees to get him to agree.

“Thank you,” she says leaning in to give him a kiss on the lips.

He leaned in, grabbing at her hips, squeezing the plentiful flesh. Many men say that pregnancy ruins their wives, but William wholeheartedly disagrees. Not only did she give him two beautiful children and Michael, but her figure had also drastically changed.

Her once thin body had flourished with the pregnancy weight. Her hips had gotten wider which he always grabbed to pull her close to him. She had a cute little tummy that he would squeeze whenever she was cooking. She would always squeal and hit him out of embarrassment but he would only kiss her cheek. Not to mention her thighs were so pillowy and soft. Oftentimes William would daydream at work about said thighs. Of having her thighs wrapped around his head as he went to town on her sweet cunt. 

Her ass and breasts had gotten larger, enough of the times he would smack her on the ass whenever she would be bent down helping Michael with his homework. She would glare at him while he gave her a mischievous look.

Not to mention the beautiful rack of tits she possessed. After a long day at work, he felt that it was worth it if it meant he could bury his face between her breasts. He loved to fondle them between his large hands, knowing there would be plenty of soft flesh for him to grab.

She would always whine at him to be gentle for she didn’t want to accidentally lactate. ‘It’s so embarrassing,’ she would hitch out between moans as he squeezed her breasts. Between the rough pounding of his hips against hers, she would squirm away from his kisses that would tickle her neck all the way to her chest. He would never suck on her nipples but he would suck hickies all over her breasts. Small bruises littering her heaving breasts as she cried out as he played with her little clit. The intense rubbing of his fingers on the bundle of nerves, his kisses on her chest, and the harsh thrusts he would deliver to her weeping core had her crying out as she orgasmed. 

Her warm insides would clench on his member, so tightly enough for him groan as he released inside her. Their soft panting is the only sound in the room. He would lean in to kiss her on the lips, tongue sneaking into her panting mouth as she reciprocated the kiss. 

Just like now as she leans away from the kiss.

“Thank you William.” She softly smiled as she walked away to get started on dinner. He stares mesmerized by the swaying of her hips. He made a mental note to hire a babysitter soon. One that could take the children away for a day or two so that he could make himself home in her warm cunt. It’s been a while since they last made love, they were too busy with the children and the stress of keeping quiet to keep their children in the unknown. He swore that the minute they were out of the house he was going to rip her from her clothes and start fucking her where ever they were at. It didn’t matter if they were at the entrance of the house or the kitchen. He was going to batter her pussy so good that she would be crying out in overstimulation. It had been a while since he had overstimulated her, he couldn’t wait to hear her cry out for him to give her a break from their love making. He would have fucked her in so many positions, Full Nelson, Doggstyle, you name it. When she’s beg for him to stop pounding into her sensitive cunt, he’d only respond by locking her in a mating press that would definitely guarantee her getting pregnant with his fourth child-

He needed to hire a babysitter as soon as possible.

The day of Evan’ first day of school was unlike no other. You had taken the children to McDonalds as per tradition. You sipped on your hot coffee as you watched Evan fidget from the corner of your eye. He had been so excited to finally attend a school where there would be many children his age. He had talked about it non stop these past days, going on to annoy his older brother with his questions. “It’s not as great as you think it is,” Michael grumbled out. His negative commentary was ignored by Evan running around the house with stars in his eyes.

That excited energy he had leading up to his first day of school had vanished when he got onto the drive there.

Now he nervously fidgeted with the toy he got from the happy meal. Anxiously awaiting for the ride to be over. When you had parked the car in the parking lot you turned around to give him a warm smile. The sweet boy only smiled nervously back, as he glanced at the many kids who were already walking in with their parents. Michael had told you beforehand he felt embarrassed walking in with Evan on his first day, so you gave him the go ahead to walk in first.  He had quickly kissed your cheek and leaned in the back seat to kiss Elizabeth’s chubby cheek. She let out a giggle as she cooed at him. His black eyes softened for a moment before his eyes turned to Evan. He gave him a quick nod which the smaller boy reciprocated. He hopped out of the car with a “see you later.” Being in second grade he already was familiar with his school and felt confident enough to walk alone. 

Evan watched after him owlishly, impressed by how cool his older brother looked walking without any of their parents. He wanted to be just like him. 

“Evan.” You softly say, his big e/c eyes snap back onto your own. His worried little face 

reminded you of how you felt when it was your first day of school. You nostalgically remember how your mother had forced you into an uncomfortable dress and had pulled your hair into a tight ponytail. You remember how your parents had just left you in front of the school before driving off. You were lost on your first day and arrived late to your classroom. The teacher had grabbed your hand tightly and had pulled out a ruler to smack your arm red and raw. You remember the humiliation as the other children laughed at you as tears ran down your chubby cheeks.

Suddenly Evan’s not the only anxious person in the car as you start to worry about him. Was this a good idea? Should you have just let William find him another tutor so that he can continue being homeschooled? What if the other children started to bully him? What if one of the teachers hit him? The times were different now where teachers weren’t allowed to hit their students. But Lord help you, you may not be able to fight any little kids, but you would jump on any teacher who even thought about hurting your baby. 

“Mama.” His soft voice echoed in the car, “I think I’m ready.” His determined e/c eyes that reminded you so  much of your own. Your anxieties melted away once you realized how he was trying his best to remain brave. Even if he was anxious, he was pushing through to be able to go to school. If he was willing to go through with it, then so were you.

“Ok, give mama a quick second to get your sister out of her seat.”

You pushed Elizabeth in her stroller as you walked onto the elementary school. Evan clung onto your dress as his big eyes took in the sights around him. He resembled a scared little rabbit as he watched the many boisterous children running around in the play area and the swarms of them everywhere.

You knew it would be hard for him to adjust to a new environment. He was going from only seeing his family to the many children and new faces at the school. Many people stopped to watch as the pretty lady and her equally pretty children walked on campus. All of them were allured by their soft looking h/c hair and dazzling e/c eyes. Noticing how people were staring at him, Evan hid his head in your dress as you walked. You let out a chuckle, used to the attention you would receive when you would go anywhere with your children. There was a reason William was possessive of you three and kept you all close to him. Even before you were married to him, he was conscious of the many people who would ogle you shamelessly and only stop when he would give them a death glare. 

Once you made it to his classroom, you had already spotted the kindergarten teacher who taught Michael when he first started kindergarten. Next to her a lady holding a clipboard was giving passing children a strained grin. Her smile seemed to tighten as she saw you three approaching. “This must be Evan Afton! How are you, little man?” Evan’s teacher grinned at him. Evan shyly smiled, mumbling a  “good, thank you.” 

The kind man looked at you, “I’ll be getting him settled in while you fill out the paperwork with Mrs. Priscilla over here.” The woman gives you a nod of acknowledgement. “Alright Evan, I’ll be leaving you here with your teacher. Remember that if you need anything, just ask him to call me and I’ll be here as soon as I can. You’ll be able to find Michael during break time.” You got done on one knee, bringing him to your chest. You leave a smooch on his cheek that makes him blush from embarrassment as other children start to get in the classroom, “remember I love you and I hope you have fun on your first day here! Ok?” He nods embarrassed, already pulling away from you. His teacher chuckles at his behavior, “alright kiddo, I have to introduce you to the class!” 

As he takes your son to his class, he looks back at you unsure. You give him a reassuring smile and a thumbs up that makes him reciprocate the gesture. 

Even if he looked to be in good hands, you can’t help but let out a wavering breath, the small part in you worrying that something bad will happen to him. Then again, you felt the same nervous feeling dropping off Michael in preschool, in kindergarten, in first grade, and in second grade. 

The nerves would probably never go away, but they would get easier with time. 

The lady next to you calls for your attention, “right this way miss.” You had forgotten she was there, you follow after her into the office.

Once you're done filling out the information for Evan you hand the information to the lady. She gives you a tight lipped smile, “thank you for filling this out. I’ll be sure to put it into the system for it to be easier to register him in for the next few years.”

She begins to type into her computer, as you walk out with Elizabeth. 

She stops for a second before she calls out again, “and please tell your father to park his car before picking up his son. It’s dangerous for Michael to be getting in his car in the middle of a busy street.” You stop in your tracks confused at her words, “my father?”

The last you’ve heard of your father was through your mother calling you and telling you of his death. She had blamed you for his demise claiming that the stress of having a whore as a daughter had shortened his life span. You had only blocked her number from contacting you again.

So it was understandable to say you were confused on how your deceased father would be able to pick up your son from school when his dead body was buried a couple of states over. 

She glanced from her computer, pulling down her glasses. “William Afton?” She said  questionly.

You almost gasped out loud from the misunderstanding. All you could do is stand there, gaping at her as she looked puzzled from your shock.

There was no way from the times you’ve called and interacted with the school that they had assumed William was your father. 

Even though there was almost a decade age difference, he was too young to even be considered your father. He didn’t even look like he could be your father! 

“I’m sorry there seems to be a misunderstanding!” You tell her, “William Afton isn’t my father, he’s my husband!”

The look of horror on her face made you feel self conscious as she quickly opened a bin of files. After shifting through them, she pulls out one file where she quickly shifts through it.  Once she pulls out a sheet of paper that you assume is the list of your phone number and William’s phone number that she gasps out. Her eyes horrified at seeing your name highlighted as the mother of Michael and Evan. She had assumed you were nothing but a sister to the little boys.

You almost bury your face in your hands from embarrassment when she gives you a pitied look, “my apologies…I assumed you were a cousin or a sister to the little boys.”

(Translation: She lets out a scream, “you’re married to that piece of shit?!” ) 

“It’s alright..” you say, gripping the stroller as Elizabeth begins to squirm, wanting to get out and stretch out her legs. 

As you leave, you can hear her whisper, "poor woman.” 

#tw.yandere #yandere x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #william afton x female reader #william afton x reader #william afton #reader insert #fem reader #pregnancy

[theletterstohogwarts]

The Slytherin Prince

Author: Letters to Hogwarts

Summary: Draco Malfoy overhears an argument between you and Harry, much to his surprise.

Main Character(s): Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley

The shimmering mother-of-pearl brilliance of the Amortentia was powerful enough to attract the attention of several students, who seemed to be mesmerised by the swirling steam that was emanating from the potion. With a word of caution, the professor gently places the lid back onto the cauldron, in the hopes that it will discourage the young witches and wizards from following through with their temptations.

A sudden thud from the wooden oak door distracts the students from the allure of the concoction, as the unmistakable shade of vibrant red hair allows you to recognise the Weasley who had reluctantly entered the room, followed by Harry Potter.

“What are they doing here,” you sigh. The unexpected remark is met with an intrigued gaze from Draco Malfoy as a formidable silence inundates the room. The evident intensity swirling in his iridescent eyes, reminiscent of brewing clouds in a thunderstorm, strikes you as curious and yet, rather odd before turning your attention back to Professor Slughorn.

⋆    ⋆     ⋆     ⋆     ⋆

Students begin to gather around Harry’s cauldron, as you watch the leaf come into contact with the crystal clear liquid and burst into flames. “Merlin’s beard, Harry! It’s perfect,” admires the professor before awarding him with the prized possession, a liquid resembling molten gold. “As promised, one phial of Felix Felicis.”

Immediately, the entire room erupts into a vociferous roar, as students begin congratulating the boy who lived. Watching him indulge in all the glory, a quiet sigh falls from your lips as you admit defeat. Setting your wand aside, you observe the cauldron in your proximity prior to glancing at the depths of your own potion; watching the viscous liquid effervesce. Alas, it looked not at all as it ought to, nowhere near as perfect as Harry’s and as a result, you couldn’t help but hold an unequivocal resentment towards the boy.

“You cheated.” Fortuitously, the bitter words drip from your tongue like venom, as you avoid Harry’s perplexed stare.

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t even like potions.” Your tone was a little more vicious than you intended, as you thrust your potions book into your bag. Turning towards him, he catches a glimpse of your unfailingly deep and velvety chestnut eyes, melting into golden lagoons of honey and conflagrant with animosity. “I mean, you actually failed Snape’s class last year and yet, here you are... exactly how did you manage to brew a perfect Draught of Living Death?”

“I don’t know...” he lied, delicately hiding his copy of Advanced Potion Making behind himself. “Maybe I just got lucky.”

“You don’t get lucky in potions, Harry. Potions requires skill and a methodical approach, otherwise, things go wrong. Just take a look at Seamus, he’s constantly blowing things up because he can’t follow a simple set of instructions!”

“I think you’re just jealous.” Says Ron, joining the conversation.

“Oh, not at all. I’m just frustrated because my talent in this class is getting overlooked just because Professor Slughorn’s practically in love with him!” You shout, pointing to the dark haired boy.

“You know, I didn’t ask for any of this...” The tone in his voice compliments your bitterness as he starts packing his potions kit, a sigh falling from his lips.

“Harry...” you whisper, voice laced with contrition.

“I’ll see you later,” he mumbles before storming out the door, closely followed by Ron.

A soft sigh falls from your lips as you allow yourself to continue packing your belongings, the sound of bubbling cauldrons echoing quietly throughout the gloomy dungeon. Grabbing your wand, you begin to make your way towards the wooden oak doors before the sight of a rich, emerald green robe, embellished with lustrous silver embroidery, piques your interest.

“Malfoy.”

The boy in question, a pure-blood wizard, was leaning against the wall in a nonchalant manner; his platinum, silver hair slicked back and an aura of superiority surrounding him.

“A little spiteful, are we?” He drawls, taking a bite from a crisp green apple. You meet his intense gaze, those opalescent pale blue eyes lingering on yours, as he struts his way towards you. “I bet you wanted it.” He says, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “That liquid luck.”

“Oh please... you look like you need it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You have a good heart, Draco...” The melodious sound of his name, dripping from your lips like honey, catches him by surprise. “Even if you don’t see it yourself. But you have a certain reputation to uphold as a Malfoy, and that notoriety means being obedient to Lord Voldemort.” A quiet sigh falls from your lips. “Just be careful.”

