Archive of Our Own

⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹

⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹

Arching her back, Ginny gripped the desk behind her with both hands. She flicked her tongue over her bottom lip, rolling her hips as she watched Viktor lean back in his leather office chair, taking another drag of his cigar. 

She loved seeing him like this: focused and completely in control.

His custom-tailored trousers had been undone just enough to free his cock, and she could feel the buckle of his Steffano Ricci belt digging into her thigh as she straddled his lap. His suit jacket was pushed to the side, shirt unbuttoned to expose the gold chain around his neck and the chest hair she loved to feel scratching against her skin. 

He was a fucking vision like this, all stoic excellence. A true work of art, sculpted by the hands of the gods with the sole intent of creating him to be her ruin. But oh, what a vision her executioner painted with his designer suits and the stern set of his jaw. 

Every time he had her like this, it was almost as if she could feel the endless pool of control he seemed to possess flowing into her, dizzying up her mind and turning her into a pliant mess until she was begging for him to overpower her.

Power was, unsurprisingly, prevalent in everything that he did, and this was no exception.

Viktor Aleksandar Krum exuded power. 

Even when his cock was buried to the hilt inside of his wife's cunt, he could remain calm and controlled, letting her have her fun as he sat back, smoking and enjoying the view—until he decided he was ready for the gloves to come off.

For now, he was as stoic and calm as ever, but Ginny knew better than to think it was because she wasn't affecting him. Quite the opposite; sometimes he just liked to make her work for it before he'd take over. 

At present, he had one hand splayed over her stomach, using his thumb and forefinger to spread her pussy lips apart. His eyes were cast firmly downward, hidden under his thick, dark lashes as he watched her cunt swallow his cock with every roll of her hips. 

He was always watching her, studying her. A few years ago, when they’d first begun—when she’d met him at an afterparty following one of her games with the Harpies, and proceeded to drink far too much and sink down onto his cock under the guise of sitting in his lap in a room full of people—his fascination with watching her every move had made her feel too open, too exposed. 

After the next party, when he’d sort of kidnapped her for months on end, she’d felt a bit weak under his ever-present stare.

Now, it only served to inflate her ego, making her feel more alive with every encounter. 

Viktor’s cock flexed inside of her cunt, and she smiled, pushing up with her knees on either side of his thighs to raise herself higher, drawing out the show she so very loved to put on for him as she watched him take another drag. 

Propping his elbow on the arm of the chair, Viktor held the cigar aloft and flicked his eyes up to hers, giving her a single nod. As he turned his attention back to her cunt, she slowly sank back down, gasping as she felt the thick, broad head of his cock nudge against her cervix.

“So very good for me, printsesa,” he praised as smoke curled out of his mouth. “If this is how you plan to thank me every time I buy you a new vacation home, I’ll erect entire cities in your honour.”

(Princess.)



"So romantic.” Ginny planted her hands on his chest, running her fingers over the hard lines of muscle as she rode him harder. 

She could feel her body drawing tight, closing in on itself. Her muscles tensed as her cunt dripped all over his cock, every roll of her hips sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling across the surface of her skin.

“Not yet. Slower, baby girl,” Viktor ordered as he continued to watch her body swallow him. “Take your time.”

“Vik,” she whined, her eyebrows pinching together as she screwed her face up in concentration and tried to wrestle away her impending orgasm. “Don’t be mean.” 

“You prefer when I am mean,” he protested matter-of-factly as he waved his hand. Catching the ashtray he’d summoned, he stamped out the cigar and then levitated it back to the desk before he finally looked up to meet her eyes. 

“Would you like to cum for me, printsesa?” He ran a hand up her stomach to palm her breast. “Tell me what you need.” 

“I need… gods, ” Ginny groaned. “Need you to fuck me, Vik. Please. ” 

“Drŭzh se. I’ve got you,” he murmured. Bringing his hand to her face, he placed his thumb against her bottom lip and dragged it down until she opened her mouth. 

(Hold on.)

With a hum of approval, he banded his arm around her back and rose to his feet to lay her out on the desk before him.

One hand still gripped her chin as he slid his thumb into her mouth. Ginny swirled her tongue over the digit, and Viktor groaned. Pressing his thumb down, he forced her to open wider and spit forcefully into her mouth, then pulled back, allowing another trail of saliva to trickle down onto her waiting tongue.

Ginny whimpered at the act—so degrading, so possessive that she could feel her cunt spasm around his cock. It was one of his calling cards, so to speak. That final reminder of her place before he broke free from his self-imposed leash and tore into her body like he owned it. 

As was his right, because he absolutely owned every inch of her.

She writhed in anticipation of what was to come and tried to roll her hips, desperate for friction, but he gripped her waist and pressed her down against the cool surface of the desk to keep her still as he tapped a finger against her cheek. 

“Swallow,” he commanded. Ginny complied, her throat bobbing. She stuck out her tongue to show him, and his nostrils flared, sending a shiver down her spine. 

“Such a good fucking girl.” 

Viktor bent his head to suck her tongue into his mouth, and then began to move, snapping his hips to set a furious pace as he dragged his mouth down her neck to her chest. His hands were everywhere—running up her thighs, skating over her torso, touching her body in every spot he could reach as he sucked and bit future bruises into her skin, until one hand finally came to rest on her throat and the other tangled in her hair. 

She arched her back, grinning as he tightened his hold on her neck, and he rewarded her with a harsh squeeze of his fingers, causing her to gag. 

“Do you wish to cum for me, printsesa?” Viktor asked as he rose back up, hand still around her neck as he hooked his forearm under her thigh and lifted her arse from the desk, driving into her harder.

