#Skid Row smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taintedjeon · 1 year ago

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──★ ˙ ̟ 𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 - jjk (m)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: rockstar-vocalist!jk x groupie!reader (afab/she/her) 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞: rockstar au 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 18+, smut, porn-with-little-plot 𝐰𝐜: 4.1k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: omg here we go... bigdick!jk, bigsize!jk, dom!jk, sub!reader, she isnt bratty but she pushes the right buttons, strong language ie swearing, use of nicknames (princess, babydoll, baby, slut, good girl), now for the gewwwd stuffs ;; kissing, making out, nipple sucking, spit kink, size kink, light petting, reader goes into sub space, choking/asphyxiation, jk has not 1 .... nOT TEW not T H R E E ;; but ✨ fOuR ✨ dick piercings jahsgdfjshdh!!! (1 prince albert n 3 foreskin piercings) — n for the sake of this story he isnt circumcised since plenty of ppl on this app like to make things like that a big deal… if u do; theres the block button ok thank u bye. —the use of piercings for sexual pleasure, multiple orgasms, jk comes inside, unprotected sex, standing sex, dirty talk, fingering (oc receiving), oral (oc receiving), face ridddding, she uses his nose to stimulate.

Backstage of the venue is cold, a juxtaposition to the warmth of the crowd you had been swarmed in moments ago. Now, your body ignites in flames as Jeongguk drags you through the commotion of people; his palm wrapped around your wrist tight. From sound engineers, lighting operators, bodyguards and technicians of all kinds, Jeongguk manages to skillfully weave you both successfully to the end of what felt like a never ending corridor before opening the last door on the left and pulling you inside.

You’re not given enough time to make aware of your surroundings before Jeongguk shakes off his leather jacket and pulls his vintage 1991 Skid Row band shirt over his head in that sexy manner men do — arms crossed, gripping the hem and effortlessly off his body. Removing the shirt messes around with his already sweat soaked mid length bob that he has been growing out. But yet, as the strands fall in disarray over his face, it still manages to make him effortlessly fuckable.

You can’t ignore either his body and the way it bulges in the correct places and curves and dips in the rest. It might have been only six months since you had seen Jeongguk last, but in those six months, he has filled in his body finely — both physically and visually.

Tattoos litter his right arm in pretty shapes, swirls, designs and lettering. Beautiful colours striking against emboldened blacks and whites. He sports two barbells on either side of his chest and you bite your lip as images from the last hook up fills your mind from when you had the opportunity to enjoy them in person.

Jeongguk isn’t oblivious to you taking him in; top to bottom, head to toe, and finally he does something about it. Your back is pushed up against the door and the sound of the lock latching behind you. Jeongguk’s mouth is on yours in an instant, his pillowy lips slightly chapped from the singer being on stage for the last hour and a half but that doesn’t stop you from melting into him.

Your arms wrap around his neck, giving you ample opportunity to deepen the kiss. The metal of the metal hugging is lip is cool against your warm skin. Your tongue runs along the seam of his bottom lip and he grants you access to tangle your tongue with his. The after taste of cheap beer and spearmint gum is welcomed as the pair of you turn the kiss from passionately soft to fierce, a sense of urgency creeping into the mix as you’re both aware that you both need to get off before someone comes searching for Jungkook for his encore set.

“Couldn’t help but notice you starin’ at me through the set,” Jeongguk smirks sexily, knowing he has you exactly where he wants you. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

His hands roam all over your body as he kisses you hard. He starts at your shoulders, swiftly pulling down the thin straps of your tank top past the cups of your white lace bra before tugging the cups and feels as your tits release from the lace.

“M’sure plenty of girls were,” you’re quick to reply, voice airy with lust.

Jeongguk breaks the kiss, saliva keeping your mouth connected before he snaps it with his deft fingers and then using them to run light, teasing circles over your hardened nipples.

“Maybe, but none that I actually want. Thought you were so fucking pretty…”

You shiver and you know it’s not from the temperature of the chilly room you’re both currently occupying.

Before you’re about to remind Jeongguk about the lack of time you both have, the dull hum of intermission music vibrates the tiny closet and his lips are on your throat and all words die on your tongue as you hiss out in pleasure.

“Sensitive, yeah?” He asks, his breath warm against your skin as he decorates your skin in tiny nips and sucks.

“Oh…yes,” you confirm, your lids fluttering shut as he continues his assault on your neck.

With shaking hands, your arms trail down to the belt loops of his leather pants and you hook your fingers through and use it to your advantage to tug him closer to you. The feeling of Jeongguk grinning against your skin at your obvious desperation for him urges him on. With ease, he slots his thigh in between your legs and uses his stance as an advantage to pry your legs further apart.

Working your own fingers on the heavy buckle of his belt as Jeongguk continues his teasing on your cunt, you manage to pull the leather in between your fingers to open him up. Jeongguk tilts your chin with his palm to continue his assault on your neck and you retaliate by slipping your hand underneath his pants. Your fingers come in contact with his hardened cock and Jeongguk bucks his hips further into your touch.

Your heart thrums against your ribs when you feel his fingers inch their way below the hem of your pleated skirt to press into the warm of your cunt.

“Warm and wet,” he whispers against the shell of your ear; his voice is enough to cause the small hairs on your arms to rise. You don’t stop the whine that falls from your tongue as he presses two digits harder against your pulsing clit. “And so fucking sensitive, just for me, pretty girl.”

You get lost in the sensation of him starting to rub you over the flimsy cloth at your cunt.

All your inhibitions are lost as your want for the vocalist grows. “Jeongguk, please,” you beg for more…beg for him.

“Fuck, yes, plead for me,” Jeongguk almost starts begging with you. “Plead for me just like you did in your videos you dirty girl. You’re so bad, huh? Sending videos of your creamy pussy whilst I’m rehearsing. Tell me, did you satisfy yourself? Or am I just too good at pleasing you?”

“No, Jeongguk, I-nothing c-could ever compare to you at all. I was only mmm-missing you, ahhh,” your voice trails off when you feel his thumb and pointer finger pinch at your clit, lightly twists.” Your body grows hot and electrified, sweat building a glistening sheen on your body at the tirade your body is going through.

It only lasts for the briefest of moments before Jeongguk stops playing with you and instead pulls your thong to the side and tucks it in between the juncture of your groin and thigh before running his fingers between your now exposed folds, feeling how soaked you are and slides a thick finger into your soft core.

“Fuuuuck, you’re treatin’ me fucking good tonight, doll,” his voice rasps and you watch as he sinks to his knees in front of you. With ease, Jeongguk props your leg over his shoulder and buries his head in between your legs and his tongue is quick to drag through your pussy.

“Jeongguk, fuck, ohmygod,” the cry is muffled as he brings a big hand up to your lips and covers your mouth. Your eyes can’t help but roll back as your cunt flutters over the thick, long fingers that help place stars behind your closed eyes.

“M’gonna need you to be quiet, babydoll. I’ve still got more to give you... going to push a couple more fingers in ‘till I’m satisfied, okay?

Jeongguk makes quick work of his tongue on your cunt. A litany of fast strokes, skilled pumps of his tongue in your messy leaky hole and now with the added addition of two more fingers, now counting three. You feel full of him as he preps you for what you hope is yet to come. It’s almost second nature for him to know when to curl his digits inside of you, a skill you’re more than aware has come from the copious amount of women he’s had in his bed. But for tonight, he’s here with you and that’s what’s important. You moan when he gets knuckle deep and causes your breathing to become erratic as both your hands tangle into the messy roots of his shaggy locks.

It’s frightening how fast your orgasm approaches you. It’s almost like he's known your body for years, and in some way, he does. Whenever his band finds their way to your town, the tirade of sexting continues from where it left off from his last visit.

“Yes babydoll, just like that, use me.”

He fucks his fingers into you and his tongue flicks your clit, drinking down your honeyed slickness. You don’t stop your hips from chasing your high, letting your pussy grind further into his face, nudging at his nose and then stopping to fuck yourself on his pretty button feature.

Out of the corner of your eye, you find a mirror tucked away in the corner. With the closest bathed in darkness, you’re unable to see clearly in the mirror, but it’s clear enough that you can make out the both of you — your hips fucking Jeongguk, using your hands to guide him into delicious positions for your tongue.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t realise Jeongguk has removed a hand from your ass, his black chipped nail polished fingernails rakes down the skin of your thigh, hard enough to leave a sting of pleasurable pain as he continues down to the knee over his shoulder.

With shaking legs, your climax reaches its tipping point and you feel yourself come at an impressive force. Your body curls over in euphoria, fingers tightening its hold in his hair as a litter of curses fill the space between you both. Your head rolls back and your eyes tighten as nothing but black and speckles of white fuzzy stars to appear behind your eyes.

Jeongguk stands up, face wet from your cum coating his pretty features and he can’t help but swipe his tongue over his chin, making a scene of tasting the remnants of your arousal that he gave you.

“Aw, did my fingers fuck you dumb, hmm babydoll? Tell me how good it makes you feel,” Jeongguk demands from you as he practically laughs at your disorientation.

It isn’t fair, you’re still trying to come down from such a powerful climax that the best you can offer him is a string of useless babbled broken words.

His laughter continues and embarrassment settles in your chest. Nobody has ever made you come like that with their fingers alone and you’re both well aware of that fact.

“You look so fucking pathetic and pretty for me, pussy stretched over my bare fingers, making the sweetest sounds. Fuck, I should record you and put you on my next record and release it for the world to hear; you’d be my next breaking hit.” Jeongguk admits and lands a slap against your asscheek, the bite of his skin against yours causing you to hiss.

Eventually, you’re able to prop yourself up on your elbows on top of a stack of black equipment boxes that are kept behind the stages and cock your eyebrow up at him.

“Jeongguk, is that the best you’ve got?” You smirk, knowing you’re pouring gasoline all over an already raging fire.

Jeongguk walks towards you and traps you in between his body and the boxes you're using as a support beam. He lifts his hand in the air and the next thing you know, a dim light flicks to life and lights the closest in a warm yellow glow.

You’re able to take in the sight of the man in front of you for the first time since entering together. His once precise eyeliner and eyeshadow is smudged down his cheeks but in a way that makes him look fucking delicious. His chest is heaving with every shallow breath he takes and you’re awestruck at the beauty of him.

“Tell me what you want.” His eyes are darkened with unbridled lust as he wraps his tattooed hand around your throat and squeezes at the sides, watching your eyes roll back. Jeongguk truly does know your body like a well versed chorus and it makes your body thrum with want. “Good girls use their words.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

He towers over you easily as he stares down at you. His thumb glides over your lower lip and you open your mouth at his silent request. A train of spit is released from his mouth as he watches it slowly pool at the back of your mouth. Jeongguk follows his fluid and presses his lips to yours in a languid kiss, his tongue instantly twisting with yours nastily. You’re still able to taste your cum on his tongue and your pussy throbs for more of him.

It’s effortless how he breaks your lewd kiss and is able to manhandle your body, twisting you around so your back is facing him and he kicks apart your feet like he had done earlier.

“How badly do you want me to fuck you?"