#harry potter imagines #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader #ron weasley #ron weasley x reader

[moonlight-starlight-lady01]

[Warnings: cussing, planning to manipulate, bullies, harassment, that's pretty much it]

(A/n: Sorry, I've been inactive, but now im gonna write on this blog. Im just gonna write invader zim shit and other stuff made by that creator.)

"Hey y/n, i got a dare for you!" One of the dumb popular girls yelled out loud to you at the lunch table.

"What is it. Im all ears!" You yelled back. Not wanting to look like a coward to your friends you agreed to it.

"I dare you to hook up with a cringe lame ass boy in this school and then break their heart after." She said confidence running through her.

"Sure, anymore details?" You asked, not gonna lie you wished you hadn't agreed. That's fucking mean. Who would even think of that.

"Ok so. Heres the plan, you get with a boy at this school. Make them fall in love with you. Then ask them out to the dance next month, and right when they announce king and queen were going to dump shit all over him then take pictures. Then after were going to post it on every single social media platform there is." The dumb girl said with a mean glint in her eye.

This made you think for a second. This was cruel. Mean. Why would you have fun doing this. But, you dont want to look like a coward to your popular friends.

The dumb girl smirked and looked around the cafeteria. She had looked for a bit and gasped with her eyes widening. She then went by you and whispered in your ear. "I know who you're going to prank."

"Oooo, who will i be pranking then?" You said with a fake smirk on your face.

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"Dib membrane."

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Dib membrane?! The kid believes in aliens and ghosts and paranormal shit. The kid that is the son of the professor membrane! Sure, nobody really liked him. BUT, of all people, the son of Professor Membrane! Does this girl want you to die in real life? What would happen if he gets pranked tells his father, and then his father fires your dad from working there. Then you would have no money. Your mom and dad would lose your home, and then you would be homeless. Then you would be-

"EARTH TO Y/N! Hello! Earth to y/n!!!!"

"Huh, wha-"

"So, you want to prank him or not?" The mean girl spoke with pure venom in her voice.

This was bad. You should have said no. You should have just not skipped detention. You looked at the mean girl and then sighed.

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"When do i start?"

It was the end of the day, and everyone was leaving the "hi-skool." You planned on finding Dib at his Locker, then walk home with him. You live in the same exact neighborhood he does. You're basically his neighbor. But guilt filled your gut. This was gonna be mean. But you have to. Dont look like a coward, is what you say to yourself all the time now.

Going around the corner in the hallway, you see Dib at his locker fidgeting with something. You slowly walk up to him. He didn't even realize you were there until you cleared your throat.

He looked up to you in surprise. His eyes widened a bit in shock that a popular girl was right there by him.

You finally got to see his full face. He had his signature round glasses on, but he has piercings in his ears. Some pimples hear and there. You also noticed that he painted his fingernails black.

"Hey, there!" You said with a big grin. Trying to be the most welcoming you have ever been. But, he just stared at you in confusion.

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"Hey....?"

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Woah, you forgot that Dib is maturing. Since when did his voice not sound like a kid anymore?! You asked yourself in your thoughts. Of course, you guys were in the 12th grade. But like damn.

"Isn't your name Dib?" You said, pouting your lips out to look cute. And then, using your fingers to fidget with your long h/c that was tied up in a high pony tail.

He looked at you like you were crazy. "Yea..?" He said, confused, then he grabbed his books and shoved them in his backpack, and started to walk off.

This made you panic. Was he not into you?! You had to think and fast before he left the school.

He stared at you and said; "Look if you're trying to make fun of me, just dont ok. I know your little popular group of fake friends is around here somewhere!"

"Uh, so! What are you doing after school?" You asked, running up to him and starting to walk with him.

Actually, none of your friends were here they were at cheer practice. "Nooo, i just wanted to know what you were doing after school." You said, still fidgeting with your hair. Plus, all of my friends are at cheer practice"

He gave you a skeptical look. But, sighed. "I was going to go home." He said with slight annoyance, stirring in his voice.

"Oooo, me too. We live in the same neighborhood, we can walk together!" You said smiling again and then grabbing your purse strap.

You could tell Dib didn't want to walk with you. But, luckily, gaz walked with Dib, so he didn't talk much, nor did Gaz. But you had a trick up your sleeve.

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"Hey, is that a piggy slave game?"

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Gaz eyes widened in shock. "You know the piggy slave games?" She asked in all honesty.

"I sure do. I have 'piggy of destruction 1' and 'piggy of slaves 2' AND 'piggy of the bacon clan 3'.-" you looked around to see if anyone was listening."-i even have the 'ultimate piggy slave'."

Gaz face turned in surprise. The ultimate piggy slave was so rare to have.

Meanwhile, you and Gaz were talking. Dib was staring at you in suspension again. 'One of the popular girls is here trying to talk to Gaz and me. This is definitely Zim's doing.' Dib thought to himself.

"So, Dib, what's ya got there?" You asked, going right beside him and looking at the weird device in his hands. It looked like a controller that would control a remote car. But it had a scanner on the front, and it kept beeping. Weird symbols that you didn't recognize popped up on the little rectangle green-ish screen.

"Oh, u-uh. It's a ghost reader. It can detect ghosts and spirits. Most of the time." Dib said in a teaching tone. He was suspicious of yours, but he would never miss a moment to teach someone about the paranormal, let alone give him their attention.....

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"WOW, that's cool!" You said, looking at the device with a big grin. Dib was shocked. He was ready for a smart ass remark. Or a "ghosts aren't real."

"R-really?" Dib said in shock. "You mean it?"

"Well, duh, of course. I've seen them." To this statement, Dib eyes widened, and he went right in your face and said.

"YOU HAVE?!" After that, Dib was barbonding you with questions. 'How old were you?' And 'what did it look like?' And 'were was it at?', Ect.

You thought it would be hard for him to open up to you and actually talk to you, but you thought wrong because now you have his number and Gaz. You made a mental note later to text him.

The walk to your guys neighborhood was short from Dib talking and rambling.

After walking with them up to their home. You stopped at the fence.

"Well, that was fun. I will see you guys tomorrow?" After a pause, you saw them nodding. "Well, then goodbye, Gaz! Goodbye Dib~." You said, making sure the Dib part sounded flirtatious. You could see a pink dust fall gently on his cheeks as you turned and walked along the sidewalk to your house.

Hopefully, you could get this done before the dance.

#donnie x reader #x reader #leo x reader #mikey x reader #2012 donnie #kyle broflovski x reader #mutant mayhem leo #brahms heelshire x reader #bakugou x reader #sam monroe x reader #dib membrane x reader #dib x reader #dib membrane #invader zim x reader #invader zim #gaz membrane #gaz #fypage #tumblr fyp #fypシ #fypツ #fyp #professor membrane #barbarian bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #barbarian bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou

[enby-crisis]

Blind Loyalty Pt 1 Ominis Gaunt x Reader

Whispers in The Halls

Summary: Its the first day back at Hogwarts and everyone is talking about the new student in Slytherin. Y/n and Ominis have their first encounter with the fifth year and it already causes some mistrust to stir up.

Word Count: 1352

Warnings: None yet. This is about Professor Black's niece and follows the HL timeline.

A/n: I think this is terrible so we'll see if it gets a second part. Also!! This is not proof read so if you see mistakes lmk. Thank you.

You sat in between Ominis and Imelda, Sebastian on her other side. You weren't quite sure why you were all still sat in the Great Hall. But when you looked up at the professors, Professor Black was strictly talking to Professor Weasley.

"What on earth are we still doing here?" Ominis complains.

"I haven't a clue. Black seems to be upset with Professor Weasley though." You say absentmindedly, trying to think of what could have enraged your uncle this much.

"Maybe he found a troll in the dungeons." Sebastian jests from across the table.

"Seriously? I have flying first thing in the morning. I need to polish my broom!" Imelda complained.

"Please Imelda. Everyone knows you're the best flyer at school." You say with the intent to get her to stop complaining.

Just as she was about to complain further all four of you whipped your heads to the entrance to the Great Hall.

Professor Black walks back toward the Sorting Hat with an older student trailing behind him. They seem disheveled and breathing hard, either from the nerves or the stairs you cant tell.

Ominis picks up on the chatter, "What? What is it?" 

"Some new student, Min. But they look like our age. I hope they don't get sorted in our house. They look like trouble." You glance at Ominis, who nods but faces forward again. Something he does when he's trying to use his other sense better.

"Don't say that (Y/n). A new student could be a fun distraction from Anne." Sebastian says, not even looking at you and Ominis, who is also annoyed by his remark about his sick sister.

"Nobody can replace Anne." Ominis says, venom dripping in his tone.

"I'm not saying they will, I'm saying maybe it'd be good for us to find trouble elsewhere." Sebastian defends.

"Can you three put a sock in it? I'm trying to hear!" Imelda interrupts before you could give your input on the whole situation.

"Slytherin!"

"Oh bloody hell!" You curse under your breath.

"Language!" Ominis smacks your sleeve and you give a surprised yelp.

"Awe look at that the two lovebirds are fighting like their already married."

This comment elicited a glare from both you and Ominis. Both of you being from two vary powerful pureblood families and in the same house, its no surprise you ended up as friends. Your uncle, Phineas Black was headmaster at Hogwarts. As for Ominis, well his father was a direct descendant of Slytherin, weather Ominis wanted to accept that or not.

Ominis and you met first year. He was there for you when your mother went off the rails after your father died and married a muggle. After that you started to live with your uncle and his wife and their three sons. You and Sebastian were around for the falling out Ominis had with his parents. The three of you were always there for each other.  This time though, with Sebastian going through his own family crisis, he doesn't seem to be even acknowledging that this is the first year ever that the group is a member short.

You seethed at him, "We're not together."

After Professor Black announce no Quidditch this year, you knew that the walk back to the common room would be filled with grumbling from both Sebastian and Imelda.

"He dared to cancel Quidditch this year? What am I going to do!" Imelda started, the second you four left the Great Hall.

"Maybe you can race people. That way I can still watch people fall off their brooms!" Sebastian suggest.

Both you and Ominis took slow steps away from them. 

"I cant believe that new kid was sorted with us. I don't know how to explain it Ominis but I have a bad feeling about them." "Oh please (Y/n). You mustn't be so pessimistic. I'm sure their a great person."

"You see the irony in you calling me a pessimist right?" You giggle.

He rolls his eyes, thinking of something snarky to say but you quickly grab his shoulder to stop him.

"I'm tired Ominis. Good night. Make sure Seb doesn't get expelled on the first day."

"This is far from over Black!" He shouts as you descend the stairs to your dorm.

--------

In the morning you sit on the floor next to Ominis, who leans against the wall next to the windows under the Black Lake. He has been teasing the first years all morning.

"If you look hard enough you can see a mermaid in the Black Lake." He told two siblings, who were particularly drawn to the window this morning.

"Ominis-" You start to scold him but the new fifth year interrupts you.

Ominis stands to address the new student, but you simply shift further into the wall, wanting nothing to do with this conversation.

"Ah based on all the chatter going around the common room, I'm guessing you must be the new fifth year. I'm Ominis. Ominis Gaunt. And this little ray of Sunshine is (Y/n) Black." Ominis points to you on the floor and you scoff so he can hear your displeasure.

"Nice to meet you Ominis." They greet.

"Well you certainly had a memorable arrival." He teased.

The rumors about the dragon attack speak like wild fire in the 12 hours before this conversation. You were the one to have told Ominis, since you actually bunk with the new fifth year.

"Well if I'm going to make my mark here, I had to start right away." They brag. You just roll your eyes.

Ominis gives a surprised laugh, "You are defiantly in the right house. Do let me know if there is anything I can do to help you navigate your first days here, though I doubt you'll have any trouble." 

"Did you expect to be put into Slytherin?" They question.

"What is this? An interview of anyone whos remotely famous around here?" You mutter under your breath. Just loud enough for him to hear you.

Ominis gives a nervous laugh, trying to be more polite then you, "Of course. My family on my fathers side are direct descendants of Salthazar Slytherin himself. Not something I am especially proud of mind you. " He pauses, and turns his head towards you. "As for (Y/n), well they too have a lasting relationship with the house. But both of our families are obsessed with blood status so it's a topic we both try to avoid."

The student looks at you on the floor. You continue to wear a blank expression and look from the window to Ominis then back out the window, bored.

"Yes well urm- did that boy say he heard a mermaid?" They point out the window.

"Oh yes. But I've never heard of a mermaid showing up outside our common room window."

The two first years grumble in disappointment before heading off to their first class.

"Him and Seb like to tease the first years." You butt in, earning you a foot to your knee for interrupting him.

"It is fun to play along though. Know to keep some first years on the look out for hours."

"Thank you Ominis. it was night to meet the pair of you." The fifth year walk off to Sebastian.

Ominis leans back against the wall. "Okay I see what you mean."

"Yeah." You scoff. "They practically jumped at the opportunity to ask you about your house. Why did you have to tell them about out lineage? We both agreed not to bring it up unless we have to."

"I wanted them to know that we have connections, in case they start to get the wrong idea."

You stand up from your spot, facing him head on, even if he is nearly a foot taller then you now, "And if your new best friend starts asking about the Chamber or the locket?"

"They won't." Ominis says confidently.

"And if Sebastian tells them?" You gauge his reaction. The shock at the idea of it being Sebastian who tells people about what Ominis might know about Hogwarts shows on his now paler face.

"I- he wouldn't. He has been my best friend longer than you have. He would not go behind my back like that." He shutters at the idea.

"If you say so Min. I'm going to breaky. You do what you must." And with that you walk away to go meet Poppy and Natty in the Great Hall.

#ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x you #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #anne sallow #imelda reyes #poppy sweeting #natty onai

[pisspope]

Free Radicals

zeke yaeger x reader

word count: 1.0k

cw: afab!/fem! reader, reader gets called princess, baby, beautiful, vaginal sex, mentions of oral sex (f! receiving), dirty talk, praise kink

When you had started dating zeke in earnest, you knew that him meeting your parents was an inevitability. You knew they would fall for the whole charismatic nutty professor look hook, line, and sinker, would go absolutely mushy over his dry wit and piercing eyes. It would be an easy visit, casual and comfortable.