“Please,” she begged. “I'll—”

“Fuck!” Viktor exclaimed as the piercing sound of the phone on his desk rang out. He thrust back inside of her once, twice, then stilled, holding a finger to his lips in a warning to be silent as he reached for the receiver.

“What?” he spat. “Za pratkata? Da.”

(About the shipment? Yeah.)

He nodded along to whatever the person on the other end of the line was saying as he turned his attention back to her and began to fuck her again, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he held his finger to his lips once more.

Ginny nodded, pressing her lips together and biting the inside of her cheek. She tried to be quiet—she really did—but when he moved his hand to her arse, lifting her higher as he drove into her so deep that her vision began to tunnel, she lost all control. 

It was barely a noise; the faintest whimper, but she knew she’d fucked up the second he raised an eyebrow at her. 

“I must go,” he said into the phone. “It seems I have a problem to tend to. Twenty minutes?” Viktor rolled his eyes. “Fine. No. Yes. I’ll be there.” 

Ginny winced as he went still inside of her and reached over her head to place the phone back onto its cradle. He brought his face down to hers, running his nose along her jaw before he moved his mouth to her ear.

“Do you lack the ability to follow a simple command, wife?”

“No,” she shook her head as he pulled back, gripping her roughly by the chin to force her eyes to his. “I’m sorry, Vik.” 

“You try so hard to be good for me, yes?” he asked in a tone that, to anyone else, would have appeared sympathetic. Ginny knew better, though. She knew exactly how much he liked to play his little games—craved the moments like this, suspended in uncertainty when she knew he had a trick up his sleeve. 

“I do,” she responded. 

“I know, my love.” He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her slowly as he dragged his cock out of her with a grunt. Breaking the kiss, he straightened, shaking his head as he looked down at her. “It is okay. You just need a reminder, hmmm? Need me to teach you how to behave?” 

“Please?” Ginny pushed up onto her elbows, batting her lashes at him, and then whined as she watched him tuck his cock away and refasten his belt.

“Ohhh,” Viktor cooed in mock-sympathy, reaching between her legs to circle his thumb over her clit. “Is this poor pussy still so hungry for Daddy’s cock?” 

“Yes, gods, Vik, please,” she begged, tilting her hips to try to grind against his hand. He tutted his tongue and pulled away. 

“Please?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Please, Daddy, ” Ginny corrected. “Please let me cum.” 

“I’m afraid we are out of time,” Viktor sighed and looked down at the diamond–encrusted watch on his wrist with a shake of his head, then held his hand out to her. “I have a meeting in fifteen minutes. You’re going to have to come along so we can finish this conversation.”

“Is that my punishment?” Ginny laughed as she let him pull her up to her feet. “I have to sit through one of your boring meetings where everyone yells in Bulgarian and clouds the room with cigar smoke?”

Viktor knelt in front of her and wrapped a hand around her ankle. Guiding her foot to rest on his bended knee, he reached for one of her discarded heels and slipped it back onto her foot. Carefully refastening the ankle strap, he looked up to meet her eyes. 

“Surely you know me better than to believe you will get off so easily, printsesa.” 

⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹

The man to Viktor’s left looked angry as he argued with the man sitting across from him. Neither of the men were anyone she recognised, but that was par for the course—Viktor had several dealings under the umbrella of the family business, and her attending a meeting was an extremely rare occurrence—saved only for the most extreme of circumstances. 

It wasn’t that Vik didn’t confide in her, because of course he did. Sure, there were some things it simply wasn’t safe for her to know, but he was honest where he could be, and she appreciated that. 

Besides, she didn’t need to meet each and every one of the likely hundreds of people he did business with. Despite his role as the head of the family and the events that sometimes came along with it, he kept their inner circle small—a safety measure. 

Outside of his family, including Ivan, his cousin, who sat at the opposite end of the table from Vik, his younger brother Georgi, two down to the right, and a few of his closest friends within the organisation, he never liked to mix business with pleasure. 

A king was only as strong as his queen, he would say, when she asked why he confided in her, where most men in his position wouldn’t. A king’s role is to protect his queen from those who wish to see them dethroned, and keeping her in the loop helps to achieve that. 

It was all flowery, half-nonsensical, but that was typical of him. Veiled ways of explaining things when he meant something to the effect of ‘I’m a mafia boss and that sort of makes people want to kill me, so it’d be a dick move if I dragged my wife into the middle of it.’

Chivalrous, her husband was. 

But he was also a cruel, evil dick, and if not for the pesky little fact that the majority of the men in the room were Muggles, she would have whipped out her wand and hit him with a Bat Bogey Hex again for this latest bit of cruelty. 

Viktor flexed his cock inside of her as if he’d read her thoughts, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to force her face to remain impassive as she stared down at her phone, pretending to scroll through social media—though she couldn’t have recounted a single post she’d seen in the last twenty minutes. 

Twenty agonising minutes, impaled in his lap, and yet Viktor remained completely unaffected. He sipped his drink, argued and issued commands in his native tongue as if she wasn't warming his cock while her cunt grew wetter by the minute, undoubtedly soaking his trousers. 

She wanted to be good—she really, truly did—but he kept adjusting just so and flexing his cock inside of her as he trailed the fingers of one hand up her thigh beneath the skirt of her dress. He was teasing her, over and over, scraping his nails lightly over her skin and brushing the tips of his fingers through the neatly trimmed patch of curls between her legs, coming so close to where she needed to be touched before he’d move his hand back down. 

His other hand alternated between taking long drags of his cigarette and sipping a glass of scotch—both of which he would occasionally press to her lips without a word. 

For all the hell he was putting her through, Ginny couldn’t deny that a part of her revelled in the thrill of it all—and she didn’t only mean the fact that there were nine other men in the room who had no idea their boss was currently buried so deep inside of her cunt that she could feel her stomach bulging slightly around the shape of him. 