You back your ass into the crotch of his leather pants as you feel him rustling behind you to remove his clothing just enough to release his cock. You move your hips against him, feeling his cock in between your asscheeks as you move to sensual rhythm. “So fucking badly. Remind me what your cock feels like.”

He grabs at your arm and pulls it towards his covered cock. You take the hint and wrap your hand around his twitching length, giving him a teasing squeeze when you feel it. You’re back at standing straight and you turn back around to face Jeongguk, peeking down towards cock.

“What is that?”

“This?” he pulls his boxers down by the hem just enough to reveal the blue jewel piercing. “I’m so glad you asked. I did this for you.”

“You got your dick pierced for me?”

He laughs. “No baby,” this time he pulls his black Calvin Kleins to his mid thighs and reveals one by one a new piercing decorated with a different colour gemstone until he reaches his tip, decorated with a prince Albert with pink gemstones on either side of the bar. “I got my dick pierced four times for you. Each one a favourite colour of yours so when I fuck you, you can watch as the colours disappear inside of you.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth waters at the thought of how they’re going to feel as he fucks into you and you moan pathetically. You can’t look away from them. The pink prince Albert sits prettily at the top of his cock as a puddle of pearlescent precum allows the pink to look vibrant. Following that are three foreskin piercings, again all different coloured stones locking the metal bars in place. There is a purple set first, a green set in the middle and then your favourite colour at the end, nearing the base of his cock — blue.

He is so close to you that you can feel the warmth of his breath against the shell of your ear. “Now, let me use these how they were intended to be fucking used — to feel you wrapping yourself around my cock like an obident slut.” He presses a kiss against your shoulder and manhandles you back in place. “Bend over and spread yourself open,” he growls.

Doing as you’re told, your tits press into the cold metal boxes as you bend yourself to his liking before reaching behind you and spreading your ass open for Jeongguk, displaying your pussy, showing how wet and ready you are for him.

He uses this as an opportunity to bend down to your cunt and spits directly at your hole, watching as you clench around nothing in anticipation for his cock. You looked behind you to see him grab at his cock, lining himself up to your quivering cunt.

“Before I fuck you, there’s one rule you follow,” he groans.

“W-what?” You ask, your breathing all over the place as you wait somehow impatiently for the one thing you have waited six months for.

Jeongguk prods his tip at your entrance and watches as his cum coats your entrance, but never quite pushes himself in yet. “Every inch I fill you with, I want you to count every piercing you feel on my cock—”

“Fuck, Jeongguk!”

“There’s four in total, princess. Once you’ve counted the forth one, then you’ll know you’ve taken all eight inches of me. If you fail to count, I’ll pull out and he can start again until you get it right. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” you tell him.

Jeongguk places a hand at your hip and lines his cock up to you one more time. Slowly, he eases into you and your head falls forward against the boxes. The feeling of his prince albert piercing intruding your small hole causes goosebumps to rise and your breath to falter.

“Count. I’m not going to tell you again.”

With a shaky voice, you obey. “One.”

He stops for a moment, catching his own breath as the reality of the situation catches up with him as he takes in the fact he is back burying himself in his favourite pussy. Definitely one of the greatest parts of him touring the world is your cunt.

Jeongguk manages to compose himself and ease himself further into you, watching as he’s coming up to the first piercing on his foreskin. Just like the first one, he nuzzles the piercing over your clit and moves his hips in a way where it rubs over your clit. Your fist clenches as you feel him tease you and just as you’re about to urge him to go faster, he finally sinks the second bar into your snug core.

“T-two.”

This time, Jeongguk doesn’t waste any time and continues to sheath himself, feeling you wrapping around him. He can’t see you but he knows by how boneless your body has gone that you’re experiencing a whole new high. Better than any drug could give. He reaches piercing three, the green gem glinting from the small lightbulb above before disappearing fully.

He’s only three piercings in and you feel full already, unsure of how there can be any more of him for you to take. His cockhead already feels as if it’s touching your cervix. You know already that by the time the last cock piercing is in you that your tummy will be bulging from his size.

“Shit, there’s just one more. You’re doing so well for me, such a good girl for me,” Jeongguk purrs his affirmation and you perk up at his approval. “Wan’ you to touch yourself.”

You’re too blissfully fucked out already to be bratty, your mind too far in subspace. Your hand wanders in between your legs, towards your cunt. Pressing two fingers to your clit, you begin to rub in a near perfect circular motion.

“Please, Jeongguk, wanna be your g-good girl,” you hiccup.

Jeongguk uses your distraction as his opportunity to sink the last remaining piercing into your poor pussy, feeling you release more of your honey onto him, helping ease him into you just the way he likes.

Not even your favourite dildo can replicate the feeling that this is giving you right now. You have never felt pleasure like this nor do you think you ever will again until the next time you see him.

“F-four…”

He bends down over you to give you a moment to recuperate. His chest is against your back and he presses a kiss to the back of your head.

“Gukkie, move.”

With both of his hands now situated at either side of your hips, Jeongguk pulls out of you and you're forced to feel the jewellery leaving your cunt before he drills back into you, the metal piercings acting as ridges against your soft walls.

Wails and whimpers fall from your lips like a sinful prayer and right now Jeongguk truly did wish this was something he could record. Not for a record as he previously mentioned but for himself.

“More,” Jeongguk moans at your pleas and thrusts forward roughly.

Your heart beats in overtime to keep up with the excretion that your body is going through, sweat clinging to your skin and eyes rolling backwards as he begins a pace that has you seeing stars. His cock rubs so deliciously at your g-spot, every inch he pulls out of you is covered in a bubbly white consistency of your mixed cum.

“Wish you could see what I see, babydoll. Your cunt is such a perfect fit for my big cock.” He punctuates his words with a slap to your ass as he continues to fuck himself in and out of you at a ruthless pace.

You turn your head to the side to catch a glimpse of Jeongguk, and you don’t regret the image. His head is thrown back as he uses one hand to run through the strands of sweat slicked strands from his forehead as they merge together with the hair at the crown of his head. His face has darkened and his eyes are screwed tight in pleasure. You clench your cunt around him, enticing a sinful beautiful moan from him.

“I can take it, Jeongguk! Have always been able to look after you!” Your words aren’t lost on Jeongguk as he chases his high, taking you along for the ride too.

“Jeongguk, please, ohmy—, I’m gonna cum for you,” the words spill from your lips in a high pitched cry as your fingers work once more to rub yourself further to your hight. That’s all Jeongguk needs to hear. He places a hand on the centre of your stomach and the next thing he knows, he’s spilling his own seed into your spent cunt. Ropes of white fill you up and he feels as your stomach bloats just ever so slightly at the load he’s disposed of inside of you.

It doesn’t take you long to feel the frantic burning sensation inside of you snap at the feeling of Jeongguk’s cum filling you up completely before you’re now coming around his cock that is still snuggly stuffed inside of you to the hilt. Your body shakes and your legs are on the verge of giving out at the power of your orgasm that you quickly throw a hand around Jeongguk’s neck to pull at the strands to keep yourself upright.

Time passes as you stand there together, basking in the afterglow of rough sex that has definitely now made him late to the stage for his encore set. It doesn't look like Jeongguk is in any rush to go anywhere though as he whispers quiet little ‘shushes’ in your ear, knowing that you enjoy the little sounds of endearments he feeds you as you come out of your sub space.

Pressed against his soft, warm chest, you're able to hear the beating of his heart under his skin and your mind silently counts in time with every beat. He still has his arm around your waist as both of you still pant from your recent orgasms.

“You should go, Jeongguk, you have a show to finish,” you whisper, knowing he should leave you to finish what he started but you still don’t untangle yourself from his arms.

“I know. But I don’t want this to be the end. Once I get on that stage and finish my set, I’ll be dragged back into a van and taken to the next place when all I want is to be here with you.”

Warmth blossoms over your body at the admission and you can’t help but want more of him too. However, when you both started this, you knew of the implications and the risks.

Jeongguk eventually sits you down and reaches for his discarded band tee and dresses you in it, knowing you’ll keep it until the next time you see each other again. He dresses himself back up, pulling his pants up and redoing the buttons. He picks up the leather jacket and hands it to you with a kiss on top of your forehead.

His lips linger longer than any previous kiss like this he’s given you.

“Jeongguk, please go and finish your set.”

“I’ll see you next time, yeah?” And you nod your confirmation. You’ll always see him again.

He eventually pulls away from you and clicks open the door, slipping out and leaving you in the closest on your own.

“Jeongguk, where the fuck have you been? You’ve kept us waiting!” The voices dissipate the further they walk away. In your hazy, lust clouded mind you decipher that the voices to be his managerial staff or his fellow band members.

You sit by yourself in the small space which now feels too big with just yourself inside. The dull sound of drums and an electric guitar vibrates through the backstage area and you sit in your own company and listen to what you can of the music.

“Until next time.”

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daenysthedreamersblog · 11 months ago

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NOTHING MATTERS

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

little AU!!! of my strangers fic inspired by link & link

summary: president snow takes reproductive matters into his own hands

pairings: president!snow x district6! reader

warnings: MDNI!! BLOOD!, smut, p in v sex, infertility, lil period sex (saltburn possessed me for a sec), breeding kink, lil breastfeeding kink (who made me do that??), pregnancy kink, murder

notes: WHO MADE ME WRITE THIS!! i hate pregnancy tropes 🫢 ... anywho enjoy tho. 'nothing matters' - the last dinner party

President Snow had your cycles down to a tee. With whatever birth control he shoved in your arm it had somewhere along the way regulated them to be able to track, to predict, to control.

You didn't mind; you enjoyed the formalization he had established for your life. You stopped worrying about them coming sporadically and without warning because he always knew. He would have supplies dropped off with a vase of white roses and it would come soon after like the floral scent triggered it to start.

It didn't stop him from fucking you.

No, of course not.

He would feast on you, blood coating his chin and chest before sliding inside of you savoring the extra lubrication. You yearned for it.

Time had gone by and your life was easy. He took care of everything, you, your body, sucked the rot right out of you, as long as you were good, you were safe.

Livia was still there, somewhere deep in the house, sometimes listening. She stopped having dinner with the two of you and you chalked it up to maybe he had finally gotten her pregnant; her purpose served.

But you never heard a baby cry.

You would wait and listen to hear something of that sort, but the house was still so quiet. He must have moved her, moved them away, somewhere else where they couldn't find you. He could keep up his public image and you would live out your days here in a routine.

Then one day, while pruning roses in his garden, you heard the door open. You heart skidded, wetness seeped out of you, so you knew it was him. He was home earlier than usual. You waited, waited for him to come for you and soon enough his hands trailed down your arms. He brushed your hair to the side kissing up your neck, "My good little bluebell," He murmured into your skin. "I need you to do something for me." You blinked upward staring at the rows of pretty white flowers some rock forming in your chest. "You can do that can't you?" You found yourself nodding, not even knowing what you were agreeing to, but that's how things were between the two of you; blind obedience. "That's my good girl." He reached down, pulled something from his pocket. "Open." You obeyed feeling him pour a liquid into your mouth. Before you could even turn blackness engulfed you.

It was blurry, and painful as someone scratched at your skin. There was blood and voices, and he was there staring down at you, you felt yourself reaching for him. Then you felt him between your legs that blissful pleasure ricocheting through you. It was all that mattered.