And all Zeke had to do was keep his mouth shut when pleasant dinner table banter turned to politics. Because as kind as they could be to you and your potential suitors, when it came to politics they were, well...

"Fucking troglodytes," Zeke hissed out, pistoning into you with reckless abandon. "Can't believe pussy this good came out of that fetid fucking womb."

You groan into the motel room pillow despite yourself, drowning in the venom that drips from his every word. He grips your hip tightly with one hand, the other bringing a half-finished cigarette to his lips. His two biggest vices held close, possessive.

"Who do they think they are, talking to you, talking to me like that, a fucking guest? Jesus H. Christ..." He grunts through a clouded mouth, too pissed and too busy fucking you to breathe out properly. "Speaking of, when's the last time they read a goddamn book? Besides the Bible, I mean."

It's a rhetorical question, of course. Because Zeke has a third vice, one he can't hold in the palm of his hand: bitching.

He moves to rub what's left of the cigarette out on the bedside ashtray, grips you tighter with his other hand to make sure he doesn't pull out of you in the process. You arch your back higher from the feeling of it, assured in the knowledge that there will be five fingerprint bruises on you by morning. The heady tobacco scent envelops and surrounds you, every breath of secondhand smoke coating your insides in soot. Every part of you, every muscle, bone, and nerve ending, stained with him.

"Fuckkkkkk, you feel so good, baby," he moans out, bringing his now free hand to the back of your head, tugging hard at the base of your skull so you're forced to look at him. And what a sight he is, chest heaving and red, mouth agape, wiry blond beard sticking up in all directions. He's a vision, a goddamn Adonis, not that you'd ever let him know that. He'd never let you live it down.

"Think they know? Think they know that the second they kicked us out they were sending you to this?" He's practically babbling now, but his enunciation is still so clear, so performative. He wants you to hear every word.

"Their poor little princess, banished to the sleazy motel to be fucked senseless by her evil heretical lover. I hope it makes them sick."

He slams his hand to your neck, twists your head just enough so he can catch your lips in a hungry kiss, groans falling from his throat as he tastes you. You accept everything he gives you, relishing in the knowledge that you belong to him so fully.

"You're mine. All mine."

It isn't long after that his thrusts become erratic, both hands now clenched around your waist to hold himself steady. The room is bathed in the sound of your sex, of the wet slap of him sheathing himself so deep in you, of his own low groans and curses, of the musty old mattress squeaking in protest. It pushes Zeke's senses into overload, and he chokes out your name, your only warning before he pulls out and coats you in his white hot release.

He crashes, hard, pushes you onto your back so he can fall onto the pillow of your breasts. You whine, still unfinished and disgusted by the sheets clinging to the cum painted across your back, but you give in. This is how it goes with Zeke when he gets frustrated, gets into a situation that he can't talk his way out of. Usually, walking out and having a smoke is enough to take the edge off, but sometimes he needs something more. Sometimes that more is a quick trip to the backseat of his car, legs pulled over your head so he can tongue fuck you until his beard glistens. But other times it's like this, where more is him throwing you onto a mattress and abusing your cunt, venting his stress 9 inches in.

And really, you don't mind it, because you know he needs it, and it brings you joy to know that you're the one giving it to him. Plus, once he's really come down, once he's stopped waging war behind his eyes, he always, always pulls you close and returns the favor. It's beyond intimate; exhaustion paints his eyes as he ruts into you, slow and steady, be it with fingers or his overstimulated cock, his own orgasm all but forgotten as he watches you come undone beneath him. When you finally relent, clenching and quivering around him, he pulls out agonizingly slow, presses a kiss to your forehead, and tells you every sweet nothing that materializes within him.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, consciousness already wavering. "Look so pretty, cumming all over me like that."

It's... not poetry, but you never doubt that he means what he says. Frankly, if he came at you with Keats or Frost you'd think he was dying. So you take the meager compliments his jaded heart can muster, and know that he's trying for you. Only for you.

"It's a shame about my parents, though," you muse, and he huffs in affirmation. "I really wanted you to fuck me in my childhood bedroom, ynow?"

He chuckles, a throaty staccato that still manages to make your stomach flip. "Oh, I'm corrupting you, aren't I? When we met you wouldn't have even thought of something like that."

You hum, pretending to think about it. You're glad he's back to normal, jovial despite the circumstances. "Maybe I just wouldn't have said it out loud. You don't exactly have a monopoly on lewd thoughts, Zeke."

"Hmm," he turns to his side, gazes at you through heavy-lidded eyes. He'll be asleep within the minute.

"I'll see what I can do."

And if he's all apologies and sincerity tomorrow, showing up at your parents' doorstep with flowers and a handwritten note, well. Who's to say what caused such a radical change of heart?

#zeke yaeger x you #zeke yaeger x reader #zeke yaeger #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #cat thots #filth tag

[tillywunderwing]

Old Bill Cipher was hopping around

Tumblr City like a big playground

When suddenly Megamind burst from the shade

And hit Bill Cipher with a Mindgrenade

Bill Cipher got pissed and began to attack

But didn't expect to be blocked by Black Hat

Who proceeded to open up a can of Hat-Fu

When Lewis Pepper came out of the blue

And he started beating up Blackquille Hat’neal

Then they both got flattened by the Mindmobile

But before it could make it back to the Mindcave

Jack Skellington popped out of his grave

And took an AK-47 out from under his hat

And blew Megamind away with a rat-a-tat-tat

But he ran out of bullets and he ran away

Because Herobrine came to save the day

This is the ultimate showdown of sexyman destiny

Objects and twinks and explosions as far as the eye can see

And only one will survive, I wonder who it will be

This is the ultimate showdown of sexyman destiny

Bill Cipher took a bite out of Herobrine

Like The Warden took a bite out of crime

And then Black Hat came back covered in a tire track

But Slenderman jumped out and landed on his back

And Megamind was injured, and trying to get steady

When Jack Skellington came back with a machete

But suddenly something caught his leg and he slowed

Nagito Komaeda took him out with his hope

Then he saw Bill Cipher sneaking up from behind

And he reached for his gun which he just couldn't find

'Cause Megamind stole it and he shot and he missed

And Slenderman deflected it with his fist

Then he jumped in the air and did a somersault

While Jack Skellington tried to pole vault

Onto Herobrine, but they collided in the air

Then they both got hit by a Reigen stare

This is the ultimate showdown of sexyman destiny

Objects and twinks and explosions as far as the eye can see

And only one will survive, I wonder who it will be

This is the ultimate showdown

Angels sang out with immaculate amour

Down from the heavens descended Cecil Palmer

Who delivered a kick that was powered by the weather

Into the crotch of Nagito Komaeda

Who fell over on the ground, writhing in pain

As Megamind changed back into Normal Brain (?)

But Cecil saw through his clever disguise

And he crushed Megamind’s head in between his thighs

Then Professor Venomous and maid-dress Raymond

And the Once-Ler and Turbo and Ingo and Spamton

And Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice and Wheatley

And trickster god Loki and self-aware Benr(e)y

Alastor, Dr. Habit, Junkrat, Guzma, Almond Cookie

The whole cast of Goncharov (1973)

Bruno Madrigal and Purple Guy

Tony the Clock, DOC OCK, and King Dice

All came out of nowhere lightning fast

And they kicked Cecil Palmer in his radio ass

It was the bloodiest battle that the world ever saw

With tumblrinas looking on in total awe

The fight raged on for like two weeks

Many lives were claimed, but eventually

The champion stood, the rest saw their better

Sans Undertale in a bloodstained sweater

This is the ultimate showdown of sexyman destiny

Objects and twinks and explosions as far as the eye can see

And only one will survive, I wonder who it will be

This is the ultimate showdown

(The sexiest showdown)

This is the ultimate showdown

(The sexiest showdown)

This is the ultimate showdown

Of sexyman destiny

#tumblr sexyrematch #i cannot format this properly. you’ll take it as it is #had to be done eventually right #for anyone wondering #doc ock is capitalised bc that was what the song actually originally said #and i was rlly excited about that fact and had to express it #I’ve seen a few people saying they want to hear this as an actual cover so I’ll just say in advance: #If you would like to create one you are more than welcome to #consider this tag your permission to do whatever you see fit to do with this magnificent monstrosity of a post

[threewaywithdelusion]

Ronan/Adam Cheating Fic

Ronan always hated how casually Declan treated love. 

He watched his brother go through a dozen relationships with girls who didn’t mean anything. He watched as Declan showed them off like arm candy without learning anything real about them. As Declan dated for sex, or appearances, or whatever else ticked a box on his to-do list that week. He couldn’t understand how Declan could be with those girls without loving them. How he could use them, dismiss them, cheat on them. 

Ronan swore he would never be anything like his brother.

He looks down at the arm around his naked waist, tan skin against white sheets.

It’s not Adam’s hand pressed against his skin.

***

Adam is working when Ronan comes home. He’s sitting on the couch, laptop in his lap, looking through a database for reliable sources. He’s on his second cup of coffee even though it isn’t quite 9 am yet and he’s been trying to sleep in this summer. But the paper is due on the first day of class and Adam has spent most of the summer working at Boyd’s, jumping into the swimming hole at the Barns, and going on long drives where he and Ronan make out over the gearshift and then fool around in the back of the BMW. He told Ronan to go spend time with Gansey — back from traveling the world and staying in Henrietta for the month before he heads to Georgetown — this weekend so he could get started on the paper. He needs to impress the professor if he wants to get offered a research assistant position, which means he needs peace and quiet, and Ronan is much too tempting a distraction.

Adam is listening to music in one earbud, trying to motivate himself for several hours of sitting in the same spot and digging through obscure peer-reviewed papers, when the door opens. Adam shuts off the music. 

Ronan is quiet as he comes in, excepting the moment when he knocks into the table in the entryway and curses up a storm. 

Adam looks up from his computer when he hears that.

Ronan enters the living room a moment later, a disgruntled look on his face.

“The table hasn’t moved,” Adam says. “You could try walking around it one of these days.”

Ronan’s supposed to flip him off and say something about the ugly-ass table being too big for the hallway and how Adam should allow him to dream up a nicer one that won’t attack Ronan every single day.

Instead Ronan just says “yeah okay.”

It doesn’t even sound sarcastic.

Adam frowns. “Are you okay?”

Ronan tenses. “Yeah.”

“Hungover?” 

Ronan knows that Adam doesn’t like it when he drinks. They’ve reached a sort of unspoken compromise; Adam doesn’t complain if Ronan drinks and in return Ronan keeps the drinking in their apartment to a minimum and goes out when he wants to get shitfaced. It’s not unusual for Ronan to creep in early in the morning, nursing a bad hangover and grumbling over-dramatically, though it has become less common recently.

“Fuck off, Parrish, you’re not my babysitter.”

There’s real venom in Ronan’s voice, which takes Adam by surprise. Ronan doesn’t usually lash out so badly anymore, especially over something as innocuous as this line of questioning. 

Adam gives Ronan an unimpressed look and turns back to his laptop. If Ronan’s acting this shitty because of a hangover, he’ll regret it later. Adam will let him go chug some water and nap for a bit and talk it over with him when he’s in a better mood. 

Ronan does go into the kitchen. But instead of emerging quickly with a water and some Advil, the way he does when he’s hung over, he stays in there. Dull thuds echo all the way to the couch. Adam can picture Ronan slamming down plates and cups too hard, closing cabinets with all his strength just because he can. 

But he has to imagine it, because Ronan never acts like this. He’s loud and destructive, yes, but not like this. He drives too fast and blasts his music too loud and comes up with stupid game ideas that end up with them both getting road-rash, but he’s careful to only engage in a particular kind of stupidity. The dumb teenage kind that feels a bit like freedom, even as it’s wild and dangerous and occasionally angry. 

Ronan knows Adam doesn’t like slamming cabinets or plates being set down aggressively. That’s probably why he’s in the other room right now, trying to hide whatever aggression this is from Adam. 

It’s still really unusual for Ronan to be this careless, so Adam goes to check on his boyfriend. 

Ronan is standing over the sink, his head bowed down between his shoulders. All Adam can see is the back of his leather jacket, the tense line of his posture. 

There’s a plate of eggs on the table, with a cup of water and a coffee, but they’re all untouched. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Adam asks. 

Ronan spins around, startled, and Adam is surprised to see tears on his cheeks. He immediately softens, stepping further into the room. “Ronan?”

“Shit,” Ronan says, wiping aggressively at his cheeks. “I didn’t realize you could hear that. Shit. I’m sorry.”

He looks genuinely remorseful, no defenses or snarky attitudes to be found. He doesn’t say anything about the tears, though he must know Adam has seen them. 

“Ronan,” Adam says. 

“I thought you were listening to music,” Ronan says, still explaining the wrong thing. “Don’t you have a nerd paper due this week? You always listen to music when you do research.”

“I turned it off to say hello to you before I realized you were so cheery this morning,” Adam snarks. “But we can circle back to how to close a cabinet like a normal person. What’s going on?”

Ronan looks pained. “Just go do your paper. I’ll keep it down.”

“Lynch,” Adam snaps. 

“Parrish,” Ronan snaps back. “Just leave me alone. I have a killer goddamn headache and I can’t do this right now.”

Adam eyes the full glass of water on the table. He strides to the nearest cabinet, grabs the bottle of Advil, and pours two into his palm. He slams the cabinet shut a little harder than he needs to, trying to ignore the hypocrisy, and slaps the pills into Ronan’s palm. 

Ronan stares at the little red pills like he’s never seen them before. Then he sets them on the counter beside himself. 

Adam expects him to move to grab the water but he doesn’t, he just keeps standing there. 

Oh. This is Ronan punishing himself. 

Adam takes a deep breath. He’s trying to do better. He and Ronan don’t fight as much as they used to before they started dating, and a big part of that is because they’re both trying to unlearn their shitty responses to things and actually understand each other. 

Adam wants to scream that Ronan has fucking name-brand Advil and that he can get rid of his headache quickly, that he doesn’t have to suffer the way Adam did when he used to get stress headaches and not be able to afford the medication to fix it. 

But that would be Adam throwing his own shit at Ronan and that’s not fair. Ronan’s problem has never been access to things. Ronan’s problem is that he thinks he doesn’t deserve things, or distracts himself in dangerous ways, or hurts himself because he thinks he should. 