No, the biggest thrill was the look in their eyes when they watched the way she behaved for him. He didn’t address her; didn’t acknowledge her at all, and the other men seemed to understand without being told that they were not to speak to or of her, either. 

He simply sat and handled his meeting, pausing once in a while to silently command she drink or smoke in a display of power that widened eyes and caused men to shift in their chairs—some with discomfort, but some with clearly a little too much interest. 

Viktor seemed to notice the last part at the same time she did. He leaned forward, shoving her along with him as he glared at a man midway down the table to the right who had been leering at her a bit too openly. 

“Ako si si zagubil predstava za ochnite yabŭlki, Brankov, s udovolstvie shte izvadya nozha si i shte ti pomogna da gi namerish,” he said in the cold tone that always sent a shiver down Ginny’s spine. A blunt threat that he would no doubt see through, she was sure of that.

(If you have lost track of your eyeballs, Brankov, I will gladly take out my knife and help you find them.)

(If you have lost track of your eyeballs, Brankov, I will gladly take out my knife and help you find them.)

“No, Sir. I—” Brankov’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and cast a nervous glance back to Ginny before he switched languages. “Prosto mi e lyubopitno zashto sŭprugata ti bi prisŭstvala na podobna sreshta.”

(I'm just curious why your wife would attend such a meeting.) 

(I'm just curious why your wife would attend such a meeting.)

“Are you insinuating that my wife does not belong in any room she sees fit to enter, Mr Brankov?” Viktor challenged. The sudden switch to English was a warning sign Ginny did not miss. She stiffened, shifting on Viktor’s lap, but he gripped her thigh to keep her still as he continued, “Would you not allow your own wife to be at your side or in your lap any time she saw fit?”

“If my wife looked like that, I wouldn’t bring her out in public at all.” The man laughed at his own joke, then went silent as he realised nobody else seemed to find him funny. 

Oh shit, Ginny mouthed, earning her a snort from Ivan. 

“Please, do inform me. How does my wife look?” Viktor urged in a voice far too kind. 

“I just… well, I, erm… I only meant she is a beautiful woman, sir. You’re a very lucky man,” Brankov stuttered out. Ginny relaxed. A compliment Viktor could handle. 

For as possessive as he was, his ego always seemed to swell a bit when other men acknowledged what he had, so she thought, then, that the issue would be resolved. 

Unfortunately, Brankov seemed incapable of letting it stop there. He opened his mouth and promptly inserted his foot as he added, “Lucky in more ways than one, really. Having a woman who looks like that, and who knows her place enough to keep her mouth shut? You’ve got it made.”

Uh-ohhhh, Ivan mouthed, his eyes twinkling as he grinned at Ginny. She bit back a smile of her own, swiping her thumb over the screen as she pretended to be lost in an ad about skincare. 

Viktor tutted his tongue and locked eyes with Georgi, jutting his chin out. Georgi gave a single nod, and Vik very deliberately brought both hands down beneath the table, grabbing Ginny by the hips and lifting her off of his cock with a tell-tale grunt. 

Her man and his incessant need to establish dominance. 

He just had to make sure everyone knew what he’d been doing—or, moreover, what she had been letting him do to her while they all sat obliviously by and talked shop. 

Viktor settled her onto his thighs, leaning closer to block himself from view as he tucked his cock away and slowly refastened his belt. Finally, he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her jaw, just below her ear. 

“Wait for me in my office, printsesa.” 

At the whispered command, Ginny stood and adjusted her skirt, waving goodbye as she slipped from the room, thankful for the chance to escape before things got bloody.

⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹

Ginny hit send on the message she’d been tapping out to confirm lunch plans with Pansy, who was in Varna for the week along with her husband. Viktor had connected Neville with a few contacts for his more… below-board plant needs, so the couple came to Bulgaria every other month, and she and Pansy always got together for a day of lunch and shopping, followed by drinks while Nev was stuck in meetings. 

She turned in the office chair, planting her feet on Viktor’s desk as she opened her email app and replied to her mother to reassure her they’d be port-keying in for their monthly weekend at the Burrow—which they never missed, but Molly never failed to check the week prior, all the same. 

Going back to the Burrow was always the highlight of the month. 

Back when Viktor had asked her father for her hand in marriage, he had tried to use the conversation with Arthur to convince the older man to accept a new home in Bulgaria, as well as a handsome sum of money. 

Arthur had been offended and refused. 

Viktor smoothly explained that it was customary in his culture—a lie, but one Arthur had accepted, if only because he likely believed it, and didn’t want to offend his future son-in-law by showing disrespect to his heritage, or something of the sort. 

Her parents had been firm, though. They kept the Burrow, and only travelled to the coastal property near Silven when they wanted to take a holiday or spend a few days with the Krums. 

Ginny was glad for it, if she were honest. She couldn’t have imagined what it would have felt like if they’d gotten rid of the Burrow. 

She loved being back in her childhood home. Whether she was sitting at the table helping shuck green beans from her mother’s garden while she caught up with Hermione and Bill, watching George goof off with Theo while Harry pretended to be annoyed, riling Percy up about his latest legislative battle with the Wizengamot, listening to Charlie tell stories of the reserve or playing Snap with Ron, it was always nice to step away from the glamour of their life in the city and reconnect with her roots. 

And, it was the one time a month she got to see Viktor trade out the tailored suits or expensive linens for jeans and a sweatshirt.

Sometimes he even stripped off his shirt and donned a backwards ballcap when they’d head out to the field behind the orchard for a pick-up game of Quidditch, so really, Weasley Weekend was a win on all fronts. 

Just as she closed her email, the door opened, and she looked up to see Viktor enter the office. His suit jacket was nowhere to be found, and he’d rolled up the sleeves of his crisp, white button-down to reveal his toned, tattooed forearms. 