You woke up next to him naked and sore.

You curled into his warm skin feeling his fingers twitch against you and you closed your eyes, safe and normal once more. Life was easy, he made sure of that, as long as nothing changed.

Months went by and he seemed more aggressive than ever fucking into you wildly. He even began to come home mid day to fuck you and then go back to work. You didn't mind as his tongue lapped you up, as he pushed into you, cumming hard and deep never letting a single drop spill out of you. He would sit there for a while between your legs staring at his cum oozing from you and then he would shove it all back in and leave.

You didn't think anything of it until one day supplies showed up for your impending cycle, the sweet scent of roses filled your nose, but blood never leaked out of you.

Maybe it was the wrong day, he seemed distracted, frustrated with work no doubt. You did often hear him yelling at someone far off in the house some days. You ran your fingers across the soft petals and took the supplies in the bathroom to leave there.

But another week had passed and nothing came.

Unopened boxes sat in your hands as panic erupted in your chest. The implant must be malfunctioning or expired to cause the tardiness of your cycle, but the feeling dragged in your bones. You glanced up in the mirror, blurry eyes going to your stomach. It wasn't possible, it wasn't right. Your body had betrayed you again. He would be so angry with you, this wasn't supposed to happen, you had done something wrong. You fought the urge to dig your claws into yourself to tear it out, rip it from your stomach. It was an abomination, an antichrist that would butcher you.

Instead you stood there and cried.

You flinched when he opened the door, "You're late."

Your eyes quivered as you looked at him through the mirror, "I'm sorry." Don't stutter. "Mr. President, sir."

He shook his head a satisfied smile in his face where you expected cold rage, "Such a good girl." He walked forward, "I knew you could do it." You watched him, his eyes trained on your womb and you wanted to ask him to get rid of it so you could return to your never changing routine, but that thought nagged at you, clamping your lips shut. Your mind had betrayed you as well. His hand was pulling up the dress you wore slowly turning your body as his hand laid across your stomach.

He kissed your shoulder before bending you over the bathroom sink to plunge his cock into you. Your unused supplies got knocked to the floor with each brutal thrust of him and you gripped the cold counter moaning his name like you always would. You watched him in the mirror, watched that little stray curl fall into his face as his hands reached around to cup your sore breast. And even knowing the consequences it had caused you, you still loved his cum inside you.

"This shouldn't..." You chewed on your tongue as he walked you to bed. "I did something wrong. Won't people be mad at me?"

He stroked a hand down your head, "Nobody will know."

"Are you mad at me?"

"No." He shook his head tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, "You've been so good to me."

You blinked up at him. "Your wife..."

His eyes narrowed in anger and you looked down. "No longer a concern."

But wasn't she? This wasn't supposed to happen with you. Livia was his wife, Livia had to give him children, Livia...

Livia was infertile.

You learned that when he brought the doctor to confirm what beast was growing inside you. They had tried for two years, and never were able to conceive. So, he drugged you, ripped the implant out of your arm, and now you sat staring at the small gestational sac flickering on the screen. You had agreed to let him do this, remembered nodding your head without question because that was what was expected of you. You belonged to him, your mind and body, it wouldn't have matter if you had willingly agreed or not, the choice was an illusion. Tears welled in your eyes, bile rising in your throat and you flew forward reaching for the trash can to throw up into.

A hand rubbed your back. You threw up again.

"Are you happy?" He asked while the two of you sat in that empty room the sound of its vicious strong heart beat echoing in your head.

You didn't know what to feel. You felt ashamed, you felt wrong. You had been content fucking him, hating him, being fed and watered like a pretty flower in his greenhouse. You wanted to beg him to take it out, it made your insides roil and burn, it changed what you had been comfortable knowing. But you had always wanted Coriolanus Snow to live inside you, and now it always would be, growing within you, altering your DNA.

"Yes Mr. President, sir." Was the only answer you knew he would take.

He kissed your shoulder, "I knew you would be." A hand splayed on your belly, "My darling bluebell."

So, a few months later you found yourself once again pruning the roses half-way through an uneventful pregnancy. President Snow doted on you more than usual, bringing you flowers everyday, supplying you with more food once you were able to keep it down. He changed your wardrobe to accommodate your growing womb, he loved seeing how big you were getting each passing week, loved fucking you even more. Sometimes he would make you stand there naked just so he could look at you and you round stomach.

It would be over soon, you looked forward to that day, when they would take the baby from you and you would never have to see what tore its way out of you. You could return to normalcy, relishing in the predictably of your life with him.

The greenhouse door opened, shut and locked. Something was off, you knew by the way your body failed to react. "He finally did it." Her cold voice stilled your corrupted heart.

You turned slowly to see her, her red eyes going to your bump. She looked unwell, gaunt, exhausted and sad. "Mrs. Snow." You responded. You thought she was dead, maybe she was.

"I kept telling him if we could just try I would be able to give him children." She took a step closer and the hair stood up on your arm. "But he insisted on artificial insemination." Livia sneered, "Because of you. He wouldn't fuck me because of you." Your eyes darted around the room looking for an escape. "He married me, he chose me."

"Mrs. Snow..."

She slapped you across the face, "Don't even dare. You think you're so special, winning the games, letting him fuck you like the whore you are. You disgust me." She was seething your eyes finally catching on the long steak knife in her pale hands. "That's my baby." She pushed you back, your back hitting the table holding your tender flowers.

You braced for the pain, braced for the sharp edge cutting through you.

But all you felt was a kick.

Time stilled, your mind narrowing in on the feeling of it rolling and twisting inside of you, clawing at your organs, punching your ribs. It's small little foot kicked you again, your heart stuttered with the abuse adoration refilling disgust. It wasn't an abomination at all, it was everything you had ever idolized, once hated, once loved. It was just like it's father, stealing your body, blood, and bone; your heart beat for it.

You were a victor, you were his victor.

Warmth spilled down your hand and you met Livia's wide eyes. You both looked down at the shears you buried deep in her stomach.

Then you were running for the door yanking at the locked handle as her hand wrapped into your hair pulling you back. Your back slammed into the table once more glass shattering around you as red oozed out of her.

"If I can't have it neither can you."

Another reassuring kick in tandem with your heart beat and you were moving as you picked up the nearest potted plant to throw at her watching her stumble forward, a rage driving her movements.

She tackled you to the ground hands ripping out the shears to hold over your head.

"You're nothing but a savage." She was crying her tears and blood dripping onto you.

The greenhouse door flew open. "Livia." He was coming to save you once more and the little thing inside you somersaulted.

She looked back at him, "Coryo! This isn't fair! If we could just try! I can give you children please! We can be happy...I know it."

"Get off of her. Now." He gritted out.

She shook her head, "We can grow to love each other too...if you just try...with me, not her."

You wanted to tell her, explain, there was no love between the two of you. It was raw possession and starvation and hatred that kept you glued beside him. It was insanity and corruption that burned through your souls intwining them together in a pretty blood stained ribbon.

He glared, "Enough."

"No! No!" She screamed as you lie stagnant under her. "I'll tell everyone! Leak it to the news what you keep here, who your children really belong to. You'll be ruined." Her rage melted into sadness. "It's supposed to be me." She looked back down at you, "Why would he want you."

You heard the click of guns, but your hand had wrapped around the knife's handle your lips pulling back to bare your teeth, a snake poised to strike.

"Because I'm his good girl."

You slashed the knife across her throat a warm red river spurting over you from the open wound. Her body collapsing on top of you instantly, blood soaking into you, and this time you didn't wait for him to move it, you shoved her to the side hands going to caress your stomach as that little life rolled within you.

He came forward staring down at you covered in his dead wife's blood. He bent down holding your chin with two fingers, "You are." A stroke of his thumb, "My darling girl."

You surged forward to kiss him feeling him pull your drenched body to him, wrapping your legs around him as he went to the nearest table. In one swift swipe of his hand plants clattered to the floor as he laid your body down in a bed of ruined white roses. He was ripping down the middle of your dress to tear the fabric off your body as you did the same to his feeling him climb onto the table above you.

His hand went between your thighs, fingers shoving into you, stretching you open, palm pressed against your clit, hips bucking to meet his thrust. You stare at him as he watches his hand disappear inside your needy cunt. His mouth goes to your breast, sucking and nipping at the swollen flesh watching as milk slowly starts to leak from the tips.

He stares down at it for a moment, blood and milk covering your chest, before running his tongue along it again. His mouth wraps around it sucking harshly and you moan fingers running through his hair. His hand moves faster pressing down on your clit more and soon enough your clenching down around his fingers as he throws you over your peak.

You tilt your hips up to let him slide in deeper whining out when he's fully seated inside you clawing at him as he thrust in and out of you viciously. His teeth graze against your jaw as he rolls his body along you, hands sliding down to rest against his side. You nip at his ear feeling his pants growing louder near your face. You feel conjoined, connected between bodies and soul and you find yourself running a soft hand down the back of his head.

"Do you still hate me?" He breaths out grinding his body hard into yours.

You can't answer.

He smirks, "I want you to give me more," He hooks an arm under you thrusting into you faster. "I want a little litter, breed that good little obedience into them hmm?" Your toes curl against him, "You want to give me that right? Give me however many I want?"

"Please," You whine against his throat.

He slides his hand between your bodies, skin slick with drying blood, running circles around your clit as his dick hits every good spot within you. Your body alights with pleasure as he brings your closer to the edge. "That's my good girl."

You squeeze your eyes and cum, pussy clamping down around him. His fingers grip your scalp as his thrust quicken, his grunts getting faster until he finally spills inside of you.

He stays within you as you whisper into his skin, "Coriolanus." He goes stiller above you, "It's a boy."

"A boy." His lips twitched against you, it almost feels involuntary.

He glances down at you a certain lightness to his blue eyes. He's everything. Him. This consumption, this primal need and obsession, this hatred and worship. He's everything. He's given you everything, even a darling baby boy.

He's got your eyes and Coriolanus's curly blond hair. He's precious and all you ever needed, but you still wanted more, craved more. You watched him play with a toy train set as you bobbed your daughter against your knee.

"Dada," She cooed watching as he stepped into the room two white roses in his hand.

He bent down to hand one to her the small little smile on his face as the sweet scent filled the room. Then he tucks the other behind your ear, "One for each of my favorite girls." He asked a hand reaching out to splay against your ever-growing womb. "How are you?"

"Hungry." Your eyes darkened as you meet his.

You set your daughter down sending the nanny in to watch over them as Coriolanus pressed a hand to your back leading you back to your room.

You can barely keep your clothes on before the door closes, greedily pressing your self against him, mouths heavy and hot with teeth and tongues.

This is everything. He's everything. He's all consuming. Nothing else matters.

Even when the cold comes crashing through

I'm putting all my bets on you

I hope they never understand us

I put my heart inside your palms

My home in your arms

Now we know nothing matters

notes: hope you enjoyed! im not super thrilled with this snow ended up being WAY too nice lmaoo but i remembered him being rly sweet (well his version of it) to his granddaughter in THG and i was like ya know what hes a psycho but he would adore his kids lmao

but yea this is such an AU snow and reader would never have children in my OG story :)

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #fanfic #dark fanfic #dark fanfiction #president coriolanus snow #president snow #president snow x reader #coryo snow #coryo smut #coryo x you #snow lands on top #hunger games #ballad of songbirds and snakes #daenysthedreamersblog

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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

Text

Exit Eddie Pursued by a Steve Part 1

Hello and welcome to one-shot Saturdays, the day I put out short completed (most of the time) fics for you wonderful readers.