“What happened?” Adam asks. 

Ronan scowls. “I’m trying to be a considerate fucking boyfriend and let you finish your paper before everything goes to shit, so just fuck off, okay? We can talk later.”

“No,” Adam says. “I’m not putting up with you angry or moping or whatever until I finish, so tell me now.”

“Fuck you,” Ronan says, the way he only does when he has no better defense. 

Adam crosses his arms. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Because you’re going to break up with me!” Ronan snaps. He looks like he regrets it a moment later, but the words are already out. 

Okay. Ronan is feeling vulnerable and lashing out. That makes sense. 

What Adam can’t figure out is why it’s happening now.

“If this is some bullshit about me going back to school-”

“No, it’s not that,” Ronan says. Then, more darkly, “you should leave me.”

Adam huffs. Thinks of Ronan, who brings him breakfast in bed every time Adam comes home to him. Who pays attention to what Adam needs and gives him gifts, but always in ways that don’t push the boundaries Adam has set, even when Ronan doesn’t agree with him. Who dreams brothers and baby mice and magical forests and still thinks he’s nothing good. 

“What?” Adam says, “You had a nightmare or a bad night and you decided to punish yourself by tearing down our relationship?”

“I cheated,” Ronan says.

There’s a heavy silence. Ronan leans against the sink, staring at the ground, looking defeated. 

Adam’s brain feels like static. There’s nothing there, no Adam Parrish, no Cabeswater rustling in his ear, nothing. Adam plays the words back in his head, once, twice, but they still don’t make any more sense.

“You don’t cheat,” Adam says. A truth he knows down to his bones. Ronan doesn’t do casual. Ronan hates cheaters. 

“I don’t lie either,” Ronan snarls. “I’m telling you the truth. I slept with someone else last night.”

Adam stares at Ronan. 

He wishes he had listened to Ronan and gone to write his stupid paper. He wishes he wasn’t here, in this sunlit kitchen, feeling frozen and cold. 

“What?”

Ronan just shrugs at him, like he doesn’t know what else to say. He finally looks up and he looks absolutely miserable, new tears in his eyes. He looks defeated, like he’s just waiting for Adam to start yelling. To dump him. To break his heart. 

Adam thinks that’s really fucking unfair, because Ronan doesn’t get to be heartbroken. Not when he broke Adam’s heart first. 

“I’m sorry,” Ronan croaks. Adam’s never heard so many apologies from him in his life, never mind in one day. “I don’t know how it happened. I was really drunk and really fucking stupid. When I woke up this morning and realized what happened and that I wasn’t with you, I regretted it immediately.”

Adam feels like there are two of him, standing in the same spot in the kitchen. One Adam is burning hot with righteous fury. This is the Adam that kicked a box once in the attic of the church, scaring Blue away. The Adam that wants to scream and rage. The Adam whose anger feels like fire, feels like Ronan’s, feels like his father’s.

The other Adam has gone cold. A little numb, except for the tight ball in the center of his chest. This Adam wants to cut Ronan down with words, use every soft point Ronan has shown him to make him feel as bad as Ronan has just made Adam feel. Wants to make him feel even worse than that. 

Adam hates both versions of himself. 

He stands there, shaking, and forces the fire to melt the ice. 

 Ronan is staring at him, waiting for a reaction, but Adam can’t focus on him yet, needs to get himself under control first. 

It turns out that when the fire and ice consume each other, all that’s left is water. 

Adam blinks away tears. 

He doesn’t know what to do with this information. He knows Ronan, as much as he wishes right now that he didn’t. He knows Ronan hates hookups and casual relationships and one night stands with every fiber of his being. He can’t figure out what would make Ronan go against such a deeply held belief. 

Was it Adam? Was he not good enough? Too cold, too scary, too unknowable?

Or was it the stranger? Did Ronan somehow find someone so alluring that he couldn’t resist?

Was it just because Ronan was drunk? Was he too drunk? Did he know what he was doing enough to make the decision to climb into some guy’s bed?

Adam starts there. Ronan has a tendency to blame himself even for things that aren’t his fault, and Adam needs to figure out if he’s actually guilty before he escalates the fight. 

“How drunk is really drunk?” he asks. 

“I don’t know,” Ronan says, looking surprised by this line of questioning. “A couple beers. Enough to make stupid fucking decisions, I guess.”

“But it was your decision?”

Ronan stares at him for a moment, brow furrowed, before he gets it. He turns red and looks away, ashamed. “Yeah. I was sober enough for that.”

At least that’s one worry out of the way. 

“Okay. Explain this to me then, Lynch, because I don’t fucking get it. You went out last night, with Gansey. To a straight bar, I presume. And you decided to forget about your committed relationship and all your ethical hangups to hook up with some guy you met on a night out?”

Ronan’s face twists. 

“Well?” Adam demands. 

“Jesus, shit, give me a second,” Ronan says. “I’m trying to figure out how to say this without making it worse.”

“How could this get worse?” 

Ronan tips his head back, looks at the ceiling. Like this, his throat is exposed and Adam can see a faint hickey on one side of his neck. One Adam didn’t leave. 

It hits Adam like a punch to the gut. 

Proof. 

This is real. Ronan cheated.

It’s not like Adam really believed Ronan was pulling a long, unfunny prank, but part of him was hoping there would be another explanation. That Ronan was confused about what had happened or was blowing things out of proportion. 

Ronan really cheated.

“It was Gansey,” Ronan says. 

Adam blinks. “Gansey… set you up with a guy? Or egged you on?”

That doesn’t sound like Gansey at all, but it makes more sense than the other option. 

Ronan shakes his head. 

“You slept with Gansey,” Adam says, flat. The only other possible meaning to what Ronan just said. 

“Yeah.”

Adam doesn’t know what he’s feeling. There’s no betrayal, only disbelief.

“Gansey’s straight,” Adam says dumbly. 

Adam would know if Gansey liked men. He used to watch Ronan watch Gansey, back when they first forcibly became part of the same friend group, pulled together by sheer force of Gansey’s determination. Used to see the way Ronan’s eyes tracked over Gansey in the mornings, when Gansey was still sweaty from crew practice. Used to see the way Ronan lit up a little extra when he managed to make Gansey laugh. Used to see glimpses of a better Ronan, a less grief-stricken, less angry boy, in the way Ronan treated Gansey. 

Adam likes the Ronan who tells crass jokes and curses like a sailor and snarks in a way that borders on mean. But he never would have fallen for him if he hadn’t also seen the Ronan who lived underneath, the Ronan who loved so hard that it was killing him. 

The first time Adam had ever seen that softer Ronan, it had been directed at Gansey. 

Ronan had been so obvious, bleeding his crush all over the place. 

But Gansey had never looked back. Adam knew, because he’d been watching Gansey too. Because before Ronan was anyone who mattered, Gansey had been there, fumbling and earnest and unfairly handsome in his stupid rich-boy clothes. 

Ronan huffs. Shrugs. Says, “I don’t know what to tell you, man.”

Now, Adam feels the betrayal. But strangely, he’s more angry at Gansey. 

Gansey, who is supposed to be his friend. Gansey, who looked Adam in the eye and told him not to hurt Ronan, like this wasn’t a relationship that mattered to Adam. Gansey, who then turned around and tried to wreck it himself. 

Gansey, who has a girlfriend. 

“What about Blue?” Adam asks. 

Ronan winces. “Gansey is talking to her now.”

Shit. Blue is scary when she’s mad. And she holds grudges when she knows she’s right. It took her and Adam months to get over the awkwardness of their breakup, and that was a teenage relationship that had never felt quite right. 

What is going to be the fallout of this? Will any of them ever be friends again?

This is what Adam gets for trusting people. Depending on them. Building his life around the belief that they would be there. 

“She’s going to kill him” Adam says. 

“Maybe,” Ronan says. “Maybe not. Gansey says she’s the one who brought up the idea of non-monogamy months ago, but he turned her down. He wanted to stay exclusive or whatever. So. Could go either way.”

Jesus. 

Adam isn’t even sure how his own breakup was going. 

Is it weird that he feels better knowing it was Gansey? He’s angry at Gansey for going through with it, but at least he knows that Ronan didn’t decide to throw away their relationship over some guy he’d met last night. It isn’t because there’s anything wrong with Adam. 

It’s that Gansey is Gansey and Ronan is Ronan, and their relationship has always been deeper than an ordinary friendship.

“Did you kiss him?” Adam asks. “Or did he kiss you?”

Ronan clears his throat, blushing. “He kissed me.”

“Goddamit.” Adam pushes off the door, taking a seat at their kitchen table, across from where Ronan’s breakfast sits. 

“Sit down,” he says. “Your food is getting cold.”

Ronan blinks. “What?”

“Eat,” Adam says. “I need to think. And take your damn Advil. It doesn’t give me any satisfaction to see you in pain.”

Ronan sits tentatively. Adam watches as he takes the Advil then starts on his cold eggs. 

Adam… is not as angry as he should be. 

When he thought Ronan had slept with a random man, he’d been furious. He’d thought he was losing Ronan, or that Ronan was throwing them away because he’d decided Adam wasn’t worth it. 

But this feels different. It doesn’t feel like he has any less of Ronan that he’s always had. 

Adam has always shared Ronan with Gansey. 

Of course he has. Gansey had been there first. Gansey had shaved Ronan’s hair and held him through his grief. Gansey had fought to keep Ronan safe, to keep Ronan happy, to keep Ronan alive. Gansey had believed in Ronan’s goodness when no one else had. 

Adam has seen his boyfriend dream up dozens of epipens, a new one every week, because his love for Gansey is subconscious and ever-present. He’s seen the soft smile Ronan gives only to Gansey, different from the one he reserves only for Adam. He’s known about the nights Ronan and Gansey stayed up, talking over the model of Henrietta, two insomniacs baring themselves in a way they couldn’t by the light of day. He has found them, asleep together on Gansey’s mattress in the middle of Monmouth, on the nights when they hadn’t fallen asleep until sunrise. 

He has known all along that Gansey is important to Ronan. Equally as important as Adam, just in a different way.

He also assumed that Gansey’s heterosexuality was the reason Ronan had never tried to make a move on him. 

But if Gansey had kissed him first… yeah. Adam doesn’t blame him for kissing back. 

He doesn’t see how Ronan could have done anything else. 

That throws out all the questions people usually ask when they’re cheated on. “Why?” and “how could you?” are pretty useless when Adam already understands the answer. 

Adam doesn’t doubt that Ronan loves him. Has never been able to doubt it. Not when Ronan had wooed him so carefully. Ronan had made his intentions clear from the beginning. He’d seen the ugliest parts of Adam and stayed. He’d let Adam see him vulnerable, let Adam see the worst sides of him. 

Adam knows he’s seen parts of Ronan that Gansey has never seen. 

But he also knows Gansey has seen sides of Ronan that he’s never seen. 

Ronan loves them both. Ronan loves them differently. Ronan loves one of them more?

There’s his question. 

“You said I was going to break up with you,” Adam says slowly. Ronan looks up from where he’s poking at the eggs. “Does that mean you’re not breaking up with me?”

Ronan stares at him. “Why the fuck would I break up with you? The fuck did you do wrong?”

“So you’re staying with me because you think it’s the right thing to do,” Adam says. 

“I’m staying with you because I love you,” Ronan says. “I know you’re going to break up with me, and I know it doesn’t look true, but I don’t lie. I love you.”

“More than Gansey?”

Ronan looks pained. He doesn’t answer. 

“Do you love Gansey more than me?” Adam tries. 

Ronan pauses for a long moment. Then he shakes his head. 

Okay. So he doesn’t love Gansey more than Adam. 

But that isn’t the right question. That isn’t really what Adam has been wondering. 

“What I mean is,” Adam says. “If I break up with you, are you going to try to date him?”

Ronan’s head snaps up. “If?”

“Not the question, Lynch,” Adam says. “If I broke up with you, would you date Gansey?”

“I don’t know,” Ronan says. “Maybe. If he wasn’t with Blue. Or if you were already never speaking to me again.”

“And if I was speaking to you?”

Ronan swallows. He’s crying, silent tears running down both cheeks. “If you broke up with me, and we stayed friends, and you wouldn’t be my friend if I dated him, then I wouldn’t. I don’t want to lose you.”

This is a lot of very straightforward honesty from Ronan. Adam almost doesn’t know what to do with it. He’s used to Ronan hiding behind barbs or sarcasm, especially when he’s being honest. 

Maybe this is what Ronan acts like when he feels guilty. Or maybe this is Ronan when he’s scared. 

Adam taps his fingers on the table. “If I didn’t break up with you-“

Ronan perks up, looking hopeful and Adam holds up a hand, “I haven’t decided yet, Lynch. But if I didn’t break up with you, would you regret it?”

“I already regret sleeping with him,” Ronan says.

“No. Would you regret staying with me?”

Ronan looks shocked. “What the fuck? You think after everything I would leave you for him?”

“I think you thought he was straight,” Adam says. 

“Well, yeah,” Ronan says. “But you’re not like, a fucking consolation prize. You know what I thought the first time I saw Gansey? ‘That man has the stupidest shoes I’ve ever seen.’ You know what I thought the first time I saw you?”

Adam shakes him head. 

“Please.”

Adam arches an eyebrow. “Please?”

“I prayed, Adam. I saw you and I just…”

Ronan runs out of words, like he can’t explain everything he had felt in that moment. 

Ronan had seen him and prayed. 

Ronan — who goes to Mass every Sunday, who is reverent about his God, who treats his church like it’s sacrosanct — Ronan had seen Adam and prayed. 

Fuck. 

“So if you were with me, you wouldn’t be thinking about Gansey? Wishing things turned out differently?”

“Never,” Ronan says. He looks so serious that Adam can’t doubt he is speaking the truth. 

“Would you do it again?”

“If I could go back in time-“

“No. This isn’t a hypothetical. I’m asking, if we stay together, will you sleep with Gansey again?”

“No,” Ronan says without hesitation. “I made a mistake. But I don’t want to be a cheater. And I don’t want to cheat on you.”