Ginny held back a teasing remark about how much of a slag he was for the sleeves thing. If the hard set of his jaw wasn’t warning enough that he wasn’t in the mood to joke around, the blood streaked across the front of his shirt got the message through just fine. 

“Did you kill him?” she asked as she set her phone down and stood up.

“Does it matter?” he replied as he reached down to remove his belt. The subtle swish of the leather sliding through the loops set off that familiar tugging sensation deep within Ginny’s core as she shook her head in response. 

Did it matter? 

Maybe to someone, somewhere, but certainly not to her at the present time.

“Undress,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” she responded.

Following his instruction, she reached for the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head, carefully laying it over the arm of his chair before she bent at the waist to unbuckle the strap of her heels. 

“Leave them. You’ll need the height.” 

“Yes, sir,” Ginny repeated. 

“Aht. One more time?” Viktor asked, raising an eyebrow as he stepped around the desk and trailed a finger over her collarbone. 

“Yes, Daddy.” 

“There’s my good girl.” He tweaked her nipple, causing her to gasp before he nudged her shoulder and turned her to face the desk. Placing one hand between her shoulder blades, he bent her until her chest was pressed flush against the cool wood. 

Not needing instruction to know what would come next, Ginny crossed her arms over the small of her back, and he hummed in approval as he looped the belt around both of her wrists and pulled it tight. 

“You have my permission to cum this time,” he said in a tone far too casual as she felt his cock nudge against her entrance. “You earned one by listening so well when I told you to leave.” 

“Just the one?” she asked. 

“Da,” he confirmed. “So you’d better make it count.” 

He thrust inside of her without warning, so hard and swift that she felt as if she were being cleaved in half. Wrapping one hand around her bound wrists, he tangled the other in her hair and pressed her face to the wood.

Snapping his hips, he fucked her with reckless abandon. The hard edge of the desk cut into her hips with every thrust, and even with the heels, her feet raised from the floor every time he slammed back inside of her.

“Gods, Vik—Daddy. Fuck, it feels like you’re going to split me in half. Please don’t stop,” she begged desperately, her voice thick with need.

“Yeah?” he rasped. “Maybe I will. Da te razkŭsam i da te nakaram da mi blagodarish za tova.”

(Tear you apart and make you thank me for it.)

He tugged on the belt and released his hold on her hair to slide an arm underneath her, lifting her from the desk to crush her back against his chest. Gripping her shoulder, he set a brutal pace, and within seconds, she could feel her body soaring to oblivion. 

“Come on, baby,” he urged, lowering his head to drag his teeth along the slope of her shoulder. “Give it to me, printsesa. Be a good girl and cum on Daddy’s cock so I can fill you up.”

“Oh, fuck,” Ginny groaned—a deep, guttural sound—as she tumbled over the edge. Her cunt clamped down around him like a vice as her entire body locked up, then melted in his arms. She came, hard and fast, soaking her thighs, and he sank his teeth into her neck, biting so hard she was nearly certain he’d broken the skin. 

“Good girl,” he repeated. “Soak Daddy’s cock while I break this perfect pussy, malka kurva.”

(Little whore.)

“Please.” She squeezed her eyes shut and let her head loll back against his shoulder. Her knees began to shake, her thighs still trembling, and she felt as if she was about to collapse. 

Viktor—attuned to her needs as he always was—took a step back and sank into his chair, releasing his hold on her wrists to grab her by the hips. 

He lifted her and slammed her back down once, then twice, before she felt him begin to throb inside of her. 

Spent and breathless, she went nearly limp in his arms as he filled her. He waited a beat, brushing her sweat-soaked hair out of her face to kiss the corner of her mouth, and then withdrew his cock. 

Ginny whined at the loss, but he merely chuckled, turning her in his arms as he rose from the chair and crossed the room in three easy strides. He settled onto the low, velvet couch nestled beneath the bank of windows to the left and stretched out, positioning her on top of him so that she was sprawled across his stomach and chest. 

Sliding a hand between them to press against her stomach, he whispered the contraceptive charm. He never felt like slowing down in the moment to cast it, but was usually pretty good about remembering after they were done. 

Even if he hated it. 

But she wasn’t ready yet. Ginny hadn’t decided if she wanted kids at all, and while she knew he’d love nothing more than to see his wife swollen with his heirs, the last thing he would do is leave her unprotected or take her right to choose.

Ginny shivered as the charm washed over her skin, then let out a sleepy little yawn. He laughed lowly, running his hand through her hair as she wiggled on top of him, burrowing closer to his warmth.

“Sleep,” he murmured. “I’ll wake you in time to go meet Pansy.” 

“Wait.” Ginny lifted her head, furrowing her brow as she glared at him. “Are you cloning my phone again?” 

“Sleep,” he repeated. “It is not the time for silly questions.”

“Stalker,” she grumbled.

⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹

Viktor turned the chair toward the windows lining the wall of his office, looking out across the city as he lit another cigarette, his free hand loosening his tie. The day had been a long one. He hated when he had to sit behind a desk and play CEO for the family logistics business, and much preferred to choose his own hours and do whatever he pleased, whenever he wanted. 

Alas, the optics were better if he were seen in the office once or twice every few weeks. The days weren’t all bad; he just had to talk to a few people, hold a bullshit meeting or two, and—more often than not—tend to his wife when she came along. 

After Ginny had awoken from her nap and gone home to clean up before her lunch—read: before she and Pansy tore apart the fashion district with his Black Card—he’d sat through a conference call, pretended to care about some filing system issue, and then promptly retreated to his office to bide his time until he left. 

Taking a sip of his drink, he stretched his legs out before him, admiring the view as he lost himself in his thoughts. He had just begun to ponder whether or not he should take a nap when someone knocked on the door. 