This week we have the completed Smut to Fluff fic I had been working on on WIP Wednesdays. This has three parts. I started writing part four last Wednesday but it got angsty and not where I wanted the story to go. So those extra bits have been saved for another story somewhere down the line that it fits better in.

18+ under the cut.

****

Eddie had been on his way to the band room for his weekly “meeting” of the Hellfire Club. They had to have in there this week due to the unfortunate fact that the school musical was currently being preformed and they actually needed the drama room closet.

Suddenly a gaggle of people came tearing out of the stage in a hurry. The last of which was someone in a large red wig and bright yellow dress. But Eddie knew those hazel eyes anywhere.

He let out a low whistle. “Looking gorgeous there, Harrington.”

Steve skidded to a stop in his kitten heels and turned to see who had cat-called him.

“Yeah?” Steve said to him under half-shut eyes. “You like what you see, Munson?”

Eddie gave an appraising glance up and down. “I do indeed.”

“Too bad I have to change out of it,” Steve teased.

Eddie shook his head sadly. “Now, why would you want to go and do a thing like that?”

Steve laughed. “Because I’m in the next scene, and I ain’t wearing this!”

Eddie laughed, too. “Damn shame.”

Steve looked around and then hurried over to him. “If you like it that much, meet me after the play.”

He winked and then gathered up his skirt and ran for the changing room.

Eddie was still standing there when Jeff, Gareth, and Brian came up behind him.

“Who was the broad?” Brian asked.

Eddie licked the top row of his teeth. “That was no broad, gentlemen. That was King Steve in a ballgown.”

“Wait, what?” Jeff asked, his face screwed up in confusion. “No way.”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie hummed. “And I’m pretty sure he just asked me backstage after the play for a little action.”

All three other boys turned to him in shock.

“Ain’t no way,” Gareth hissed. “It’s probably some prank to have the basketball team jump you or something.”

Eddie grinned. “Come on, boys. We’ve got dragons to slay before they kick us out of the band room, too.”

They all followed him to the band room, a little confused on what just happened.

Steve waited nervously after getting one of the orchestra to help him back into the dress. The wig and makeup were gone, as were the shoes. Those things pinched.

His dress swished back and forth as he paced, wringing his hands.

“Oh.”

Steve stopped pacing and turned to the open door. Eddie stood there with an expression that Steve couldn’t quite make out.

“I have to know before we do this,” he rambled. “Are you wanting to do this because you thought I was beautiful as a girl? Or because you thought I looked beautiful in the dress?”

Eddie paused for a moment. “That is a very important distinction and one you are right in asking, sweetheart.”

Steve blushed deeply.

Eddie crowded his space and lifted his chin gently, “You look beautiful, Stevie.”

He gasped and Eddie dived on in, pressing their lips together. Instantly, Steve’s tongue tangled with his.

Eddie pulled away reluctantly. “We are definitely doing this.”

Steve nodded. “Just try not to get anything on the dress itself, otherwise I’ll be murdered by the drama teacher.”

Eddie chuckled darkly. “You’ve got it, babe.”

When Eddie walked in the room, Steve appeared coy. Shy even. And then when Steve asked why he was interested in fucking him in that dress, he suddenly got it.

“Anyone ever take care of you, Stevie?” he murmured, slowly pulling up the folds of the dress to get at those delicious thighs.

Steve shook his head. “I’ve only had sex with girls. They tend to expect you to do all the work.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Eddie cooed. “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.”

Steve threw his head back and moaned as Eddie caressed the sides of his thighs.

“That’s it,” Eddie purred, mouthing along the expanse of Steve’s neck, “you sound so good.”

He tucked the dress behind his beautiful cock and sank to his knees.

Steve’s hands immediately buried into Eddie’s hair, pulling him all the way onto his cock.

Eddie lifted one of Steve’s legs and tucked it over his shoulder. He took the spit and slick from his blowjob and coated his fingers.

He pressed one finger into Steve and the boy let out the most delicious sounds.

Eddie wished he could swallow them up, but he would have to settle for swallowing Steve down entirely.

He continued to open Steve up and suck him off. Suddenly Steve was coming in ribbons down Eddie’s throat.

Eddie stood up and kissed Steve dirtily, mouth still slick with his cum.

Steve let out a low whine, taking in as much of Eddie as he could.

Eddie gathered up the skirt of the dress and pressed into to Steve’s hands. “Hold on tight to that, darling. We don’t want to get anything on it, right?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie lined himself up and slowly pierced Steve’s ass.

“Eddie!” he cried. “Oh god!”

Eddie took that as encouragement and slid all the way to the hilt.

Steve wanted to gripped the back of Eddie’s shirt and fist his hair, but his hands were occupied by the skirt of his dress. He held on tight, barely holding on as Eddie fucked him wildly.

Soon Eddie was coming into Steve, in rough, hopeless waves.

Steve let out a breathless sigh. “God, oh fuck.” He moved to lower his hands but Eddie stopped him.

“We need to get you out of this dress first, darlin’,” he murmured into Steve’s ear, “then you can lower your arms, all right?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Eddie giggled at how far gone Steve was. He removed the dress and hung everything up their proper places, while Steve laid there prone, panting for air.

Once Steve was able to catch his breath, he asked, “How did you know where everything went?”

Eddie turned back to him with a grin. “This is where my club meets for D&D. Hellfire, ever heard of it?”

Steve nodded. “I’ve got these kids I babysit that love that game. It’s all they’ve been talking about when it comes to picking out classes and clubs for next year.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow and sat down to watch Steve clean up himself and get dressed. He wondered where it was all going to go from there. Would Steve throw him out? Punch him? Mock him?

“I think you’ve ruined me for anyone else,” Steve muttered darkly as he ran his hand through his hair. He stood there in sweatpants and ratty old sweater, looking every bit as beautiful as he had in the dress.

Eddie grinned. “Yeah, big boy? How’s that?”

“I don’t think I’ve come so hard in my life.”

Eddie cackled. “Right back atcha, sweetheart.”

Steve blushed and walked over to stand between Eddie’s legs. “We’ve had dessert, what would you say to a late dinner?”

Eddie smiled up at him and then pulled him down for a kiss. “Sounds perfect, Stevie.”

“I call bullshit,” Brian said the next morning at their lockers when Eddie told them. “There is no way you sucked Harrington’s dick.”

“Did a slight more than that, Bri,” Eddie crowed.

Jeff frowned. “Prove it.” He jutted his chin across the hall. “There’s your boy as you say. Go get him.”

“And even if it is true,” Gareth growled. “There is no way he’d associate with you in the middle of the whole fucking school. He’s going to break your heart and we’ll have to pick up the pieces.”

“Watch and learn, boys,” Eddie said.

He strutted across the hall to Steve and placed his hand on the locker by Steve’s head.

Steve turned around. “Oh, hey, Eddie.”

Eddie smirked. “Morning, princess.”

Steve leaned against the lockers and laughed. “I’m the ugly step-sister, remember. Not the princess.”

“You were as pretty as one last night,” Eddie teased.

Steve grinned and put his arms around Eddie’s neck. “Hmm...that kind of talk is what got us in that position in the first place.”

Eddie grinned right back, putting his hands on Steve’s waist. “You saying flattering works on you, sweetheart?”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “I’m saying it doesn’t hurt.”

They kissed.

“Am I going to see you at lunch?” Eddie asked, pressing their foreheads together.

Steve shook his head. “You have first lunch and I have second.”

“So cruel,” he murmured, his thumb rubbing a patch of bare skin between Steve’s jeans and where his sweater had risen up because of his arms around Eddie’s neck.

“I’ll see you after school, okay?”

Eddie nodded. “It’ll be torment until I see you again.”

“For me, too,” Steve breathed.

And then Eddie was digging his fingers into Steve’s sides, tickling him.

“Eddie!” Steve protested, laughing.

Eddie leaned forward and kissed the smile off his face. “Later, Princess.”

“Later, Eds.”

Eddie turned and walked away.

“Eddie!” Steve called out. “Catch!”

Eddie managed to catch whatever it was on sheer instinct. He looked at it to see that it was Steve’s varsity basketball ring.

“Hold on to that for me,” he said with a smile. “It’s special to me.”

Eddie saluted and practically skipped back to his friends.

Steve laughed, shaking his head fondly.

****

Part 2 Part 3

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @yikes-a-bee @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #smut #fluff #wayne munson is a good parent

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skinomyteethh · 1 year ago

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₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘ skinomyteeth introduction!

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ☆ angie or ang. she/her. leo. half finnish. half mexican. violinist. archer. photographer. journalist. psychology nerd. i write fan-fiction for 60s-90s musicians. i speak spanish, english, french, finnish and german. requests are always open.

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ bands & groups i write for: metallica, megadeth, guns n' roses, motley crue, aerosmith, bon jovi, van halen, the doors, L.A. guns, led zepplin, hanoi rocks, poison, ramones, skid row, etc.

all i ask is that you’re patient w me i might not answer your message or ask right away, i promise im not ignoring you!! I don’t write any “heavily dark” or dark content (things that involve incest, pedophilia, heavy gore, abuse of any kind, and no piss or other questionable kinks. don’t b scared to send req for drabbles i promise u im v nice!! I write do smut, I sadly don't write for male readers but I do write gender neutral stories if requested, if you wanna be friends just hmu on here! im free almost all the time

(posting is scary + I forgot who to cred for the divider)

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sadhours · 2 years ago

Text

Wicked Sensation

part three // billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, underage drinking, drinking and then driving, smut, billy masturbates, oral (f receiving), p in v, uh body fluids?

Billy liked you. You mostly kept to yourself but you were a wild child, he could tell. He’d seen you through your window, dancing in your room while you blasted music and drank beers. Every few hours you’d go outside for a smoke and he’d close his blinds so you couldn’t see him. He loved the music he could hear coming from your window. Metallica, Skid Row, Ratt, Def Leppard, Dio and the occasional Black Sabbath. When you’d dive into New Wave you’d lose him a bit until he’d seen how much fun you were having. You seemed carefree but yet there was something reserved about you. Something maybe he could tease out of you.

He’d definitely pleasured himself to the thought of it, not until after thumbing through his girly magazines but your face and wild hair flooded his mind when he looked at the girls in the magazine. He’d tossed the magazine on the ground, laying back on his bed and palmed himself through his jeans. He thought about the way you’d look riding him with your hair and tits bouncing. The way your mouth would hang open but the sides of your lips tugged up in a smile and he quickly undid his jeans, pulling his hard cock out of his jeans and started stroking himself long and slow at first. He imagined your eyes getting misty and you panting, making his movements quicker and quicker. Then he imagined his name falling out of your lips and he came undone, spilling out over his hand and shirt. When he’d cleaned up, he lit a cigarette and opened his blinds, seeing you perched outside having your own cigarette and he couldn’t help but think maybe you’d just done the same thing he did. It was midnight, after all.