Adam holds his gaze for a long moment. Ronan looks honest and desperate and all logic in the world dictates that Adam not believe a cheater who is still sitting there wearing hickies from someone else, but God help him, Adam believes him. 

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he decides, making Ronan’s eyes go wide with surprise. “You get a one-time pass because it’s Gansey. But Ronan-“

He makes sure Ronan is looking at him. 

“If you ever cheat on me again, with Gansey or anyone else, we’re done. No more second chances.”

“I won’t need another one,” Ronan swore wildly.

“And I’ll make you regret it,” Adam promises. He meets Ronan’s eyes and lets him see the anger and cruelty he’s capable of. 

Ronan knows how dangerous he is. Ronan has seen the vile nightmares Adam can dream up. Has used them to his benefit, to destroy Greenmantle, and been a little horrified at the darkness in Adam’s brain. 

He chose Adam knowing he was choosing a monster. 

“I would deserve it,” Ronan says, somber understanding and Catholic guilt. 

Adam could never bring himself to hurt Ronan too badly. Part of him hopes Ronan knows that. The other part, the part that’s still smarting at the image of Ronan in Gansey’s bed, hopes Ronan doesn’t know how horribly vulnerable he has made him. 

Adam feels like a declawed cat. He’s never had any problem hurting others to protect himself, but he doesn’t know what to do when the one person he can’t bring himself to hurt is the one causing him pain. 

Is this what Ronan felt like when Adam strangled him?

They look across the breakfast table at each other and Adam wonders if this is what love is. Does it always involve so much guilt and pain and hope and forgiveness? 

Adam remembers thinking that of all the options in the world, Ronan is the most difficult version of any of them. 

He wasn’t wrong. But he doesn’t think he was wrong to choose Ronan either. Despite everything that has happened, he can’t bring himself to regret them.

Ronan makes Adam feel special. Makes him feel daring, makes him feel young, makes him feel awake. 

It’s all Adam has ever wanted — to feel awake when his eyes are open.

“I love you,” Ronan says, like it is the barest and most intrinsic truth of his soul. 

Adam stands, rapping his knuckles on the wooded table. “I’m going to write my paper. Drink plenty of water and go sleep off your hangover. I’m furious with you right now and I don’t want to look at you.”

He turns to leave the kitchen and stops when Ronan calls out, “But we’ll be okay?”

Adam doesn’t turn around. He can’t look at Ronan if he’s going to say this. “We’ll be okay. You’re a fucking asshole. But. I love you too.”

It hurts to say. But it’s nothing but the bitter, hopeful truth. 

-----------

Coming soon to an AO3 near you! But first...

#the raven cycle #adam parrish #Ronan lynch #gansey #richard campbell gansey iii #Mia writes fanfic #trc fic #pynch but also ronsey? #idk

[humanoidalien27]

Chapter list: One. Two. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

....

Chapter 3

Meeting the family

The fireplace felt warmer than you remembered. The embers stirring the remaining bits of emotion that hadn't been toyed with today.

You were relieved it was passed curfew and most of your fellow Slytherins had already gone to bed, but you could have done without the attention of both boys, who had been patiently waiting for you to say something.

Shifting after what felt like centuries, Sebastian broke the silence. "Are you okay?"

He shifted to the edge of his seet to see your face better, not that it seemed to appease him.

"What happened?" He looked to Ominis who sighed softly for the hundredth time. "Everything was strained this morning, but nowhere near this level. Then you come back from Professor Black's office- you're not getting expelled, right?"

"I wish," you mumbled, before pressing your fingers into your temples.

Sebastian nearly fell off the sofa and looked to Ominis for clarification.

"My parents were here," he started slowly, the words had more venomous than before. "They wanted to let me know they were happy I was becoming friends with the newest Slytherin pureblood whose already made a name for herself."

You grimaced as a shiver ran through you. The underlying end game was all too clear for your taste.

"They called you both to meet your parents?"

I sneered his way, getting him to scootch away.

"If meeting the family that tortured Ominis and I wasn't enough," you clarified sharply, earning an apologetic look from both boys. "My parents were there too. To inform me that I was once again part of the family and then both of sides began to get increasingly interested in our friendship and wondered just how close we were getting."

Sebastian's face screwed up into half sympathy and a scowl. "They do remember who you are, right?"

You scoffed, but pressed your fingers to your mouth to stop more from slipping out. At the moment, your filter was broken.

Noticing, Ominis spoke. "They didn't recognize her."

Of course they wouldn't recognize me, they tortured plenty of people in their time, one face wouldn't stand out.

"Your lives are getting pretty twisted," Sebastian mumbled.

You sent him a look as your hand dropped onto the armrest, making Ominis jump slightly.

"Don't get mad at me because you two are in this mess. I didn't drag you into it...this time."

Sighing, you stood and started pacing behind the couch, ignoring Sebastian as he continued to press Ominis.

You wouldn't be in this situation if it wasn't for that dragon attacking the carriage. If it wasn't for some rare magic you couldn't run away from. If you had kept a low profile, maybe your wizard parents wouldn't have found out about you being accepted into Hogwarts. Maybe you could still escape, get away before their claws dig further into your skin.

No, you couldn't do that to Fig, the answers he needed were ones only you could give him.

"You're going to wear a hole in the stone," Sebastian's voice said, drawing your gaze, seeing both of them following your movements. "Come on, they were just checking in right?"

You narrowed your eyes, getting a smirk before you realized he was just trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't know about their parents, but mine don't randomly check in unless they want something."

Exhaling softly, you rested your weight on the couch. "I haven't spoken to mine since they dropped me in the middle of nowhere. But, I know them, they wouldn't have come here unless they were after something."

Ominis nodded as he tapped his leg uncomfortably. "I think they're going to try to pair us."

You noticed the glance Sebastian sent you both as you ran a hand through your hair, your stomach twisting. "The last thing I want is being related to those people."

"Which? His parents, yours or Ominis?" Sebastian teased.

"Our so called parents."

Sliding closer, Sebastian smirked. "You're defending Ominis now?"

You spared him a glance before your eyes met Sebastian's. "You can't fake what I saw tonight."

Ominis knew what you meant, but seemed grateful for your avoidance.

"What does that mean?"

"It means we have to find a way out of this mess before it escalates," you answered as you began to pace again.

You knew you and Ominis couldn't avoid each other now, not when both sets of parents knew the two of you were friends, even if you were still unsure you could call it that.

"There's nothing we can do to change their minds," Ominis mentioned louder than he needed, as if knowing your mind would take over. "We'll just have to hope they let this go."

"To be honest, they could be against the idea of you two hanging around together too. Right now, there are just assumptions. We have to wait for more to go on."

You grumbled, but you knew he was right. Anything you do now could just make things worse for the both of you and better for them.

You tried to continue classes like normal, but you felt eyes on you everywhere and given how jumpy Ominis was being, he felt it too.

It got so bad that everyone began to avoid the both of you, save Sebastian who mostly seemed uncomfortable.

It reached the breaking point just after dinner.

"We can't go to the undercroft, they know about it."

Ominis just stared forward, you didn't know if he was just getting used to it or slipping into his head to escape.

"I might know a place actually, follow me."

You knew it was meant to help your homework with no distractions, but this whole situation turned into a hellscape.

The boys followed you up to the seventh floor, confused as to why you were leading them to the astronomy tower, but instead you stopped in the hallway as a door slowly started to materialize on the wall.

"Quickly," you hissed, practically shoving Sebastian in first, though you were a careful with Ominis so you wouldn't shove him into the wall.

"Ah, you're back," Deek said moving around the corner, seeing the two boys with you. "And you brought company."

You'd forgotten Deek was here, you'd only focused on wanting a place no one else seemed to know about.

"Uh, yeah, we have to study and it's nearly curfew and our common room is noisy for the next couple hours."

Nodding Deek smiled at the boys. "Let Deek know if you need anything."

Sighing, you lead the boys further into the room, moving through a hall and into the area you turned into a living room, with plants on one side and potions on the other.

"What is this place?" Sebastian mumbled as he plucked a book off one of the nearest bookcases.

"The room of requirement," you admitted as you sat down on the couch. "Professor Weasley showed it to me so I could get caught up on school work."

Ominis took a seat as the prickly sensation of being watched faded.

"I guess it's safe to say neither knows about this place?" Sebastian asked, after watching your expressions relax.

"All day," Ominis whispered. "They've been watching all day."

Sebastian placed the book on the shelf before moving to sit. "You two look like you're about to pass out."

Almost immediately, three beds appeared in the middle of the floor, making the boys jump, before their attention turned to you.

"The room can change to accommodate the needs of those inside it."

"Then apparently, even the room agrees," he replied.

....

#ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #fanfiction #ominis x oc #ominis x reader #Deek

[professionalfanatic]

Harry stiffled a curse, heading back to the Tower after yet another detention with Umbridge. He cast a Tempus, and groaned, seeing that it was a little past midnight. Now he would have to copy off Hermione's Transfiguration homework again, seeing he was just too exhausted to pick a quill, forget writing down the Laws of Goodness knows what.

He hoped Hermione was  asleep. His hand seemed to be bleeding even more than usual, and even though he would have loved to soak his hand in her special dittany , he didn’t want to deal with her rebukes again. He knew that she disapproved of him keeping the true nature of Umbridge’s detentions quiet. She'd been urging him the whole of the past weekend to go to Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, anyone really, but Harry had refused soundly. He didn't want to see the satisfaction on Umbridge’s face that she was getting under his skin. That she was hurting him. He'd be damned before he allowed that to happen.

Besides, what use was it, going to Dumbledore? The man seemed to be pretty determined to ignore him for the entirety of the school year, starting from his Trial back at the Ministry for Magic. Harry didn’t want to bother him either. He must be busy, what with the whole business of Voldemort, and the Ministry being a bunch of idiots.

So Harry would just have to deal with it. It wasn’t anything huge, he had lived with the Dursleys for the past 15 years of his life.

He yawned, rubbing his tired eyes. Honestly, this year was turning out to be the worst ones ever. He was so exhausted and disgruntled with everything that he was even looking forward for the holidays, and that's to say something, because Harry usually preferred his school terms better than the vacation.

But who could blame him? What with the whole business with Voldemort coming back to torment him, the dementor at Privet Drive, Dumbledore ignoring him, the horrible nightmares, Umbridge with her stupid DADA lessons, the damn detentions, his OWLS and that blonde prat -

"Oof! " Harry huffed as he collided with someone, and made a head dive to the floor. "Watch where your going! "

It was unfair, he knew, as he had been the one engrossed in his thoughts to have not seen the dark clad figure, who was also now sprawled on the floor in a very undignified manner.

"I think you should do that. "

Harry froze in the act of standing up. He could identify that snooty, lordly sneer anywhere.

"Malfoy. "

Of everyone he could have bump into after detention, it just had to be Malfoy.

The said boy was now dusting himself off the floor, scowling as he did so. His blond hair was all over the place, and he looked a bit more dishevelled for his impeccable Malfoy appearance. Not to mention, he was also sprawled on the floor, in a very undignified manner.

Malfoy looked up, and seeing Harry’s glaring face, his own scowl deepened.

"Potter. " He sneered at him. "What are you doing here at this time of the night? Not sneaking around, I hope? "

"Malfoy. " Harry bit back with equal venom. "It's none of your business. "

His scowl was replaced by a little smirk. "Language, Potter. I'd like to remind you that I am a prefect. Which means that I, unlike you, can take away some points for your unseemly behaviour. "

Harry glared at him.

His smirk grew. "So tell me, Oh great boy who lived. What are you doing at this ungodly hour? "

"Detention. " Harry said through gritted teeth. "I had detention with Umbridge. "

Harry hadn't thought that his smirk could become any wider. But apparently, it could, and Malfoy actually had the nerve to let out a gloating laugh.

"Ah, yes. Detentions for all the lies you've been spouting this year, am I correct? "

"You know very well if they are lies or not, Malfoy. " Harry grinned, seeing the smirk on Malfoy's face fade.

"Do I, then? " He hissed, a glare adorning his features.

"At least your scumbag of a Death Eater father would. " Harry shot at him. He shouldn't be here, fighting with Malfoy, a distant voice in his head which resembled Hermione was warning at him to shut his big mouth and stop enraging the blond menace, but Harry never did have much self control around Malfoy.

Malfoy's lip was curling in a cruel sneer.

"At least I have parents, Potter. Yours are six feet under. "

Harry saw red.

He growled at the disgusting slimy Slytherin and leapt forward, pulling his wand out of his pocket, not giving a least care that this would very well mean another set of ghastly detentions with the toad like woman. Malfoy had pushed him to the limit today, and insulting his dead parents, he could not tolerate. He wanted to murder the stupid bastard.

Ginny's Bat Bogey Hex seemed a good idea at the moment-

"Potter! What's wrong with your hand?! "

Harry stopped in his tracks, startled, all thoughts of hexes and curses forgotten. He had not expected Malfoy to ask about his hand, much less notice his hand was bleeding.

He spared a glance at his blood dripping hand and winced. Okay, maybe he would've noticed, but Harry never expected him to look so... different. He wasn’t sneering at him, or giving out snide comments at how pathetic he was to injure his hand, on the contrary, Malfoy was staring at him with something akin to..... concern.

"What? " Harry said stupidly.

"Your hand, Potter. " Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Why is it bleeding all over the place? "

"That's - " Harry began to say, before stopping abruptly. "Wait, what? "

"Potter, much as I knew your brain to be nonexistent, this is ridiculous, if you don't have the ability to understand simple sentences. " Malfoy rolled his eyes expressively.

"No! Just... why are you asking about my hand? " Harry garbled.

Malfoy heaved a sigh and lurched forward, and grabbed his hand, making Harry yelp.

He watched as a series of emotions flick in Malfoy's grey eyes, moving from concern, to surprise and anger after discerning the words carved into his skin.

Harry had never seen Malfoy's eyes look so intense. All for an injury that had happened to Harry. Harry bloody Potter, who was Malfoy's worst enemy. Why even was he angry for this? Harry had never been this stupefied in his life.

Then again, nothing about Malfoy ever made much sense, right?