Go fucking figure.  

“Vlizam!” he called out as he turned his chair back toward the desk and watched the offending knocker enter the room. 

(Come in.)

“Anev,” Viktor greeted the man. He liked Anev. He was a nervous man; perhaps, one who hadn’t quite realised what he was getting into when he married Viktor’s cousin Bilyana, but once he’d been offered the job of Viktor’s executive assistant, he’d risen to the task just fine. 

“Gospodine,” Anev greeted him back, bowing his head in a display of respect for a moment. “I’m afraid I just received a call about your wife.” 

(Sir.)

"Oh? And what has Mrs Krum done now?"

"It seems she's been kidnapped, sir," Anev responded.

"Again? Tazi prokleta usta." Viktor rolled his eyes and tipped the crystal tumbler back, downing the rest of his drink before he stood and reached for his jacket. "Bring the car around. Tell Nikov to figure out where she is, then have Georgi and Ivan meet me downstairs."

(That fucking mouth.)

"Right away, sir."

Viktor turned to face the window, allowing a singular, brief moment to collect himself.

It always soothed him to take in the sight of the city spread out before him. 

His city.

When he retired from Quidditch and took up the mantle as the head of the family, he anticipated many things. 

Violence. 

Blood. 

War.  

Foolishly, he assumed there would also be times of peace, lulls in the chaos. And there could be, if only his wife would stop running her mouth to the wrong people.

He wasn’t sure what had happened, though it hardly mattered. 

There were men who sought to dethrone him; men who fancied themselves capable of using his queen as a pawn. And, on more than one occasion, there were men who simply found his wife to be unpalatable. While other wives stood behind their men, cowered under displays of power, and behaved weakly, his wife was polarising. 

He knew that. 

And he loved her all the more for it. 

Ginevra Krum, nee Weasley, was a force to be reckoned with. She had survived a year of school under the Carrows, fought a war, dominated the Quidditch industry, endured months imprisoned on a remote island without losing her fire, and the list went on. She may have left the Harpies after her third season—a choice he never asked for, but one she simply decided was the next logical step toward what she wanted for their lives—but his witch was still a Chaser in her blood. 

She’d never quite been able to hold herself back if she wanted to go after something, and had certainly never learned how to back down, so, needless to say, her mouth tended to write cheques his arse had to swoop in to cash.

Most women in their world would be afraid to go toe-to-toe with the men of the family or their associates, for fear of how they may pay for such an action. Ginny never did care about someone else’s power, though.

And why should she, when she knows he'll come to save her every time?

⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹

“This is Nureyev’s yacht,” Georgi remarked as the speedboat neared the larger vessel. Viktor nodded and cut the engine, looking back over his shoulder to ensure there was no unwanted company to contend with before he cancelled the disillusionment charm and pointed his wand to the rope ladder, levitating it to anchor it over the side of the ship. 

“I’m not surprised,” Viktor sighed and stood, cracking his neck before he drew his pistol and gestured toward the ladder. “Ivan, get to the helm and take over. Georgi, sweep the areas below deck.” 

“You good up top on your own?” Georgi asked—unnecessarily so, but Vik appreciated the sentiment all the same.

“I’ll manage.” Viktor shot him a grin over his shoulder and reached for a rung on the ladder to hoist himself up, adding, “Try not to kill anyone who looks like they might be crew. If this was planned, they may have a full staff on board. Actually… don’t kill anyone you can avoid. Either of you. Let me assess the situation and ask some questions first.” 

“Ugh. Ne si zabaven,” Ivan protested with a groan. 

(You're not fun.)

Viktor ignored the protest with a roll of his eyes and continued to climb. Reaching the top, he swung himself over the railing and immediately rose to his full height, one hand smoothing the front of his suit jacket as the other flicked off the safety and raised his gun. 

His wand was holstered on his arm beneath his shirt, accessible with a quick snap of his finger, but Viktor often found he preferred the old ways. The Krum family hadn’t always been magical. They were considered purebloods on a technicality now, but not to the ‘always pure’ level of the Sacred 28. 

The family business existed long before his grandfather, a Muggleborn wizard, came into the world, so there were traditions, standards and expectations to contend with. A handful of his cousins were hot-headed, quick to use their magic, but Viktor preferred to handle things on his own first—though he wasn’t above a wave of the wand when the situation called for it. 

Georgi, Ivan, and Nikov—his youngest brother, who handled matters of security—shared his sentiment, which is exactly why he kept them close. 

As he made his way down one of the corridors toward the staircase that would take him below deck, he heard a grunt, followed by the sound of a silenced pistol.

“Za boga, Ivan, toĭ kaza da ne ubivame vseki, kogoto vidim!” 

(For the gods' sake, Ivan, he said not to kill everyone we see!)

“Oh, fuck off, Geo. Toĭ me pogledna mrŭsno.”

(He gave me a dirty look.)

“Perhaps it was a look of sympathy. He saw your ugly mug and felt bad for you,” Georgi cooed in mock sympathy.

“Shut up and worry about your own job, bitch boy,” Ivan huffed. “Let’s go.”

Viktor let out a low laugh and peered around the corner before he moved toward the staircase as the sound of their hushed argument faded.

Idiots, the both of them. But they were irreplaceable, the best at what they did, so he’d allow them their idiocy. 

⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹

Viktor wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he reached the upper deck of the vessel—but he should have anticipated the sight before him exactly as it was. 

His wife was lying back on a lounge chair, twirling her wand in her hand as a pistol lay on her thigh, her face turned toward the sun as her yellow sunglasses—some over-priced brand she’d insisted on purchasing in every colour—shielded her eyes from view. 