The next day at school, you wore leather pants and he knew he was in for another late night.

—

Halloween came slower than he had wanted but it was finally here. He couldn’t be bothered to put together a costume but he wore his favorite leather jacket, leather fingerless gloves with his tightest 501’s. He’d spent a substantial amount of time in the bathroom. Max banging on the door to tell him to get a move on but Neil knocking on the door had him out of there sooner than he’d wanted. He finished his hair routine in his room, blinds open to see if he could get a glimpse of you getting ready. He grabs his cologne, dabbing on it neck and then just above his dick, on the blonde curls neatly trimmed there. He did this anytime he went on. Just in case, he told himself.

When he’s finished, he quietly slips out his house, making sure not to shut the door too hard. He jogs up to your house and knocks three times, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he waits. He expects you to answer but instead your father does and Billy’s a bit apprehensive, he doesn’t do well with parents. Plus, he’s not wearing a shirt.

Your dad is kind, he lets you do your own thing and tries not to interfere too much. He opens the door and tells Billy, “Past the kitchen, first door on the left.”

Billy is thankful your dad forgoes the formalities. He gets a glimpse of your brother, roughly Max’s age, sitting on couch with a costume he can’t quite pick out. He’s got those visor sunglasses on but nothing else gives an indication of what he’s supposed to be.

As Billy makes it to the hall he can hear your choice of music. Still of the Night by Whitesnake making your door vibrate. The musics loud enough that Billy doesn’t even bother knocking, twisting the door open to reveal you standing in your bra looking down at the two shirts laid out on your bed with a pensive look on your face. Billy moves to shut the door again but you stop him. “Wait, help,” you say and you’ve already had a few beers, the alcohol in your system giving you a bit of confidence and shoving your inhibitions further away.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him, looking at you inquisitively. “I don’t know which one to pick,” you admit, gesturing to the shirts on your bed. One is a leather halter top and the other is a cropped black button up with eccentric buttons.

Obviously Billy leans towards the halter top, pointing at it without a thing to say. You nod, “I was thinking that one too.”

You slip it on, then grabbing a studded leather jacket and putting that on as well. You turn to him, “Okay, I’m ready.”

He looks at your eye makeup and tilts his head, knowing this must be a costume but not sure what of. His curiosity obvious to you so you tell him, “I’m Alice Cooper.”

“No more Mr. Nice Guy,” he quips and you giggle which is not something he’d heard from you yet. He loves the sound.

You open your door and pull him through it, letting go of his jacket when you get into the kitchen because you don’t want your dad to read into this. Billy is just giving you a ride to the party, nothing more.

“Bye,” you tell your dad with a kiss to the cheek.

“Be safe, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he says as you and Billy slip out the door. Billy thinks about how nice of an interaction that was. How your dad didn’t try to control any aspect of you and how that made him a bit jealous.

You walk to his Camaro, feeling your buzz as you tell him, “I love your car, I don’t think I’ve told you that.”

He slips inside, sliding his key in the ignition and turning it. The blue car comes alive with a rumble and it makes your body tingle. He pumps the acceleration a few times to really drive the point across, putting on a show for you.

You hum happily, lighting a cigarette as he peels out, down the street and the houses flying by. The comfortability you feel in this moment is something you wanna feel forever. If you could forever feel the buzz of alcohol and a pretty boy driving you anywhere fast, you would.

Billy has a Ted Nugent cassette in and you cringe, there’s only one song on this album you like. You prop open his glove box and dig through the tapes he has, but nothing quite feels right for the moment. You purse your lips as you lean back, excited for the party. You lived for this stuff, everyone was a little more laid back at parties, they got along.

“Had you a little pre party, did ya?” Billy asks, turning the music down.

“A few beers while I got ready,” you shrug, wondering if you seemed drunk already.

Billy makes it to a stretch of road with no curves for at least a few miles, “Me too.” and with the words he floors it.

You scream with a huge smile on your face, your hands gripping the sides of the seat. The way you sound drives him a little insane, feeling the way his dick twitches in his tight pants at getting the reaction from you. Wild child, he thinks as he glances at you. He’d always wanted girls to act this way. You didn’t talk too much, you didn’t tell him meaningless details about your day at the mall or the gossip at school. You could be uptight but it was in an alluring way, a way that had him wanting more.

However, he didn’t expect for you to disappear the second you arrive at the party. In fact, it kind of pissed him off. But once Tommy saw him, he was ushering him to the keg and telling him he just had to beat Steve’s record. He doesn’t see you again for about two hours, catching you inside with your makeup smeared as you take a shot of whiskey with a group of guys. He feels protective, snaking his way between you and some kid he’s seen around school.

You grin at the resurgence of Billy, loving that you can see the sweat and beer on his bare chest. You’ve had enough to drink to where you’re no longer pushing the sexual thoughts you have about him down. They’re now at the forefront of your mind when you see him.

“Have a shot with me!” you insist, pouring Billy one before he can answer. But he couldn’t say no to you anyhow.

You cheers, clinking your glasses together before tapping them on the counter and then down the hatch they go. You two don’t break eye contact the entire time. The group of men around you had kind of dispersed when Billy walked up, aside from two of them. The four of you somewhat engage in conversation but a song comes on that makes you wanna dance.

The Lovecats by The Cure isn’t necessarily Billy’s thing but he doesn’t protest as you drag him into the crowd of teenagers dancing. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull his body into yours. He places his hands on your hips, swaying with you.

So wonderfully, wonderfully, wonderfully, wonderfully pretty. Oh you’d know that I’d do anything for you.

The words make Billy snort quietly because that’s how he feels looking at you and he has never felt that about another person.

As the song comes to an end, you lean into his ear and whisper, “Take me home…”

Again, no protest, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the crowd and to his Camaro parked on the street.

The drive is quick, you smoke two cigarettes on the way but you share them both with Billy.

Billy notices your dads car is gone when he pulls up. “Where’s your dad?” He wonders aloud.

“Oh, he’s at his girlfriend’s house… my brothers with him,” you answer, opening the car door and stumbling out of it.

Billy tilts his head as he watches you, “You good, sweetheart?”

The nickname makes you giggle and you feel the heat fill between your legs, “Yes, sir! I’m great.”

You lead him into your house after fumbling with the key for a brief moment. Billy locks the door behind him, following to the kitchen where you fill two glasses of water and handing him one. He takes it gratefully, gulping some of it down before you two reach your bedroom. You set your glass down on your nightstand and fall back on your bed, eyes dark as you gawk up at Billy. He sits on your bed, looking around your room and you think about what Stephanie had said about him.

“I mean like he knew what he was doing, he wasn’t awkward about it at all. The man knew what he wanted.”

Billy was being awkward. But you couldn’t fathom why he’d come to your bedroom with you if he didn’t want to have sex with you. You take a pointed foot and shove him with him, a mischievous grin on your face. He finally looks at you, his lips turned up in a smile and his gorgeous blue eyes darting across your upper half.

“Pick some music to play,” you tell him and motion towards your stereo and cassette collection.

He obeys, holding up Master of Reality by Black Sabbath. You nod amusingly, sitting up to shrug your jacket off and then sliding your boots off. Billy does the same after putting the album on, now just wearing his jeans and fingerless gloves. He’s more quiet than you’d imagined, which you had many many times. But in your fantasies he’s eager and saying filthy things to you.

“C’mere,” you instruct, sitting up on your feet. When he sits across from you, the both of you instinctively lean in. Your lips meet and it’s gentle at first. But then it’s like a switch flipped in Billy and he grabs the back of your head, sliding his tongue past your lips. You gasp at the change of pace, falling on your back with him on top of you. He moves his hands from the back of your head to your jaw and his gloves feel nice on your skin.

His fingertips move slowly down from your face to your chest, his lips following suit but pausing at your neck. Reactively, you tilt your head back while he plants sloppy kisses on your neck. A whimper escapes when he sucks your skin between his lips and your legs spread a little further exposing more of his clothed excitement against yours.

Feeling his erection has you laugh excitedly, your body dripping in anticipation for what’s to come. He pulls back at the laugh and looks up at you through his dark and heavy eyelashes. He’s so pretty you could almost die right now. “Tickles?” he asks, his voice low with hunger.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his lips back to yours. “Feels so good,” you say into his mouth.

Billy begins to mess with the laces up the front of your top but gets frustrated when he can’t quite figure how to untie it. He sits back on his feet to get a better look but to no avail. He tugs harshly at the strings which jerks your upper body off the mattress, “How do you fucking get this thing off?”

The roughness of his movements takes your breath away but his frustration is adorable. You grab onto the hem and pull the top up and over your head, tossing it onto the floor with a cavalier smile. He rolls his eyes but is quick to reach his hand around your back and undo your bra in one swift motion. He drags it off of you and throws it behind him, a soft thud as it smacks against a poster on your wall before falling to the floor.

The cold air hits your chest but his mouth is efficient in warming you up, taking a nipple into his mouth while the other is covered by his hand. Your hand snakes up to the back of his neck, fingers tangling between the long curls there. “Oh, Billy…” you gasp and he responds with teeth, biting the tender skin.

But he stops and you’re eyes pry open at the surprise, not wanting this to end so soon. Luckily, you catch him tugging off his leather gloves and hear him mutter in a guttural tone, “Wanna feel you.”

Your head swims when he resumes heavy lips on your breast, his hand squeezing the other gently. You silently tell yourself you’re an idiot for ignoring the way you’d felt about him. If you could’ve been feeling this good the second you met him then you’ve missed out.

His hands smooth down your sides until his fingertips meet your waistband. He shimmies your pants down, your bum lifting to make it easier and they’re off in a heap next to the mattress. A scoff leaves his lips when he sees you weren’t wearing underwear. You shrug and tell him, “Can’t wear any with those pants, major panty lines.”

His curls bounce as he shakes his head a bewildered smile on his face, “You wore ‘em to school this week.”

“Enough talking,” you demand, getting impatient as your core is exposed to him and all he does is stare at it.

He slaps you down there and replies, “I’ll talk all I want.” You don’t mind though as he drags his fingers up and down your folds. Your head props up to watch him work while he mumbles, “Soaking for me.”

Biting your lip, you adjust your legs to give him ample room to continue. “Always so wet when I’m around?” he wonders aloud with a cocky grin plastered on his gorgeous face.

“Maybe,” you moan out as he slides a single digit inside of you.

You’re not sure exactly what it is, especially since it’s so early in the act but Billy is the best sexual partner you’ve had. Neither of you are remotely close to finishing but this is the best feeling you’ve ever had in your life. It could be the way he looks at you, eye contact was never something you did during sex. It always felt distracting but with Billy, it’s just urging that release along.

With his left on pushing slightly on your stomach, he adds a second finger inside you and instantly curls them. You gasp, your hands moving anywhere and everywhere trying to find something to squeeze. You actually sit up to grab at his shoulders, which in turns gives you a better view of what he’s doing. His thumb brushes up against your clit, just gently like he’s testing it out.

“Dear god,” you growl, your eyes meeting while he picks up his pace.

“M’names Billy,” he corrects you sarcastically and you want to slap him for teasing you like that now.