"Bitch. " Malfoy muttered under his breathe and demanded sharply, startling Harry out of his bewilderment. "How long has she been making you do this? "

"Huh? " Harry mumbled, his brain yet to process Malfoy's question.

He rolled his eyes, and muttered, "Probably from the start of this term... no wonder its deep. "

Harry’s jaw dropped at Malfoy's unnatural concern.

"Woah, woah.. " He stuttered. "Malfoy? Are you alright? "

"What? " The said boy snapped, still staring at his hand with a frankly alarming expression.

"..... why.... are you holding my hand...? "

Harry winced when that was the first question that slipped him. That was not a good thing to ask right now. Or any time. He shouldn't be wondering why Draco Malfoy of all people was holding his hand and worrying about him. What next, Voldemort inviting him for a nice chat over a cup of coffee?

So in Harry’s defense, his concern was perfectly acceptable.

Malfoy was worried for Harry.

Malfoy, with his blond hair, not slicked back with gel for a change, and his grey eyes that looked almost silver in this light, was actually cradling Harry’s hand. Tenderly.

Harry shook his head frantically. That made no sense. He must be hallucinating. Did Fred and George give him  some weird thing that was making him see weird stuff like this? Were everyone in the common room laughing at how dumb his hallucination was?

Or dreaming. He must have returned to the common room, and he must have fallen asleep while writing Snape's stupid essay about the restorative properties of Merlin knows what. Any moment now he'll wake up, and laugh at himself for seeing such bizarre and stupid dream.

Literally anything made sense in the face of Draco bloody Malfoy expressing an emotion other than anger, and hatred to him.

He glanced at Malfoy's worried (worried! ) face and asked him slowly, in a delibrate voice,

"Malfoy, are you sure if you are all right? "

He yelped when said blonde prat tightened his grip on Harry’s hand. "Ow! What was that for?! "

Malfoy actually had the nerve to smile at him, though the look of worry didn't completely fade from his grey eyes. Which was still baffling Harry. He still couldn't think of any remotely logical reason as to why Draco Malfoy of all people was being worried about the state of his hand.

This didn't seem much like a hallucination, Harry thought, much to his discomfort. And he probably would have woken up by now, had it been a dream.

Perhaps... something had happened to Malfoy? Was he cursed or something? That made even more sense, seeing that Malfoy was the one who was actually acting in a very strange manner. Completely different. Was this someone polyjuiced as Malfoy? Even that made more sense.... whatever this nonsense happening right now did.

Harry pulled himself out of this slump he was falling into when he heard Malfoy sneer at him, and put his hand inside his pocket, pulling out his wand.

"What are you - "

"Relax, Potter, " Malfoy sneered, pointing his wand at Harry's hand.

Harry let out an incredulous laugh. This was getting way more insane by the second.

"You are pointing a wand at my hand, Malfoy, " Harry reasoned with perfect logic. "We've hated each other's guts for the past years, so yeah, sorry if I can't relax, when you point your fucking wand at me. "

Malfoy just rolled his eyes and muttered something, and Harry felt an immense sense of relief wash over his hand. Glancing down, he watched in astonishment as the blood dripping down his arm disappeared. The words carved into his hand were still visible, red and stark, but the painful sting had quite subsided.

Harry studied his now healed hand carefully, and glanced at Malfoy, who looked extremely smug.

Did Malfoy just heal his hand? No, that's not possible. What goddamn reason would Malfoy have to cure his hand? Did he curse his hand with some elaborate Pureblood spell?

But his hand seemed fine. In fact, it felt perfectly okay, now that the pain had been subdued by a great degree. He clenched his hand, smiling in relief as the sharp stab of pain had subsided.

"Wow, that feels great, " Harry exclaimed. He glanced at Malfoy who was still wearing his smug smirk, and gave a small wry nod. "Thanks, Malfoy, "

The blonde boy's smirked deepened. "I couldn't have the Oh great boy who lived bleeding all over the castle. Imagine the stress it would cause poor old Filch, " He gloated.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like I have to believe you did this for the sake of Filch's sanity. No, I think you care about me, " That sounded entirely too bizarre and wrong, but Harry thought he wasn't too faraway from the mark when Malfoy's pale cheeks flushed, and he looked away.

"Don't be ridiculous. Why in the name of Merlin would I care about you? " He snapped, stuffing his wand into his robes.

"Oh, I don't know- why else would you go out of your way to help me?" Harry grinned. It was totally fun, teasing the other boy and making him blush.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Potter. Just don't make it a habit to wander around the halls at midnight, knocking people down. I could have gotten seriously injured, "

Harry snorted. "Forgive me, your Royal Highness. It's okay to get acquainted with the floor once in a while, considering you walk three feet above it, "

"Acquainted? My Potter. That's a big word. Sure you didn't hurt your head, thinking that? " Malfoy smirked.

It was bizarre, them, Malfoy and Harry, actually having a civil conversation that didn't involve them flinging hexes and curses at each other. Ron wouldn't even believe him. He'd accuse Harry of lying. Hermione would believe him, but would seriously send him off for a check up with Pomfrey.

Harry stiffled a yawn, wondering just how late it was. Malfoy noted his yawn and rolled his eyes again.

"Goodness, Potter, cart yourself upto bed, please. Its terribly unattractive to see you yawn like that, " He sneered, but Harry, to his surprise didn't feel annoyed by it. Alright, just a little, but not enough to throw hexes at him.

"Shut up, " He murmured back, but with a lot less heat than earlier.

"Well, you will see the value of my words when you are inevitably even more inattentive at Snape's class tomorrow. " Malfoy smirked. "Maybe you'll land yourself another detention, "

Harry rolled his eyes, and turned to leave, silently acknowledging that Malfoy may have a point. He already had to finish Snape's stupid essay. If he was inattentive at class, and turn in a subpar essay as well, he might be in a lot of hot water. He was leaving when Malfoy called out to him, his voice more uncertain this time.

"You told Dumbledore about Umbridge’s punishment, didn't you? "

Harry whirled around, angered by the mention. It wasn't enough that Hermione was bothering him, now Malfoy as well? He could take care of himself, why did no one get that? Dumbledore had enough on his plate without Harry adding to it.

"There's no need for him to know. I can deal with it, " He snapped at Malfoy who looked taken aback.

"Merlin's beard, Potter! Stop getting so worked up over nothing. I just asked because Blood Quills are forbidden, you know? It's not a simple matter to use it on children. The School Board takes stuff like that seriously, "

Harry frowned at those words. "And you know this because... "

"My Father is a Governor, of course. " Malfoy rolled his eyes. "This school is unsafe anyway, remember that oaf Hagrid's ridiculous bird? "

"I remember you crying like a little baby, all because you couldn't follow simple instructions. " Harry taunted. "Buckbeak was a good Hippogriff, I rode him, remember? "

"Yeah, yeah, Saint Potter, capable of every miraculous feat possible, " Malfoy sneered. "But this place is a deathtrap, don't even refuse, "

Harry would have liked to refuse, but remembering Aragog, Hagrid's monstrous spider, and even the Basilisk, he just scowled. Malfoy did have a point. He turned around to leave when Malfoy called out again.

"Potter, do consider telling at least McGonagall. She's always on your stupid side, so she'll listen. And like I said, Blood Quills are forbidden. "

Harry looked at him shrewdly. Was this Malfoy's way of looking out for him? Something in Harry told him that Malfoy was genuinely trying to help him, like how he had healed Harry’s hand. Was he even telling Hadey a way to get Umbridge out of Hogwarts? Perhaps it wasn't such a terrible idea to go to McGonagall.

He just smiled at the blonde prat, liking how his cheeks flushed again.

"Good night, Malfoy, " Harry said instead of an answer.

Malfoy smiled at him. He actually smiled, instead of that stupid smirk. Harry found out that it was unexpectedly nice to see his pointy features soften by a mundane smile.

"Good night, Potter, "

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

Wrote this on ao3, but posted here too :)) Forgot how much I love Drarry to be honest :)

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #hogwarts #fluff #pre relationship #hogwarts fifth year #i just really love them #harco #idiots #mialovesbl #ao3 fanfic

[weebsinstash]

Why did I... Why did I kinda sorta imagine Erasermic the entire time with that one Emperor x Empress Reader x Male Concubine concept. Like. Aizawa as the Emperor and Hizashi as the concubine? Oomph.

Ok so this is definitely not the response you were looking for but when I was reading that Professor Venomous fic the other day WHICH SIDENOTE IS NOW LIVING IN MY HEAD RENT FREE BY THE WAY

(If you've never heard this man's voice before let me assure you yes the creators ARE trying to make you horny on purpose)

Anyways I was reading that fic and it reminded me how I would watch OK KO and I would think of a sort of reader insert character whatever always kind of popping in and out and sarcastically teasing people or making smart ass remarks towards Venomous and Boxman while they try and fail at villainy and go about their goofy antics and such and I suddenly had that epiphany of "oh wait isn't that just kind of the dynamic i liked about Erasermic, one of them is goofy and weird and the hot one is dark haired and more composed and all growly and shit" because I mean

like am I having a stroke or do they not have similar energy, like for the love of God BOXMAN AND VENOMOUS LITERALLY GET FUCKING MARRIED (seriously go watch OK KO its actually good though) and also they're both canon bi/pan btw, but like. Is this just the point in my life where I'm being horny for goofy ass weird men or moving towards a phase where I'm more attracted to narrative potential other than outright physical appearance at least in terms of writing things 👀 who knows

That being said I've been thinking of that concubine and emperor x reader idea and idk who I would use in terms of if I substituted characters, it might be fun to go more original, idk.

I thought of this idea of like, what sort of events could be that stereotypical "i didn't even fucking do anything and you're blaming me" and I thought of like, if the male concubine is so incredibly clingy and dying for reader's approval, imagine she catches him like bullying/horribly punishing a servant for a dumb reason and chews him out for him and has him escorted out of her palace and shuts the gates, and he just waits kneeling and calling out for her begging to be let back in, and Reader just completely ignores him because if she can't outright pubish him as the beloved concubine she can at least remove him from her little manor so he won't hurt her servants. And I imagine she tells the guards and other workers to completely ignore him because SURELY he'll eventually leave, right?

Except it starts pouring rain and you get a bad feeling and you rush outside and HE'S STILL THERE, ALL THESE HOURS LATER, SOAKING WET AND SHIVERING. So now fuck, you have to bring him in, and the whole time he's like "I knew you would come for me" and like little pathetic simping shit that makes it obvious he doesn't care about the punishment if he even realized it was one at all and he's just all but purring you pulled him out of the rain because, oh poor thing can't you see he is just cold and shivering? 🥺 is he one of those psychos who would hurt himself for your attention? Maybe, actually, if it works 😩 but of course the stupid little twunk is sick now with a horrible fever and of course who else but the Emperor is showing up "you had him kneel out in the cold until he fell ill? How heartless are you?" When it's like NO HE'S THE ONE WHO DECIDED TO STAY OUT THERE and I imagine the Emperor gives some sort of punishment like "well if you want to be left alone so badly then I suppose you won't need to leave your palace or receive guests for the rest of the season"

Reader has her hands full with all these conniving obsessive little shits 😩

#sinprompts #yandere stuff

[autisticsupervillain]

It's Fictional Throwdown Friday!

This Week's Fighters....

Cole MacGrath vs Spider-Man!

Conditions:

InFAMOUS 1 Good Cole vs Insomniac's Spider-Man. Spider-Man has the Anti-Venom suit.

Scenario:

Peter decides to take a trip to Empire City to help clean up the place during the quarantine. He starts by going after the man everyone insists is responsible for the bombing: Cole MacGrath.

Analysis: Cole MacGrath

Cole MacGrath is known by many names. To the people of New Marias, he is forever remembered as their Patron Saint. To the rest of the world, he's the monsterous and selfish Demon of Empire City. But before he had any of them, Cole MacGrath was just a normal bike courier living in Empire City. After quiting college to both spite his parents and protect his friend, Zeke, from a cruel professor, Cole didn't think he'd amount to anything in life. But all the changed when he opened a package that exploded in his face.

Waking up in the middle of a massive crater with new electric superpowers, Cole would find himself branded a terrorist and trapped in the gang ridden quarantine zone the city had become. Now, it was up to him to track down the mysterious Ray Sphere that had given him his powers and bring down the First Sons who created it.

We'll be discussing the version of Cole from the first game specifically today, meaning no ice powers yet. This Cole is a true electric man, able to manipulate, absorb, and use the entire electromagnetic spectrum in a variety of ways. Cole can hover by manipulating electromagnetism, create force fields that convert all matter that it touches into electric energy, and sense all sources of electricity with the sixth sense known as the Radar Pulse. This omnidirectional radar allows him to detect enemies by scanning the bio-electricity in their brain, track radio waves, and see the memories of the dead after he's scanned their mind with a touch.

Cole can shoot a wide variety of electric projectiles at his foes, including lightning bolts, sticky grenades, and homing rockets made of condensed electricity and kinetic energy. His lightning is consistently hot enough to vaporize and warp steel and make cars and buildings explode. In close quarters, Cole can restrain his opponents with Arc Restraints that bind them to the ground, dismember them with blades that come out of his hands, and drain the bio-electricity from his enemy's brain with a touch with bio-leech. Cole's body is constantly flowing with his electricity, preventing him touching guns or even sometimes cars without them exploding and his attacks can induce heart attacks and strokes in his targets. As far as his defensive options go, his shockwaves can reflect rockets and projectiles right back at their targets, his healing touch pushes a target's natural healing ability into overdrive to allow it to nearly instantly regenerate from near lethal wounds and poisons. He can even ride on and control electricity as it travels through telephone lines, which would require him to move and manipulate electricity moving at 90% the speed of light!