On the deck, next to her chair, was the body of a man he recognised, even face down. Another man had bled out a few metres to the right, and there were a few chairs knocked askew as if there had been a struggle, but Ginny looked entirely unaffected. 

“Hi, Daddy.” She grinned and pushed the sunglasses up to rest atop her head. “Took you long enough.” 

“Yeah, well, you left your phone at the restaurant, so it took me some time to enact the magical trace,” he replied in a casual tone as he raised a foot to nudge the body furthest from her, then stepped to the other, crouching down to check the man’s pulse. 

“Not dead?” he raised an eyebrow in surprise, and Ginny shrugged. 

“Close to it, but I hit him with a medical stasis charm before he could bleed out entirely, in case you and the boys needed to question him.” She looked down at the gun in her lap and picked it up, turning it over in her hand before she added, “Would you believe these idiots didn’t even think to check me for a weapon?” 

“I can believe that.” Viktor moved toward her, resting a hand on her cheek and running his thumb over her cheekbone, swiping away a stray drop of blood. “Most men in the life would not trust their wives and daughters with a weapon. They find women to be too erratic and emotional, so they put them at risk by leaving them weakened.” 

“By leaving them easier to control,” Ginny corrected with an eyeroll. 

“That, too,” he agreed. 

“And you? Do you find me to be erratic?” She looked up at him, tilting her head as a slow grin spread across her face. “Emotional? Do you worry that I’ll… what is it they fear, exactly? That we’ll get a period cramp and shoot someone in a fit of hormonal rage?”

“It is likely exactly that, yes,” Viktor said simply. “Mŭzh, koĭto ne znae kak da se spravi sŭs silna zhena, chesto shte se strakhuva ot neya.”

(A man who does not know how to handle a strong woman will often be afraid of her.)

“Are you afraid of me?” Ginny asked innocently as she raised the gun, pointing the muzzle toward his chest. “I could kill you right now, you know.” 

“You could,” he agreed. “I kakva chest bi bilo za men, ako litseto ti beshe poslednoto, koeto vidyakh.”

(And what an honour it would be for me, if yours were the last face I saw.)

He reached down, wrapping his hand around her wrist, and sank to his knees as he guided the gun to his temple. “Are you going to kill me, printsesa?” 

“Not if you behave.” Ginny smirked and raised a heeled foot to his chest, nudging him back to sit on his haunches. Blood soaked through his trousers, likely staining his shins, but it barely registered. 

Ginny turned to face him more fully, cocking the gun as her spare hand lifted the hem of her dress, and he grinned, pressing his head closer to the gun. 

She looked like a goddess before him. 

A fierce, unyielding warrior with blood streaked across her face and neck, staining the front of the dress that had probably cost him some exorbitant amount of money. 

And, clearly, she was still trigger-high, riding out the adrenaline of her afternoon, so if his wife wanted to pretend she was in charge for a few minutes, he’d happily indulge her. 

“How may I serve you, printsesa?” he asked, gazing up into her eyes. Ginny smiled triumphantly, nodding toward her lap as she reached behind herself. He waited for further instruction while he watched her adjust a cushion from the lounge chair and lean back, situating herself, before she moved the gun to press against the top of his head. 

“Make me come,” she ordered. “And I’ll let you live.” 

“So gracious,” he hummed. Licking his lips, he reached for her hips and pulled her arse to the edge of the chair. Snapping the fingers of his left hand, he drew his wand down into his palm and vanished her knickers before he snapped again to re-holster it and lowered his head. 

She was already visibly soaked for him, swollen with need and candy pink, and his mouth began to water at the sight of her. Leaning closer, he met her eyes once more as his face hovered a bit above her centre, and Ginny bit her lip in anticipation. 

Viktor opened his mouth and spit, letting the saliva roll off his tongue and trickle down to her cunt, then dipped his head as he began to feast. He wrapped both hands around her thighs and licked her in broad strokes from back to front, swirling his tongue around her arsehole, dragging up through her dripping heat, and then sucked her clit into his mouth. 

“Oh, fuck,” Ginny shrieked as he began to suck the sensitive nub, rolling his tongue and hollowing his cheeks. He felt the pressure of the gun loosen, so he shot a hand up, wrapping it around her wrist and pressing it back against his skin as he looked up to watch her face. 

She had her head thrown back, one elbow holding her up as she arched her back and grinded her cunt against his face, and he thought, then, that this was exactly how he wanted to go out—by her hand, with his face buried between her legs, because there was not a single thing in this world his wife wanted that he wouldn’t see her receive, even if what she desired was his very life. 

He released the suction to lap at her clit, then flattened his tongue over her and began to rub in the exact rhythm he knew would be her undoing. It worked like a charm, as it always did, and she came hard, soaking his face as she screamed his name. 

Viktor sat back on his heels once more, wiping a hand over his mouth, and reached for the gun, finding no resistance as he took it from her hand. He pressed the muzzle to her chest over her heart, and Ginny’s breath hitched in response. 

“Every time you run that pretty little fucking mouth, I have to swoop in and save you or clean up your messes. When are you going to learn to follow the rules, nakhalnik?"

(brat.)

"When are you going to stop saving me?" Ginny raised an eyebrow defiantly, and he laughed as he turned the safety back on and tossed the gun to the side.

"Never," Viktor replied honestly.

"There's your answer, then. Now help me wash this blood off.” Ginny moved to sit up, but he clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"She thinks she is in charge, hmmm?"

"Am I not?" She raised an eyebrow, and he conceded with a nod. 

“Any time you wish. Though we both know how rare that is. Now, tell me what happened today.”

“Pansy and I were at lunch when I overheard your name, so I listened in on the conversation a few tables from us. They were celebrating the fact that they’d intercepted a shipment and were on their way to move it to Sevastopol. Anyway, when I picked up what was going on, I… did some stuff,” Ginny said with a shrug. 