In a few seconds, you start to feel that rise in your stomach. It pushes you on your back and you spread your legs just a bit more, his fingers sliding in and out fast. He doesn’t forget to curl them up every few strokes.

Billy inches down the bed a little and his head dips down between your legs while his fingers stay inside you. He licks broadly against your clit, his tongue strong and certain. You cry out, fingers gripping onto his mullet. He looks up at you but your heads back, eyes closed as your back arches. He takes it as a sign and starts lapping at you with his tongue, quickly. Of course it doesn’t take any longer, your legs closing with him between them as you reach your high.

“Billy, yes!” you pant out, pulling his hair.

He pulls away quickly, not giving you any time to come down and crashes his lips onto yours. The kiss is all tongue and teeth, while your legs and arms wrap around him. Then he moves his hands between the two of you, able to unbuckle his belt and push his pants and briefs down to his thoughts with your help.

He strokes himself a few times before pressing his tip to your clit and dragging it through your folds, gathering the wetness. He bites his lip and there’s an uncertainty in his eyes. He doesn’t have a condom. You look at him and whisper, “I’m on the pill.”

Which isn’t exactly the protection he’s looking for but it’s enough for him, his lips tugging up as he directs his tip back down to your entrance and pushes it in. You gasp at its thickness, your fingernails digging into his shoulder.

“You’re so tight,” he says it like he can’t believe it. You almost tell him maybe he’s too big but you don’t want it to go to his head so you just whimper instead before pulling his lips back to yours, licking into it as he parts his lips.

He inches in further and the sensation in utterly intoxicating, your breath caught in your throat and you head feels fuzzy. All of you feels fuzzy almost. Once he bottoms out, he pulls back to look at you and the eye contact this time is even more intense as he thrusts against you.

You’re an absolute puddle beneath him. His name spilling out of your mouth over and over, almost like a chant. The eye contact doesn’t break either, which would in other circumstance would be uncomfortable but it’s like you’re both in a trance.

He doesn’t last long but either do you, once his hand wraps around your throat loosely you’re falling over the edge for the second time. He follows suit, pulling out and finishing on your stomach and chest. A bit of it actually gets on your chin and you can’t help but want to taste it, bringing your finger to wipe it and slipping the finger in your mouth. The action brings a bit more out of Billy, seemingly shocking the both of you but he laughs. “I could’ve just finished in your mouth, if you’d asked.”

You shyly giggle, “Had a hard time thinking, if I had tried to ask it probably would’ve came out as gibberish.”

He falls beside you on the bed and you look up at him, “Mind grabbing something off the floor so I can clean up?”

“Oh yeah! Sorry,” he sits up and reaches down to grab a ratty band t-shirt you’d left strewn by the bed. He cleans it up for you.

Now is the awkward part. You worry he’ll leave, you’ve never had someone stay and for the first time you minded. Billy stands back up and grabs his briefs, stepping into them before he walks to your bed. His fingers curl around the glass of water on your bedside table and he hands it to you.

“Hydrate,” he says. You obey, sitting up to take a few gulps. When you hand it back he does the same. But then he lays back on the bed, arms behind his head as he turns to you with a soft smile on his face. Your heart flutters and you curl up into his side. Good, he’s staying.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove fic

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weemssapphic · 2 years ago

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Would you be willing to write Larissa Weems x nb!teacher!reader smut (still female anatomy though, but without a focus on r’s chest please) where they are watching the school play/musical and Larissa starts teasing reader? Like caresses on the inside of r’s thigh, inching dangerously close to their clit, etc., to the point that they have to leave to go fuck it out somewhere else (you can choose where exactly). And if you could, maybe strong praise kink with dom!Larissa? I love your writing so much omg omg omg it’s so good!!

hello! thank you for the request, and the compliment! <3 i had fun writing it so i hope you have just as much fun reading it and that it lives up to your expectations. also Enid is clearly my favorite Nevermore student so SUE me lmao. as always, ao3 link is in the title! ^^ warnings/content: nsfw (cunnilingus - Larissa receiving, fingering - reader receiving), dom!larissa, teasing/edging, semi-public sexual activity, praise kink, mentions of marking/scratching

words: ~3.9k

when the lights go down

“Hey, you’re gonna do great, okay? I promise!” Enid was practically trembling under your gaze, eyes wide, and you pulled her into a tight hug. As the teacher in charge of Ophelia Hall, you’d grown close to the young girl in your past year at Nevermore. She saw you as a bit of a mentor, often staying after class to help you clean up your classroom and ask you for advice, which you happily gave her - she reminded you a bit of your childhood best friend. You found yourself biting back wide grins as she would recount the latest gossip about her peers, always bursting with more energy in a single second than you thought you’d ever had in your entire life.

Other students bustled around the two of you as you stood backstage, when the lights out in the auditorium began to dim.

“I gotta go okay, and you’d better get back in the dressing room. Break a leg, kid,” you gave her a final smile and pushed her towards the girl’s dressing room, waving to some of your other students who were huddled behind the curtain and giving them a thumbs up before sneaking out the back. You hurried your way through the hallways and slipped into the auditorium, scanning the rows for a place to sit.

The entire front row was reserved for the teachers and your heart skipped a beat at the fact that the only empty seat left was next to none other than your boss, Larissa Weems.

“Hi,” you were breathless when you arrived at the seat. “Is this seat taken?”

“I should hope so,” Larissa looked up at you, her smile blinding, gesturing for you to sit.

“Enid’s very nervous,” you whispered in her ear, committing the way her eyes crinkled at the outer corner to memory.

“Miss Sinclair will be excellent. I’ve played Audrey myself, in fact -”

Oh? You wanted to probe her further on this revelation, but your conversation was cut short by the overture of that night’s show - Little Shop of Horrors.

The students were fabulous of course. Enid had nothing to worry about - the second she began her solo in “Skid Row (Downtown)”, you knew her worries were for naught. You couldn’t help but glance up at the blonde sitting next to you, wondering how she might have sounded in the same part. She was watching the stage with rapt attention, lips parted slightly, eyes sparkling.

Your cheeks warmed as sapphire eyes met yours in the darkness - you’d been caught staring. You averted your gaze back to the stage, trying your hardest to focus on your students and the production they were putting on - not that it wasn’t spectacular, truly. But your thoughts kept wandering back to a certain blonde principal, whose body heat you could practically feel radiating off of her at such a close proximity.

To how she would look gracing the stage with her regal presence, to how her angelic voice would sound crooning out some melody or other (you hadn’t known she could sing, foolishly hadn’t presumed she was into musical theater - what else didn’t you know about her?). To how lovely she looked tonight, a string of pearls kissing the smooth skin of her neck, a cream-colored dress caressing every curve of her body.

Christ, stop it. You chanced another glance at the blonde - only to realize she wasn’t watching the musical at all. She was watching you, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Larissa?” You felt utterly exposed under her gaze.

“I feel I’ve flustered you,” she whispered, ducking her head so no one else would hear her. You could see amusement sparkle in her eyes.

“I’ve just been trying to picture you as Audrey this whole time,” you whispered back, reveling in the giggle she had to suppress at your comment. You’d never heard Larissa Weems giggle before, much less been the reason for a giggle of hers - you wanted to commit the sound to memory, to take it to your grave as a treasured gift.

“I knew it,” she smirked. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it sometime, darling.” You couldn’t help but notice how her voice dropped a bit at the pet name, subtly yet still noticeably. She placed a reassuring hand just above your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, and it took every ounce of willpower not to openly shiver at the touch.

You turned your attention back to the stage, acutely aware of how Larissa’s thumb began to trace soothing circles on the inside of your thigh. At first, you weren’t sure she was aware she was doing it, when you peered at her out of the corner of your eye and she was watching the current song “Mushnik & Son” as if it were the most riveting thing she’d ever seen.

It soon became apparent, however, that she was more than aware of her actions, when her hand shifted higher on your thigh, subtly but definitely higher. Her thumb pressed insistently into the flesh of your inner thigh and you had to suppress a moan, cheeks burning brightly in the dark auditorium.

Ms. Thornhill, who was sitting to your right, turned to look at you with furrowed brows, and you sputtered out a weak cough in an attempt to conceal the moan that had peeled from your chest moments before.

You were disappointed to note the sudden absence of Larissa’s hand on your leg, cursing yourself for ruining the moment. Great. Now she won’t touch you for the rest of the evening.

“Sorry, Marilyn, I think I’m getting sick,” you shot her an apologetic glance, clearing your throat awkwardly.

Her eyes searched your face for a moment before her features softened, her hand giving your shoulder a sympathetic squeeze before she turned her attention back to the stage. You let out a defeated sigh and slumped back into your seat, stewing in your own misery at the desperate, building ache between your thighs.

The fabric of your slacks shifted slightly as Larissa’s fingers returned to their former position, continuing their tantalizing ministrations. What was Larissa doing? Surely this woman would be the death of you… Her palm was warm against your leg and a fresh wave of arousal pooled at the apex of your thighs as you shifted in your seat in an urgent attempt to gain some sort of friction to relieve the tension building in your core.

Larissa’s hand caressed the top of your thigh, stopping just shy of your center, coming to rest. She leaned back in her seat as Enid began to croon out “Somewhere That’s Green” and you huffed in frustration, the coil behind your navel wound tight. You glowered up at Larissa until she finally, mercifully, looked down at you, eyes darkened with desire.

You bucked your hips up into her hand, forcing her fingertips to brush against your clit. She sucked in a breath, eyes darting down to your lap then up to the stage, as if contemplating something.

Her lips brushed against your ear, breath fanning across your neck, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as goosebumps erupted on your skin. Her voice was low and breathy as she murmured in your ear. “Follow me in 2 minutes, darling.”

With that, she stood and left the auditorium. You watched her go, mesmerized by the sway of her hips, slightly dizzy as you wrestled with your own desire.

The longest 2 minutes of your life.

Once you were sure you’d waited long enough, you followed Larissa’s path out of the auditorium. As soon as the door swung shut behind you, a pair of strong arms pinned you to the wall of the hallway and a warm mouth latched onto your skin, peppering open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. Larissa’s body pressed flush against yours, trapping you between her and the wall.

“Rissa,” you whimpered as one of her thighs came between yours and pressed into your center. You felt as if you were burning alive from the inside, desperate for her touch and already absolutely drenched.

“Shhh,” Larissa silenced you with a searing kiss, swiping at your lips with her tongue. You moaned into her mouth and she nipped gently at your lower lip.

“Come with me,” Larissa threaded her fingers between your own, the close contact sending a shiver up your spine, and began a brisk pace down the hallway. You followed in a daze, hardly able to believe your luck.

You’d harbored a crush on the woman since you’d started at Nevermore. Well… to call it a crush would be a bit of an understatement. You were quite sure you were in love with her. Everything about her drew you in - the soft, almost maternal smiles she would give passing students, the little creases that would form between her eyebrows when she was deep in thought, the way she seemed to be able to calm your nerves with nothing more than a hand on your shoulder and a whispered praise in your ear.

But she was your boss, for fuck’s sake. Not to mention intelligent, stunning, put-together, a consummate professional… Why would she be interested in you? And yet here she was, dragging you down the hallway to… your own classroom?