And that's not counting the various powers the come naturally to Conduits. Cole can regenerate nigh instantly from third degree burns coating his entire body and weaker Conduits than him can regenerate their limbs in seconds. Cole can even come back from the dead by having the electricty in his body restart his heart. Conduits age much slower than humans, with some of Cole's foes having bern alive long enough to witness the Salem Witch Trials, and are completely immune to disease. This includes the plague unleashed by the Ray Sphere, which not only acts completely unlike any disease or virus known to man, but also would've completely wiped out all of mankind aside from the Conduits if not stopped. Cole has resisted the mind controlling powers of Sasha, who could've taken over everyone in Empire City at once, and can develop new superpowers depending on how he uses his existing ones as an excellerated form of evolution. This is why good Cole and Evil Cole have such different power sets.

But his most devastating power is his lightning storm, a massive storm cloud that forms in the sky at his command and decimates everything it hits. Even Kessler and David Warner, two beings who get stronger the more electricity they absorb, get completely decimated by the power behind this one attack. And even though it takes a lot out of Cole's energy supply, Cole can activate his Karmic Overload ability to get it all back or get away by tapping into precision mode, which boosts his speed and reactions so high that even people much faster than him move at a crawl.

In order to create a thunderstorm that completely covered Empire City like that, Cole would have to have generated an energy equivalent to 55 megatons of TNT. And Cole did that accidentally five minutes after getting his powers in the first place. By the end of the game, he is much, much stronger.

Source:

But, electricity and water don't mix well and dropping into a large body of water can kill Cole by making the electricity leave his body.

After defeating the First Sons and killing Kessler, Cole would discover the dark secret behind their plan. As it turns out, Kessler was actually Cole himself from an alternate future timeline, coming back to warm him of The Beast that would destroy mankind. The Beast only he could defeat. The reluctant hero looked out at the city he'd saved, the city that had only just begun putting itself together, as he realized the fate of humanity lay in his hands.

Analysis: Spider-Man

Peter Parker. The Amazing, Spectacular Spider-Man. Hero to the people of New York and menace to J Jonah Jameson specifically. We all know the story. Peter Parker was just an average teenager until the day he got bitten by a radioactive spider that gave him superhuman powers. After the death of his beloved Uncle Ben at the hands of a mugger he failed to stop, Peter learned that with great power must also come great responsibility, becoming the legendary hero: Spider-Man!

And so forth. You know who Spider-Man is and you know what he can do. He can climb walls, shoot webs with wrist mounted web shooters, and see the future with his omnidirectional spider-sense, a sixth sense that warns him of incoming danger and gives him a full view of his surroundings. So on and so forth.

Peter's been Spider-Man for 8 years in this universe and his life.... really hasn't gotten any better. He's constantly broke, all his friends keep turning into supervillains, and he can't even go a year without some massive threat showing up to destroy the city that he alone can stop. Sure, new Spider-Man Miles Morales has done a lot to lighten the load, but he has his own problems to deal with and his own villains to fight. If only there was an easy fix all that could make all his problems go away...

Well, a certain jar of black goo has a few ideas about that.

Peter's luck seemed to be shaping up when his long lost childhood friend, Harry Osborn, came back into his life. Harry was gone for awhile battling the degenerative disease, but he was seemingly cured by the experimental cure he'd been administered, Venom. This alien symbiote had bonded to Harry's body, curing his condition, restoring him to his physical prime, and granting him superhuman abilities.

When Peter was fatally stabbed by Kraven the Hunter, Harry transferred the symbiote to Peter to save his life. And suddenly, everything seemed so much easier.

The symbiote doubled Peter's already immense superhuman strength, amplified his regeneration, and pushed his speed to inhuman levels. He could now regenerate from fatal wounds, resist poisons, and snap his own broken limbs back into place. Unlike other versions of the symbiote species, this version of the suit was completely immune to fire, and amplified his reflexes to the point that he could dodge particles within an active particle accelerator, which move at 99.997% the speed of light. He could use the symbiote's tendrils and shapeshifting abilities to bolster his combat ability, stricking out in every direction with massive tentacles, shapeshifting his clothes into disguises, and allow him to tap into a berserker rage. By all appearances, it seemed to make him a better Spider-Man.

But, that's where the other shoe dropped. The suit wasn't a cure, it was an invader, and it was corrupting Peter to its own ends. Make him more aggressive. Seperating him from his loved ones. Trying to make him kill his villains and even attempting to use his sleeping body to murder Mary Jane. Peter had to get it off. Using the suit's weakness to loud vibrations, Miles was able to defeat his corrupted mentor and separate the symbiote from him.

This allowed the suit to attach itself to Harry again, corrupting him... them into Venom. Venom prepared to "heal the world" by creating more symbiotes, planning to enslave the Earth to the Symbiote hivemind.

Peter and Miles needed to work together to save the world. And Spider-Man already has a whole host of tools ready to help him save the day.

Peter's suit is insulated against electricity, has built in wings to let him glide on the wind currents, and has lenses that can scan for unique chemical compounds. This allows him to track and identify unique compounds, to the point of even being able to synthesize antiserums for them while out in the field, such as when he created a cure to remove Tombstone's invulnerability. He can deploy spider bots to assist him in combat or in reaching tight areas, has an upgraded sonic pulse to exploit the Symbiote's weaknesses against loud sounds, has web grenades and web trip lines, can create holographic illusions of himself, electrify people with a touch, and even turn invisible.

By using the spider arms built into the back of his suit, Peter can absorb Miles's energy and unleash it in a massive blast that took out the Sandman in one shot. This is the same version of Flint Marko who created a sandstorm and thunderstorm that completely covered all of New York City, which would require an energy output equivalent to 55 Megatons of TNT.

Source:

But even this isn't the strongest tool in Peter's arsenal. Peter still had bits of the Symbiote in his body, trying to corrupt him from within. The combined efforts of Miles Morales and a redeemed Mister Negative were able to purify the suit, turning it into the Anti-Venom Symbiote. This non-sentient Symbiote gives Peter all the boons of his Symbiote suit without any of the draw backs, to the point of allowing him to purge the Symbiotes from a possessed person's body completely with a touch. This is the power that allowed Peter to purge Venom from Harry's system and save the world.

Now, having learned that there was no quick and easy answer to his problems and that his issue was stretching himself too thin, Peter decided to take a break from being Spider-Man. He wouldn't quit, but with Miles out there to protect the city, Peter decided to focus more on stabilizing his personal life. Get himself back on his feet.

But, with the Marvel Universe being what it was, he wouldn't be gone long. When trouble comes knocking and New York needs him, he'll always be your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

Throwdown Theme:

Throwdown Breakdown:

Stats here are... interesting. Because they scale to the exact same feat. Both of them scale to creating a thunderstorm that covered all of New York, as Empire City is just New York with a different name. The difference is the context around those feats.

It took the combined might of both Peter and Miles to defeat Sandman when he created the storm. With the Anti-Venom Symbiote, Spider-Man should be even stronger, as he's able to fight Venom. Venom defeated Kraven, whom Sandman was desperately terrified of, so Peter should be stronger than Sandman. Especially as Peter with the Venom Symbiote could defeat Kraven, and Anti-Venom is roughly equivalent to him.

But, Cole creating thunderstorms is his starting point. It's the first thing he did at the very start of the game and he's gotten much stronger by the end. To compare their scaling and chains:

Miles and Peter =/< Sandman (55 Megatons) < Kraven < Symbiote Spider-Man = Anti-Venom Spider-Man =/< Venom

Beginning of Game Cole (55 Megatons) < Sasha < Early Game Cole < Alden < Mid Game Cole < Kessler < End of Game Cole

So, yeah, Cole has a considerable strength advantage.

Speed is less complicated. Spider-Man dodging particles that move at 99% light speed puts him at slightly faster than Cole riding and controlling electricity that moves at 90%, but Cole's precision mode would allow him to overtake Peter, albiet not sustainably due to how fast it chews through his energy reserves.

Peter is considerably more agile than Cole, as his web swinging and web wings can match and surpass Cole's gliding, while his own platforming skills match and surpass Cole's own. While Cole would later develop pseudo electric web slinging powers and other abilities to give him more air time, that doesn't happen until inFAMOUS 2.

Similarly, Spider-Man should do better in hand to hand combat. Cole's sword arms get counted by the spider arms and Symbiote tendrils, while Peter's constant hand to hand encounters give him plenty of experience in that field that Cole doesn't have. Spider Sense and his speed advantage would also help for avoiding getting bio-leeched while up close.

Cole, however, should perform better in range. His abilities can reach an area measured in kilometers, his shields can convert any webs or gadgets thrown his way into more energy, while his power advantage should let him zap away any webbings Peter tries to catch him up with. Sure, Peter's webs can hold Electro, but going off the scaling chsin above, Cole's much stronger than Electro.

In fact, Peter's experience fighting Electro could work against him, as it would leave him ill prepared for Cole's powers. Cole is much more versatile, much more powerful, can ignore the insulation Peter built into his suit to counter Electro, and Electro isn't weak to water, meaning Peter wouldn't necessarily think Cole is with happening to see it. And even then, his unwillingness to kill would likely keep him from using it to any significant degree.

Cole has a lot of good counters to Peter. His Radar Sense counters holograms and invisibility, the spider drones can just be drained of electricity, shockwaves can push Peter back to maintain the range advantage, and thunderstorms can be used to knock Spider-Man out of the air. Cole's regeneration is superior (regrowing limbs and coming back from the dead vs resetting broken bones), Karmic Overload can temporarily compensate for Peter taking away his sources of electricity (assuming fighting Spider-Man doesn't give him Evil Karma, I guess, but even here it's self defense), and while Peter has been Spider-Man for eight years vs Cole's two months, Cole has beaten people who have been perfecting their powers since the Salem Witch Trials. Sonic Blasts and Anti-Venom touch would have no effect because Cole's not an alien and finally, Peter likely isn't strong enough to escape Arc Restraints once caught in them, which will trigger automatically if he's hit by a grenade.

Peter will put up a very strong fight, but Cole has plenty of advantages to slide this to his favor.

This Throwdown's Winner is....

Cole MacGrath!

#fictional throwdown fridays #infamous #cole macgrath #Insomniac's spider-man #spider man #peter parker #Youtube

[hesmiledlikeaweatherman]

The High School AU Part 2

More profiles to go along with Sorry, I Didn't Know I Had To Stay The Same using makowka's oc maker

The Inuzuka and Aburame Families

Tsume Age: 39 Occupation: Dog walker and trainer

Tsume had always wanted to be a vet -- unfortunately, her undiagnosed ADHD and eventual teen pregnancy got in the way of that. But she loves animals, she relates the best to dogs, and she was firm in her want to work with them for the rest of her life.

So at nineteen, with a fresh baby in a sling around her back, she started up a dog-walking business. Now she employs people under her (and still walks dogs of her own accord)

She's a rough soul, blunt and to the point, but loves her kids with her whole heart.

Hana Age: 20 Occupation: Student (veterinary science) and dog trainer

Hana often feels like the only person in her family who takes life seriously. Her mother is full of life, living impulsively and on the edge. And her little brother refuses to take his epilepsy seriously, instead choosing to ignore signs of it in favour of roughhousing with his friends.

She balances working as a dog trainer, after years of experience with her mother's business, and studying to become a vet, hoping to one day open a clinic that treats and trains medical assistant dogs, like Akamaru.

Having grown up close to (and eventually crushing on) Itachi, Hana still doesn't know whether to believe that he did what they say he did or not.

Kiba Age: 15 (birthday July 7th, turned 15 before the school year started) Occupation: Student, occasionally helps with Tsume's dog-walking business

Kiba was only five when he had his first tonic-clonic seizure, and it rapidly became something he had frequently. With medication it came mostly under control, but in his early teens it started to get harder and harder to keep on top of, and now he has a medical alert dog, Akamaru, who can tell when he starts having pre-symptoms and has him lie down.

Unfortunately for Akamaru, Kiba has other priorities. He takes after his mother in not taking life too seriously, and often favours just getting on with his day, rather than pause to rest when needed.

Shibi Age: 42 Occupation: Entomology professor (specialising in beetles)

Shibi, contrary to popular belief, has always been a very family-oriented man. When his sister died, he and his wife took in her son Torune without question -- and when his wife died shortly after his son Shino was born, he wasted no time in ensuring he could work from home and balance being a sole parent along with his career.

He, along with the rest of his family, has fairly poor vision along with light sensitivity, and so he wears prescription sunglasses most of the time. This also helps him avoid eye contact.

Shibi would stop at nothing to help his sons succeed in a world that isn't made for them.

Torune: Age: 20 Occupation: Student (entomology and medicine, focusing on venomous insects and treatments for their stings)

Torune has no memories of his biological parents, but he doesn't mind that so much. Shibi stood in for them and cared for him when nobody else could, and he got a little brother out of the deal, too.

Following in Shibi's footsteps in a lot of ways, Torune found a love for insects at a young age, and found himself drawn to the macabre side of poisons and venom that came along with them. Being autistic, along with the rest of his little family, he found it easy to lose himself in his study.

Torune was in the same year and classes as Hana, Fu, and Itachi growing up, and was shocked along with the rest of his classmates when Itachi did what he did.

Shino Age: 14 (birthday January 21st) Occupation: Student

Shino was lucky enough to make friends with Kiba at a fairly young age, and Hinata joined their little neurospicy crew a year or so later. Having someone by his side that was brave and headstrong made it a lot easier for Shino to exist in his quiet little shell, and while he frequently did have big emotions, they were mostly contained to whatever he could express using his AAC.

He's definitely gotten better at it though, and as his circle of friends has grown, so has his ability to communicate -- and his ability to recognise and act on his feelings.

Now, with a crush having entered the picture, Shino is going to do his best to make himself understood. Without Kiba's help.

#naruto #fanfic #profiles #inuzuka #tsume #hana #kiba #aburame #shibi #torune #shino

[layenacreates]

First Day

Hi everyone! I am Layena and this is my first official fanfic that I have ever publish! I hope you guys like it!

Summary: Your first day at Hogwarts doesn’t go as planned when you bump into a stranger who has a mouth that spews out words clearly laced with venom and self-importance. Y/N bumps into Draco and shows him she’s not one to be messed with.