“Vagueness will not earn you a reward, printsesa,” Viktor warned. “What stuff?’

“Fine,” she huffed with an eyeroll. “I made a scene. I told Pansy to go on to the shops without me, and paid a waiter to stage an argument with me over my credit card, where I pretended not to understand Bulgarian and then pulled the ‘hysterical wife name-drops her big, scary husband’ card. Went to the washroom and waited for the idiots to grab me.”

“Foolish, reckless witch,” Viktor groaned. “You could have been hurt. Why didn’t you call me?” 

“Oh, please.” Ginny rolled her eyes again as she waved a hand dismissively. “There were two of them. I have a wand and a gun. I heard how stressed you were over the missing shipment during the meeting, and I wanted to help. Besides, you had a busy day. Is it not my job to help my husband carry the load?” 

She sat up straighter and leaned in to kiss his temple, and Viktor sighed as he felt his anger begin to ebb. 

“So helpful,” he murmured. “But still, you have to stop meddling, lyubov.” 

(love.)

“But I’m bored,” Ginny protested with a whine. Before he could respond, Viktor heard a noise to his left and reached for the gun he’d stashed in his waistband as he whipped around, then relaxed instantly. 

“There isn’t anyone else on the ship, but you’re going to want to see what we found downstairs, shef,” Georgi informed him. 

“Do you need me to handle cleanup?” Ivan asked, waving at Ginny before he gestured toward the bodies. 

“The one in the grey is still alive—barely,” she answered. 

“Clean up the other, and the one below deck. After that, Ivan, you can take this one back to the hole and ask your questions,” Viktor said as he rose to his feet. Ivan rocked back on his heels—always a bit too excited for the chance to torture someone, but hey, he never failed to get the job done. 

“Georgi, you call Nikov. Tell him to send the cleaners, and have him bring a crew out to get the guns off of my wife’s new yacht,” he continued.

“Wait, I get to keep it?” Ginny asked excitedly. She scrambled to her feet and threw her arms around his neck, and he smiled down at her as he brushed her hair back from her face. 

“Of course. I told you that you would be rewarded. You just single-handedly reclaimed a missing shipment worth over seven million lev, printsesa.” 

“Oh. I thought it would be a bigger number, with the way everyone’s been losing their minds about it.” Ginny sighed, then shrugged. “Can we make sure the cleaners get the blood off the lounger cushions? I think I’d like to keep those.” 

“Of course.” He nodded and reached down to grip her thighs, hauling her up against him. Ginny giggled and wrapped her legs around his waist as he began to move back toward the staircase. 

“Stay above deck for a bit,” he called out over his shoulder. 

⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹

Viktor leaned back against the couch on the sun deck, watching as Ginny sipped her wine. After everything had been handled, and he’d taken her below deck to shower—and, of course, to test out the master suite of her latest prize—they’d opted to spend the night on the boat. 

She needed it. He could see it in the tension of her shoulders, the way she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs. Perhaps, he thought, he’d keep her out on the water for a few days. To swim, and nap, and drink, and fuck, and escape the world for a while. 

He knew his world—their world—wasn’t an easy one. For as much of a force to be reckoned with as Ginny was, even she needed a bit of escapism once in a while. 

When they’d first wed, he’d been determined to shield her from every dark corner of this life, as many did with their wives and daughters. 

But that sentiment was short-lived. 

He still shielded her from the things he thought necessary, but after the first few times she’d inserted herself into things, he realised he had to concede, to learn to give her the space to make her own choices when she felt the need, because this was her life, too. 

Everything he had, everything he was, it all belonged to her. 

And if that meant playing rescue when she decided to get herself kidnapped so she could locate a missing arms shipment, then honestly, he was nothing short of lucky to be the one who got to rescue her.

Even if she drove him fucking insane with her games, he understood. Ginny had been raised well by strong, good people. She was the type of woman who needed to help. She was, at the core of her being, a caretaker—albeit the type who would rather throw a punch in defence of those she loved than tend to someone’s wounds. 

It was all the same. His wife was going to do whatever she thought best, and he was going to swoop in to clean things up, and it was simply the way they functioned. 

Still, he couldn’t quite help himself as he leaned forward and set his glass on the table, then leaned back, patting his thigh. Ginny downed the rest of her drink as she stood from the couch opposite him and sauntered over, climbing onto his lap. 

“You did so well today, printsesa,” he praised as she straddled him and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “You are so very good. But you have been behaving even more recklessly than usual lately, and you need to calm down.” 

He pulled back, reaching for her face as he guided her to sit up and face him. “You’re tense, and you’re getting more and more involved, and you know what that does to me.” 

“I know,” Ginny sighed. “I just feel so restless, Vik.” 

“What do you need?” He let his hand rest on the side of her neck as his other fell to grip her thigh. “Do you wish to go back to playing Quidditch? Do you want me to find you a job within the logistics company so you’ve got work to focus on? A vacation, perhaps, or another horse?” 

“A vacation would be nice,” Ginny nodded, “The Maldives again, for a week or two?”

“I’ll have Anev set it up tomorrow,” he answered automatically. “We’ll leave straight from the Burrow on Monday. Perhaps the weekend will do you well, too? Time with the family, yes?” 

“That will help. Maybe.” She glanced away, looking out over the water as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth with a contemplative look in her eyes, and Viktor sighed. 

He pressed his thumb to her lip, dragging it down to stop the biting as he softly ordered, “Talk to me, baby. I cannot help you if you cannot tell me what you need.”

“Hermione is pregnant again. Theo and Harry are looking to adopt. Ron and Lavender are even talking about kids. And I know I’m the one who said I wanted to wait, to see if I even wanted them at all, but…” Ginny sighed, and Viktor blew out a slow breath through his nose as he tightened his hold on her thigh. 