Larissa fished her master key out of the pocket of her blazer and unlocked your door, all but pushing you into the classroom, locking the door behind the two of you.

“Don’t you look simply divine tonight?” Larissa husked, inching towards you like a tiger stalking their prey. You stepped back out of instinct, bumping into your desk. You couldn’t even the count the number of times you’d sat at that very desk, picturing yourself bent over it as Larissa towered over you, fucking you into oblivion. And here you were…

You gulped audibly, every nerve-ending in your body alight, heat pooling in your core. Larissa’s pupils were wide, eyes darkened with lust in a way you’d only seen in your wildest fantasies.

She stopped in front of you, her breath warm and delicious on your face, raising the hairs on your arms. “I have wanted you since I first met you, my darling.” You whimpered, reaching out desperately and rather pathetically to pull Larissa towards you by the lapels of her blazer, rushing to crash your lips together. You felt the blonde smile against your lips, her hands coming to rest on your waist.

“Tell me, can you be good for me tonight? Do you want this just as much as I do?” Her whispers against your lips shot straight to your cunt.

“Yes, Larissa, god yes. I want this.” Larissa smirked, sliding the blazer from her shoulders to reveal bare arms, pale skin dusted with light freckles that you’d never been privy to before. You traced them with your eyes, struck by the sudden sense of intimacy you felt clawing at your heart.

A whimper clawed its way from your throat as a warm hand cupped your cheek, forcing your eyes to meet sapphire pools, swimming with lust. The pad of her thumb grazed over your bottom lip, dragging it down then letting go, her eyes watching intently as it snapped back into place.

You found yourself white-knuckling the desk behind you in an attempt to keep your knees from giving out as Larissa’s fingers began to toy with the button of your slacks, her teeth sinking into her lip in question. “May I?”

“Do you have to ask?” Your voice was hoarse as you tried to rasp out an answer. The salacious smirk you received in return had you nearly melting on the spot, and Larissa wasted no time in dragging the slacks down your legs, nails raking at tender flesh on their way down.

Larissa pulled you in for a heated kiss, teeth and tongues clashing, picking you up to set you on the edge of your desk. She rounded the desk until she was behind you, pulling you back against her until you could feel the swell of her breasts pressing deliciously into your back.

Larissa’s hot breath ghosted over your neck as she nibbled on your earlobe, before her lips latched onto your pulse point. Her hands soothed over your torso, moving lower and lower until her right hand finally dipped between your thighs, knuckles brushing the damp patch at the center of your underwear. You felt a groan from Larissa’s chest vibrate against your spine.

“So wet already and I haven’t even touched you yet?” The low timbre of her voice caused a fresh wave of arousal to leak out of your core.

“Larissa, I-I need you, you have no idea,” you hissed as her fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your underwear and teased your entrance.

“I think I may have an idea, my darling,” the blonde cooed, finally applying the pressure you’d been searching for as she swiped two fingers up your slit. You moaned, bucking your hips up just as her fingers reached your throbbing clit.

She began to massage the bundle of nerves, drawing a series of moans from your lips as her own lips focused on your neck, your jaw, your shoulder, leaving little bite marks which she soothed with her tongue.

“Rissa, please, I need more,” you gasped, rolling your hips in time with her fingers in search of more friction.

You could feel Larissa’s smile against the bare skin of your shoulder as her fingers dipped lower, spreading your folds on their way to your dripping hole. She dipped the tip of a finger into your entrance, immediately letting out a groan directly into your ear.

“I love how wet you are for me.” Her finger dipped further into your core, pumping slowly in and out, before adding a second finger, stretching you out.

“You take me so well, my love,” Larissa cooed, her thumb coming up to continue drawing languid circles around your aching clit. Long, slender fingers curled into your sweet spot and you arched into Larissa’s touch, hips twitching.

Larissa could sense that you were getting close as your walls began to clench around her fingers, drawing them further into you, as your thighs began to tremble. She withdrew her fingers from your cunt, tracing your entrance with the pads of her fingers as she slowed her pace on your clit to languid strokes.

You whined at the loss of contact, bucking your hips up as the coil behind your navel twisted almost painfully.

“What do you say, darling?” The blonde teased.

“P-please,” you didn’t care how desperate you sounded, you needed Larissa inside of you again.

“Please, what?” She peppered soft kisses down the side of your neck, fingers gliding through your wetness so lightly you almost felt you were imagining her touch.

You squeezed your eyes shut, desperately rutting your hips against the air. “Please fuck me, I-I need you inside.”

Larissa’s fingers pressed more firmly now, giving in and providing you with more friction. She slid back inside you, curling her fingers just so as her thumb circled your clit.

“Right there,” you panted out between moans. “Faster.”

Larissa obliged, adjusting her pace as she added a third finger. You teetered on the verge of your orgasm, thrusting your hips up to meet her fingers, thighs twitching. The air between the two of you was charged with electricity, your body tingling from head to toe.

“That’s it my darling,” Larissa cooed, and you let out a low whine, your pussy clenching around her fingers. “You like being called mine?” You felt more than heard Larissa’s low chuckle as you nodded against her. You would be hers in whatever capacity she would allow it, in whatever capacity she wanted or needed you to be.

“You’re doing so well for me,” she murmured. “Can you come for me?” Reaching behind you, you grasped at Larissa’s shoulders to steady yourself as you reached your high, thighs quivering as a string of obscenities dripped from your lips.

Larissa’s left hand was splayed across your stomach, pulling you firmly into her, grounding you as you rode out your climax. Her lips were on your ear, whispering faint praises that were lost on you in the moment, too focused on steadying your breathing.

“You look so ravishing when you come undone like that,” Larissa whispered in your ear as your breathing slowed. You turned your head, fingers twisting into the blonde’s silvery strands to pull her in for a bruising kiss.

She brought her fingers up to her lips, shining with the evidence of your orgasm. Her tongue swirled obscenely around the digits and she let out a guttural moan, immediately pulling you in for another kiss so you could taste yourself on her tongue.

“Fuck, Larissa, I need to taste you.” You watched the grin unfold on Larissa’s face as she dragged you towards the edge of the desk, sitting back in your desk chair - your desk chair, the one you sat in 5 days a week and would surely never see the same way again. She hiked her dress up around her waist, hooking her fingers around the waistband of her white lace panties and dragging them down her legs to reveal her own glistening arousal.

“Come here and take care of me, then,” Larissa husked, and you were off the desk and perched on your knees between her legs within seconds. After pressing alternating kisses up the insides of Larissa’s thighs, you flattened your tongue and dragged it slowly up her cunt.

“Just like that, right there,” Larissa breathed. Your lips closed around her clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive bundle of nerves, pleased with the low whine you were able to elicit from the blonde.

She draped her thigh over your shoulder, the tip of her heel digging sharply into your back, a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. Your arms wrapped around her legs to steady yourself, surrounding yourself in Larissa.

“That feels so good, darling,” she moaned as she writhed beneath you, fucking herself on your face. You lapped at Larissa’s core, letting out unrestrained moans as you were finally given the pleasure of being able to taste the woman’s sweet nectar. The heat of her on your tongue only fueled your own carnal desire.

Larissa’s breath hitched in her chest as your tongue dipped into her entrance. “You know exactly how to make me feel good,” she breathed, her hands weaving themselves into your hair, fingernails scratching at your scalp.

You groaned into her pussy, the vibrations drawing heavenly sounds from her throat. Gazing up at her, you were in awe of her blissed out face, eyes screwed shut, head thrown back in ecstasy, mouth hanging open. Her cheeks were flushed the most adorable shade of pink and you felt wickedly proud of yourself in that moment to be the one bringing Larissa to the height of her pleasure.

Suddenly, Larissa’s hand pulled at your hair and forced you to still your movements.

Larissa had stilled above you, her attention turned towards the door of your classroom. You strained your ears, unable for a moment to focus on anything but the dizzying sensation of Larissa Weems on your tongue, Larissa’s skin pressed against yours.

But then you heard it, the hallway flooding with students. The musical must be over by now, everyone must be heading out of the auditorium. Would anyone come looking for you? Or for Larissa? Surely no one had even noticed the two of you were gone. Right? In any case, it was too late now.

Your eyes wandered back to the principal, who was gazing down at you with a fresh sense of unadulterated hunger - cheeks flushed, chest heaving.

“Are you going to finish what you started?” Her voice was low and raspy, barely audible above the ruckus of students and staff just outside the door.

You were all too happy to oblige, bringing your tongue back to Larissa’s center. She rolled her hips against your face, pressing her heel firmly into your upper back as her thighs began to twitch around your head.

“Make me come, love,” Larissa whispered, letting out a series of soft, breathy moans. Your gaze traveled up her body and you let out a loud groan when you caught her kneading her breasts, rolling and pinching her clothed nipples between her fingers.

“Shhh,” Larissa cooed softly, “Can you be quiet for me, love? We wouldn’t want anyone catching us.” You whimpered and nodded softly, though from the smirk Larissa was giving you, you were quite sure that she was at least a little bit turned on by the illicit nature of your situation.

“I’m s-so close,” Larissa gasped quietly, and you could tell that she was by the erratic way her hips bucked against your face, the way her heel slipped a little on your back, scratching at your skin, the way her thighs began to tremble, closing around your ears. She was losing her composure, and you were absolutely drunk on the sight.

You flicked and sucked at her clit as she came, her hands weaving themselves back into your hair to push you farther into her center, breath quickening above you. You licked at her core, gladly drinking up every drop of arousal she had to offer as she rode out her high until, finally, her thighs loosened their grip around your head and she sank back into your office chair.

When you looked up at her, she gazed down at you through heavy-lidded eyes, lipstick smudged around her mouth, a blissed-out smile playing on her face. Her hand came to cup your cheek, thumb grazing over your lips before she pulled you up for a kiss, mewling into your mouth as she cleaned her own essence off your chin.

“I suppose we’ll have to wait here until everyone has gone back to their dorms,” you teased as you straddled Larissa’s lap, eager to be as close to her as possible. Larissa hummed in agreement, pressing her forehead against yours.

The two of you breathed in tandem, simply enjoying being in the other’s company as the din in the hallway slowly faded. Larissa’s hands pressed into your back, dipping under the hem of your shirt and pulling you against her while your fingers traced patterns across the freckles on her shoulders.

“You’re stunning, Larissa,” you whispered into the crook of her neck. She craned her head back slightly to peer down at you, a faint hint of amusement glittering in those gorgeous, sapphire eyes.

“I could say the same about you, love,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair and pulling you possessively close. “However, as much as I would love to spend the night ravishing you, it is getting a bit uncomfortable here.”

“Hey, you’re the one who ordered these chairs for our classrooms,” you grinned up at her, raising an eyebrow in defiance.

“That was before I realized I’d be fucking you in one, Y/N,” Larissa replied dryly, ushering you off her lap and smoothing her dress. You dressed almost numbly, unable to take your eyes off the blonde for too long, turning her words over in your head.

The two of you made your way to the door of your classroom. “Larissa?”

“Yes?” Her voice was gravelly with desire as she smirked down at you, fingers threading through yours to pull you down the hallway in the direction of her own quarters.