The clicking of heels was all that could be heard about the halls of Hogwarts at the dawning hours. Nervously, you pulled at the hem of your skirt to try to shift it lower, anything to keep your hands occupied. You had taken special care that early morning to put together your outfit, determined to impress your future professors and administrative staff alike. A black, long-sleeved shirt neatly tucked into your pale-yellow striped skirt. The yellow in the skirt was a nod to your house, Hufflepuff. Your pride yourself with the thought that you were a Hufflepuff. Although the less flashy house, you knew in your heart it was where you belonged.

As your roamed about the halls looking for Professor Dumbledore’s office your wandering mind began to worry.

What if I can’t find his office and end up getting lost, you fumed in your head.

“I’ll be the laughingstock and I haven’t even started school”, you mumbled under your breath.

Your position was odd to say the least. Most students who became aware of their magical talents would promptly beginning their education at Hogwarts, but not you. Instead, your mother, a muggle, and your father, a pure-blood wizard, decided to keep you at home. You attended muggle school during the day while at night and honestly at any free moment, your father would teach you magic. This practice although uncommon, worked in your favor. You were able to grow up away from the magical realm, away from prying eyes, and enjoy a muggle life but had a big secret. You felt like Hannah Montana, having the best of both worlds.

It felt like you had become like Peter Parker, Percy Jackson, and Alina Starkov all in one day when your family revealed to you their secret. You were a magical being and you could use learn to use it. Who didn’t want to live out a secret life where they could do magic? Every summer, when other kids went off to camp or lazed about the house you surrounded yourself with books and learned from the ground up. You were talented and you knew that but you also knew the best way to really grow was to practice and perfect every spell and potion you read about.

Your father was pleased that you had taken such an interested in wizardry. So, he came to the decision it to enroll you into Hogwarts when your turned 15, the summer before school started. He had called you down one day to discuss how you had progressed in your studies. He had informed you that you had kept up with the learnings at Hogwarts and had even surpassed in Charms and Transfiguration. He brought the subject up lightly about how you would benefit more if your were surrounded by others your age, studying the same subjects. To this you instantly frowned. Not out of repulsion but uncertainty. You had spent years studying on your own and with your father as your only mentor. If your father was insinuating you attend Hogwarts, would it really benefit you? You study method that has been cultivated over years, could you really change it?

But on the other side, you mused, you would be able to go and say goodbye to math.

You almost laughed out loud when you remembered your hatred of math. Precalcus hadn’t been kind to you and you received your first B in all of high school because of it. In the back of your head although it sounded nice it wasn’t enough to lead you away from everything you known. Your family and friends, could you really say goodbye?

You took a while to think about it since it wasn’t an easy decision, but you began to look at it in a way that seemed like an adventure, it was hard to refuse. You had always wanted to explore the magical realm. The stories your father had told you about Hogwarts and Diagon Alley. You were enraptured about the thought of making your own memories there with new people, who you hoped you could call friends. After enough musing and finally placing your foot down, you decided to fill out the paperwork and applied to transfer to Hogwarts.

Today you would be taking an entrance exam in but first you need to introduce yourself to Professor Dumbledore and then he said he would lead you to the Great Hall to take the tests.

As you were recalling the events that lead you to this very moment you didn’t realize the person turning the corner of the hall. Bumping into what felt like a cold wall you felt yourself being pushed back, almost stumbling on to the other floor. Luckily it wasn’t a full-on collision, which would have sent you tumbling back. Once you regain your footing you began to look up to apologize but your breath caught in your throat. Standing in front of you what you could have sworn to be the Adonis of your time. His pale complexion, bright blue eyes, and strong jawline sent your pulse racing. For a brief second you couldn’t find a fault in him as your eyes roamed his face until he spoke.

“Hey! What on earth do you think you’re doing”, he accused loudly. He brought a hand up to his jaw as if trying to erase the mark that was beginning to form. Although your attention really should have been to answer his question, you couldn’t help your eyes from following the graceful movements of his hands.

What the hell? Focus now, you silently screamed in your head.

This wasn’t like you. You normally quickly apologized, explained what happened, and then look for any opening to leave the embarrassing situation so you could properly freak out for being such a clutz. But now you wear opening staring at a stranger.

Swallowing you quickly drew in a breath and opened your mouth to speak. But the stranger had a different idea. He drew his hand from his chin a snapped a finger in your face.

“What? Did hitting your head really knock out your brain,” he whispered with a smirk.

Ayo hold up-

“And what? Did our little bump knock out your manners or you are always this sweet” you whispered back, mockery dripping with every world.

Aw fuck, you screamed silently in your head, eyes closing, I didn’t mean to say that.

How did you lose your cool?

But where in the world did this guy find the nerve to say something like that to her. Steeling yourself, you realized this was the first of many classmates you would meet considering he was wearing a Hogwarts uniform, you had to make a decent impression while also giving him a piece of your mind.

“First off it was an ACCIDENT,” you said in his face, “I was distracted while I was on my way to Dumbledore’s office. I am sorry and meant no harm.”

The smirk that previously graced his face, what a face it was, was gone and replaced with a small sneer. The sneer pulled at his face and allowed you a small glimpse of his teeth. Shiny, pearly white. Of course. Perfect.

“Maybe you don’t deserve to be here if you can’t even walk properly!”

“Maybe you need to learn a little respect”, you shouted back, your arms rising to land on your hips.

Seriously, what was with this guy and his pompous attitude? Probably a pure-blood, you thought, Dad did say to watch out for his kind since they aren’t especially nice to anyone who isn’t in their little club.

“And what?,” he grimanced, “ are you offering lessons?” As he talked he slowly started to walk towards you. A physically push to show he was adding on pressure to his words. If he thought he was scaring you..well he was clearly wrong, it only served to be able to take a better look at him.

Making your heart pump even louder in your ears. Dark grey eyes like thunderclouds threatened to wash you away the more you stared into his eyes.

Cocking his head to one side, the stranger with too perfect everything hummed and spoke, “Now that you have learned your lesson,” he pointed with his chin towards the opposite of the hall, from where you had came from, “ leave and never come back.”

Regaining your sense from his little speech, you realized what had been murmuring through his head. He thought you were scared shitless out of your mind and that the fear he was trying to drive into you would make you run away.

Hmph please, you mocked, is that all this guy’s got?

Thinking to yourself, you realized you couldn’t do much in this situation. It would look bad on you, your family, and house if you got expelled for kicking this guy’s ass. Plus you didn’t want to use violence as the first resort. So you settled for a more roundabout way to shut this Adonis-look alike up.

Relaxing your body and letting a small smirk settle upon your face, you began to stalk towards the handsome stranger. In response, his smile dropped but he remained froze in place.

“Oi! You going to say something,” his eyebrows scrunched together to further confirm his confusion.

Although he was taller than you, your heels gave you an extra advantage which you would need to use to their full extent if your plan was to work.

“Well,” you drawled, his face immediately turned to yours, only a few inches away, “you got quite a mouth on you, don’t you?” To add extra fire to your flames, you licked you lips, watching as his eyes flickered down to watch the movement before you continued.

“Someone should show you what do with it,” you whispered with a wink.

Watching his face morph from confusion to shock was certainly the highlight of your day. His mouth had fallen open and his eyes had widened to reveal his astonishment.

Pulling back, you didn’t think twice before little out a roaring laugh that broke the lingering tension in the air. The sound of your amusement woke the stranger infront of you.

“I-how”, he stuttered, clearly at a loss for words.

Recovering from your outburst, you strained yourself again to level with future classmate. “Aw badge caught your tongue?”

Watching his face grow taunt, you could tell he was battling with himself to say next.

But you didn’t give him a chance.

Pulling away from his personal space, you ran a hand quickly through your hair, a motion of exhaustion.

“Well, this was fun,” you winked at the blonde, “but I’m busy.”

Seeing your exit, you quickly booked it down the long hall. The first opening that you found lead you right where you found an open door which you quickly entered. An empty classroom.

Breathing heavily, you played the scene that just occurred in you mind from every angle. His eyes, lips, cheeks, jaw, eyebrows, hair, nose, everything. You realized you had memorized his face.

A quick flash of deep pools of gray reminded you of the spark you had seen. It almost seemed like a swirl of desire and intrigue. But that couldn’t be possible? This guy seemed like he clearly hated you.

Blushing, you raised a hand to your lips. Maybe you would never feel the sensation of his lips against yours but you had managed to secure the victory of one uping him in.

A feeling of pride washed over you, hey if you could stand up to a rude person like that, these test should be easy- TESTS!

“AW FUCK,” you yelled to yourself, “I’M STILL LOST”.

Back with Draco

Turning around, Draco watched your figure disappear down the hall. Reaching a hand out, as if that would pull you back to him, he realized that his body felt numb. He realized he was still in shock from your words.

He didn’t expect you to be so bold with your words since you had seemed like a practical person when he spoke to you, clearly since you were trying to keep the peace. Peace, now he was finding, was hard to maintained as his mind reiterated your interaction.

His stupid mouth had worked faster than his brain when he had bumped into you, returning to his default settings he used his callous personality before getting a good look at you. He would make sure to be more charming when you saw him next.

Next time, he pondered while staring off in the distance, was it true? Would he see you again?

Your (hair length) (hair color) bounced as you ricocheted off of him. The dawning light had accentuated your features, making you look like an angel in disguise.

Allowing his hand to fall back down to his side, he glanced down at the space you had just occupied. Who are you?

Why did his heart somersault when you first spoke with your melodious voice? A voice that could conquer heaven and hell alike. A voice he wants to hear from dawn to dusk. When you had begun your attack he realized that you had stolen the oxygen from his lungs and enraptured him with just a few pointed words and looks. His heart had jumped into his throat, beating as if it wanted to race into your arms and plead to make him yours.

No. No. NO.

He wasn’t turned on by your display. He wasn’t envisioning your heavenly face in front of him, mere inches away with lips so inviting. He wasn’t remembering the magnetic pull that you emitted, that made him want to race around the halls until he found you and make you pay for the fire that began to emit from his heart. The said fire began in his heart as a small blaze but quickly turned into an inferno as he remembered your words. You got quite a mouth on you, don’t you? Someone should show you what do with it.

He would make you feel the same inferno hell he was feeling right now. He would leave you begging for his touch, for his lips, for him.

“I’ll find you and make you eat your words.”

Your rivalry was on.

Fin.

Hope y'all like it!

#hogwarts #hufflepuff #hufflepuff pride #hufflerin #draco x reader #draco fic #draco malfoy #malfoy #draco malfory x reader #fanfic #draco fuckingmalfoy #draco fanfiction #draco fanart #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine

[linhlotus]

Truce? Ch. 4

The night Harry was released from the hospital wing, he snuck out to sit by the lake. It had been four long days since the quidditch match and he felt like he’d been let out of a terribly small cage. 

Madam Pomfrey had barely let him get up to use the toilet for the past four days without getting in a tizzy. She had stood over him as he forced down his meals and made him drink sleeping draughts every night, giving the nightmares the perfect chance to creep into his mind. He hadn’t woken up screaming again, but he was always drenched and shivering when he resurfaced.

Tonight he was determined to enjoy the cool night air on his face and forget about his stay in the hospital wing. 

Harry pulled off his shoes and dipped his toes in the water, relishing the sharp bite of the cold. 

The frosty grass crackled as someone approached him from behind.

Malfoy sat on the shore next to Harry, shoulders draped in a thick, emerald green cloak.

After a few minutes of silence, the Slytherin decided to speak, his quiet drawl echoing eerily on the surface of the lake. “Are you okay, Potter?”

It was surprising, how soft his voice was, when he wasn’t insulting Harry, how little venom it held. It would be sweet if they hadn’t been enemies since before their first term had even started. 

Despite all the time they had been spending together, Harry still didn’t think he could tell Malfoy the truth. What would he even say? ‘Sorry you feel like that but I don’t really care because we’re not friends.’ No. It was better to lie.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Why was he asking again? Did he really care or was he trying to find a weakness to exploit?

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well, just . . . If . . . Nevermind.” Malfoy sounded disappointed and, maybe, a little sad? 

That couldn’t be right. It had to be a trick of Harry’s imagination. Malfoy didn’t care about his feelings. He couldn’t. 

------

Draco stepped into Potions and saw Potter sitting in his usual seat pouring over his battered copy of their potions book. He felt Crabbe and Goyle waiting for him to take the lead and antagonize the scrawny half-blood. It had been longer than usual since they’d interacted and the other Slytherins were starting to get suspicious.

The pressure was building to do something and he had to keep up his reputation. He pulled back his shoulders, plastered on his meanest smirk, and marched over to Potter. 

“Still got this ratty old thing?” Draco slipped the book off the table and held it up in the air. 

“Looks like Potter is too broke to buy a new book,” he announced loudly, his heart squeezing painfully when Harry —Potter— looked up at him, resignation in his green eyes.

“Give it here, Malfoy,” he sighed.

He had to push through the guilt and do what was necessary. For himself. For the Malfoy name. 

“No. I think I’ll keep it.”

Draco examined the cover of the falling-apart book. It was stained and fading. He honestly didn’t know why Potter didn’t just buy a new one. He had enough money. Did it have sentimental value? 

He felt another stab of guilt at that thought. He didn’t want Potter’s already very unstable mental health to get worse because Draco stole something dear to him. 

He would just have to make it easy for the Griffindor to snatch it back. Or maybe he could bring it to their meeting place that night if he didn't get it back now.

There was no need, it seemed, as the book was slipped out of his hand from behind. 

“Hey!” 

Draco spun to see that Weasley had reached between Crabbe and Goyle to snatch the book back. 

“You little weasel,” he snarled, lip curling.

“If I remember correctly,” Granger chimed in from next to the redhead, “you are the one Professor Moody turned into a rodent.”

She pulled Weasley around the Slytherins and sat next to Harry.

Draco felt his face heat with embarrassment at the memory of his weakness from a mere two years before. Granger was never going to let him live it down. 

He was saved from finding a snarky retort when Professor Slughorn entered the room and called for the class’s attention.

Thank you so, so much to my fantastic betas Charm and Aprilsonata!!

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#drarry fanfiction #lgbtq #sixth year #artist draco #harry is trying to cope with sirius's death #Insomnia #Depression #grief/mourning #Harry Potter has a gay crisis #draco malfoy has a gay crisis #eating disorder #enemies to friends to lovers