“Tell me,” he urged. “Svetŭt e za teb, lyubov moya. You know that you need only ask for what you want, and I will move the heavens and the earth to get it for you. But you have to say it, out loud.”

(The world for you, my love.)

“Okay.” She nodded again, looking back down into his eyes. “I think I’m ready now. I love this life, Vik, you know I do. But I just need… Iskam da bŭda maĭka.” 

(I want to be a mother.)

“Fuck,” Viktor groaned. “Hearing you say that, in my language. Do you have any idea what you do to me, red? If you want a baby, I’ll give you a dozen.” 

“Oh gods, no, I’m not that much of a Weasley,” Ginny laughed. “But I just… I’m ready now.” 

Ginny repeated the words, and he groaned again, tightening his hold on her neck to pull her in for a kiss. He kissed her hard, nearly punishing, if only to stave off the urge to scream in triumph. 

Viktor had thought about it a million times, and a million more. His wife, swelling with his child, carrying his heirs, running the world with his baby on her hip. The thought alone had his cock hardening beneath his trousers, and he broke the kiss, snapping his fingers to brandish his wand and vanish their clothes. 

Ginny gasped, looking down at their now-nude bodies. She opened her mouth—likely poised to make some sort of snarky comment, but he didn’t give her the time. 

He reached down to line himself up and began to sink inside of her, groaning as he felt her body open for him, her tight cunt stretching around him. She was always so fucking soaked, always so ready for him, and honestly, he was almost certain there was nothing better for a man’s ego than the way she gasped and whimpered as he filled her. 

“Tell me again,” he ordered.

“I want a baby,” Ginny moaned out, digging her hands into his shoulders as she began to ride him.

“Yeah? Is that what you need, printsesa? You need Daddy to make you a mommy?”

“Oh, fuck. Yes, yes, I—” She kissed him again, and then broke away to sit up in his lap, tangling her fingers in the chain around his neck as she lifted her hips and slammed back down. “Please, Daddy. Get me pregnant.”

The last, fraying tether of Viktor’s control snapped. 

For as much as he loved to watch her ride him, to take his time with her, he was only a man, and this perfect witch bouncing in his lap as she begged to be bred unleashed something primal inside of him. 

He grabbed her hips and flipped them, pushing her back against the couch as he knelt in front of her. Reaching for her legs, he pushed them together and looped an arm behind her knees to pull them back against his chest as his other hand pressed against her sternum, pinning her down. 

“Such a good fucking girl,” he groaned as he thrust back inside of her. “Perfect little witch. You’re going to lie there and take every inch of your Daddy’s cock, and then you’re going to thank me while I fill this perfect pussy and knock you up, aren’t you?” 

“Yes. Please, Viktor. Daddy, I’m so close already. Please, may I cum?” Ginny begged as she raised her hands over her head to grip the arm of the couch. She rocked her hips, meeting him thrust for brutal thrust, and he fucked into her harder, faster, claiming her with as much power as he could muster. 

He could feel sweat dripping from his face and trickling down his chest from the muggy, humid ocean air surrounding them, from the tight, wet heat of her, and his muscles coiled tight as he took her over and over. 

Usually, he prided himself on his ability to last, to fuck her for hours until she was a boneless, whimpering mess beneath him, but he was too far gone for control. 

“Ela za men, printsesa ,” he rasped. He released her legs and covered her body with his, snaking one arm behind her back to grip her shoulder as he drove into her harder and placed his hand on her stomach, groaning as his palm pressed against the slight bulge of his cock moving inside of her. 

(Come for me, princess.)

“Daddy, I’m so full,” Ginny whined. “I need… ohhh, gods.” 

“Fuck, yes. There you go. Perfect girl. Choke Daddy’s cock, just like that,” he groaned, panting the words out between thrusts as he felt his stomach muscles tense.

“Please,” she whined, digging her nails into his shoulder as she came undone around him. “Please, Daddy, get me pregnant. Inside, please. I’ll be good, I swear. I’ll take it all.” 

“Fuck. Yeah, you will.” Viktor crashed his mouth back to hers, swallowing her moans as his cock unloaded inside of her, painting her inner walls with rope after rope of cum as he continued to move inside of her until his hips stuttered and he collapsed on top of her. 

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, panting against her heated flesh as she ran her fingers up and down his back. 

“So good,” he praised, pulling back to trail his lips over her collarbone. “You are always so fucking good for me, sweet girl.” 

“Hey, Vik?” The nervous tone in her voice jolted his mind out of the lust-filled, post-coital haze, and he pulled back to look down at her, brushing her hair out of her face. 

“Kakvo e?”

(What is it?)

“Is now a good time to tell you that we were supposed to meet your mother for dinner?” Ginny asked with a nervous giggle. 

Shit. 

“We’re going to pay for that one,” he sighed as he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. Reaching for the pack of cigarettes he’d left on the table, he lit one and settled back on the couch to appreciate the view of her still spread out before him. 

“Yeah,” Ginny giggled again. “I think she’s even scarier than I am.” 

“Oh?” he raised his eyebrow. “Do you think you’re scary, little witch?” 

“Oh, terrifying.” She nodded as she sat up and summoned the bottle of wine from the metal chiller across the deck. “I mean, I killed two men today. I’m kind of a bad arse. You should be scared.” 

“Two men?” Viktor gasped dramatically. 

“I know,” she sighed. “I’m out of control. Untamable, really. Honestly, I don’t know how you sleep so soundly next to such a dangerous woman. Don’t you know I’m crazy, baby?” 

“Eh.” He shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette. “I suppose it’s good that I like a challenge.” 

⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