You cleared your throat and quirked your brow, trying to play it cool. “I believe you said something about ‘spending the night ravishing me’?”

“Oh, darling, you didn’t think I was done with you?”

thank you to the bestest writing buddy @afeatherformills for helping me edit this and work out some things!

#larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #principal weems x reader #clearly choosing little shop as the musical was something so personal to me haha

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unknownperson246 · 5 months ago

Note

Current Rachel Bolan giving reader the best oral sex/ finger job of her life

Hi I am so sorry its late but I hope you enjoy it ❤️

Best Head

Words: 745

Warnings: *smut* *fluff* *oral sex* *begging* *f receiving* *cum play* *cum eating*

✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:*

You had just stepped out of the shower. Your body was still wet and you grabbed your towel drying yourself off in the bathroom. You were being careful and tried not to let any water droplets hit the wooden floor. You are a nurse. You were exhausted after a long day of work rushing to see how patients were doing. You took a night shift at the hospital. You got back an hour ago. You then decided to take a shower. You come out of the bathroom in your towel hugging your body. You watch your blue scrubs hanging messily on your closet door.

“I'll take care of it later.” You sigh.

As soon as you say that you hear a knock on your bedroom door.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?” Rachel, your rockstar boyfriend asked you.

“I’m fine, just a long day.” You smile slightly while watching Rachel.

Rachel watches you look at your scrubs with a scowl on your face. Your scrubs hung on the closet door in a tangled manner.

“I can take care of that for you,” He says, making his way to fold your scrubs up neatly. After he was done he put them where they would usually go. You go to the bathroom and blow dry your wet hair. Once you finish with a simple task you found heavy, you go out of the bathroom. You felt bad that you and Rachel didn't get enough time together. You craved him and you wanted him to pleasure you. He could see the disappointment on your face while you were drying your hair. He knew what you were thinking about.

“Rachel. I want you” You say smiling at him.

He goes over to you and hugs you while you're still in your towel. He unravels you out of it like it was a dress. He hangs the towel on a nearby chair. He takes his pants off.

“No Rachel, I want some head” You whine.

In a swift motion, he helped himself off the bed and got ready to give you the best oral sex of your life. Your pussy was pulsing for his tongue to touch you in an intimate manner. You felt yourself getting excited as Rachel pulled his tongue out. Your heartbeat was rising up and down. Rachel was getting turned on at the fact that he could solely get you to come with just his tongue. He went down to the apex of your thighs and he started licking the fresh coat of mint and citrus lotion that hadn't melted into your skin fully.

“Mmm Mint and Citrus” He groans in satisfaction as he can taste and gets a small whiff of your stress-relieving scent.

His mouth makes its way to your vulva starting nice and slow. His tongue fluctuates on your vulva. He slows down and licks your clit and sucks on your vulva again. You let out small moans and whimpers. His name slips out of your mouth dozens of times. You can feel his breath trickling down. Him eating you out is doing something to you. You don't ever want it to end. “Hah. Rachel” You whimper, having a strong urge to come already.

“Don't come yet. I'm not done” Rachel spits on your cunt as he continues sucking on your vulva.

“Rachel. Let me come please let me come” You beg as your grip on the bed sheets starts to undo both of the layers of bed sheets that were spread. “Not yet.” Rachel pants as he gets excited seeing you begging him.

Fresh tears start to roll down your cheeks as Rachel's tongue continues to flicker on your tongue. His tongue swirls on your clit. You need to come soon, you can't handle holding it. Rachel tastes the gooey substance oozing out of you.

“Fuck Rachel” You moan as you feel yourself helplessly coming on his tongue.

He cleans all the wet and slick off. He gets up from crouching down and he stretches. He didn't mind you not sucking him off today. He knew you were exhausted as he was himself and he wanted you to rest up. You were unphased that you just received the best oral sex you had in your life. You didn't think Rachel had it in him but you were wrong. He plops down on the bed and you both fall asleep together in that position of a long day of work you both had finished.

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rocknbolan · 6 months ago

Text

Rock Recap 6-27 into 6-28

If forced to choose a favorite guitarist, Ozzy would go with Tony Iommi. It's all in the fingers. He's also fine with being a simp for his wife, Sharon. This is too wholesome from our metal dad.

Paul from The Beatles and Brian from Queen both agree age is only really quantifiable by how your joints hurt at a given moment.

Scotti from Skid Row and Razzle from Hanoi Rocks are insomniacs apparently. Scotti apparently has also figured Rachel out.

Roger Taylor of Queen has an interesting question to pose to other rockers: Is eating a placenta considered cannibalism?

Sebastian of Skid Row accidentally hurt Scotti's feelings.

Lars of Metallica cooking up some weird ass cookies in the likeness of James. And yes, he is still a vampire who hates the sun.

The Beatles encountered a spider of terrifying proportions. George to the rescue!

Roger from Queen learned what car smut is, thanks to Lars.

Krist from Nirvana and Melissa from Hole are both enamored with their newly adopted daughter. As they should be. Hella cute kid.

Marty and Nick began shaving their heads? With Marty taking a bit too much off the top of Nick's. Dave is naturally horrified. Nail biting tension there.

Gwen Stephani @gwenstefoubt has joined the chat!

Kathleen Hanna @bikinikillhanna has joined the chat!

Pamela Anderson @iampamelaanderson has joined the chat!

And now, the weather.

Overnight freakiness was forecasted between Sebastian of Skid Row and Axl of GnR, with a side of rainy regret over never purchasing short shorts to lure Rachel with.

Freakiness continues with Ace from KISS having a thing for Eric's 800Bs

Stormy relations between Slash of Guns 'n' Roses and Nikki of Motley Crue.

Chance of Severe Bitiness from Scotti of Skid Row predicted overnight, into the morning, with chances continuing through the week.

Paul of The Beatles can't seem to get out from under rain clouds.

#rock star rp recap

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training4theapocalypse · 7 months ago

Text

Finders Keepers Ch 20. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (no smut)

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: Minor character deaths, violence

Summary: The final battle of Hogwarts

A/N: The last chapter 😢 an epilogue is on the way. This has been a blast. Thank you for reading. ❤️

Masterlist

Chapter 20: Avada Kedavra

The courtyard is eerily quiet when you and McLaggen skid to an abrupt halt on the rubble. A long streak of blood is painted across the cobblestone. And even though the thought of what caused it turns your stomach, instantly your mind begins playing it out. A faceless Death Eater blasted across the cloister. Or maybe it was a student dragging themselves away from the fighting. Or perhaps it’s the evidence of someone being tenderly carried off to somewhere safer. Assuming there’s anywhere safe left.

“Where is everyone?” The question, more to yourself than McLaggen, hangs in the chilled night air, icy on your skin after the pitch's fiery chaos. He holds one of the now-dilapidated oak front doors open and crumbling mortar silently dusts your heads and shoulders as you pass through the threshold. From a distance, you spot a familiar figure, carrying someone over one shoulder as they walk across the Entrance Hall.

“Wood?” calls McLaggen.

At least one of your group is still alive.

Oliver Wood stops in his tracks and turns, his face solemn. The realisation that the body he carries is dead and not simply injured hits you with sickening force. A young boy, blonde and no older than sixteen, hangs limp in his grasp.

“Colin Creevey,” says Wood sadly, in answer to the unasked question on the tip of your tongue. “He must have snuck back in through the Hog’s Head passageway to fight. He was only a kid.”

“Here, let me help,” says McLaggen.

“It’s alright, mate - he’s -” Wood swallows with difficulty, the sentiment choking in his throat. “He’s only a wee thing.”

“Where - where are the others?” You’re surprised when your voice too is hoarse, barely a whisper. “Did you all get back to the castle alright?”

“We did,” says Wood as you and McLaggen fall into step with him, walking back towards the Great Hall. “But once we got back it was pandemonium. We were split up. I think the girls are in the Great Hall but some of the lads and I have been busy out here - helping carry bodies back and hoping that we don’t see anyone we know.”

The lads. You breathe a sigh of relief because it means Carmichael, Davies and Krum are all right too.

“We’ll be fine,” says McLaggen determinedly. “We’re all good fighters. Not kids like Colin -”

Wood shakes his head. “It’s not just kids like Colin - members of the Order of the Phoenix are dead. You remember Professor Lupin? He’s dead. And Fred Weasley.”

“Fred Weasley?” McLaggen halts. “Back when we were in the D.A. he was one of the best.” He says it matter-of-factly like Wood must be mistaken.

“Gone,” says Wood with a sniff. “There were at least twenty bodies when I last left the Great Hall. And we keep finding more.”

A heavy silence accompanies you into the Great Hall, where the reality of war is laid bare. The sky above the enchanted ceiling is pitch black. There’s not a single star in the sky visible. Dark clouds loom so claustrophobically close it’s a wonder there’s any air in the hall at all. Dozens of the fallen are lined up along the centre of the room. Some with crying families at their side, and some, you realise with a sinking feeling, are completely alone.

Your eyes scour the room searching for your own loved ones. At this side of the row of bodies nearest you, there’s a crowd that can only be Fred Weasley’s family. Relief washes over you as you spot Angelina, at the edge of the group, sobbing on Alicia’s shoulder.

Another two who are still alive.

But your relief is short-lived when you see only Leanne and Katie at the far end of the hall, crowded around someone on the floor.

Panic makes the hair on your arm rise.

You break into a run, heart pounding, as you pass by too many bodies to count, each step fuelled by a mix of hope and dread. Leanne and Katie look up at your arrival, still holding each other, tears streaking down their faces.

Cho is kneeling on the floor, holding the lifeless hand of a girl. She has the same long, wavy, auburn hair as Marietta. But it can’t be Marietta. Eddie isn’t here. And besides, she’s covered in dust, with pieces of rubble strewn in her hair. Marietta was always fussy about her appearance. She wouldn’t be caught dead looking like this.

McLaggen catches up with you and stops dead, momentarily stunned by the scene before him. “Fuck… Marietta.” His whisper hits you like a slowing charm.

“That’s not - it’s not -” Your legs feel like lead as you take a step closer. “I don’t think it’s Marietta - I mean, her face is…” That’s not Marietta’s face. Where are her scars? You sink to your knees across from Cho to get a closer look at the girl’s face. If you look hard enough, maybe it won’t be true. You’ll find some difference. A freckle or a piercing that proves this isn’t Marietta.

“The curse must have died with her,” Cho murmurs, her voice quiet with grief as a tear drips onto Marietta’s serene, unblemished face.

“She’s so beautiful,” sobs Leanne. “I mean - not that she wasn’t before -“

Fuck.

The truth hits hard. Undeniable. Raw.

It is her.

“She was beautiful,” you agree, your voice breaking as a surge of memories overwhelms you, letting the tears flow unguarded. “Before the curse, when she had the curse and - and after.”

After. You never thought there would be a time after Marietta. Ever since your first day at Hogwarts, Marietta Edgecombe was there. After the sorting ceremony, you found yourself sitting across from her at the Ravenclaw table. You still remember the way she covered her mouth with the back of her hand and whispered something that made Cho giggle when Professor Dumbledore stood up to give his beginning-of-term speech. And it was at that point she had first seemed so different to you then. She loved gossip and fashion and makeup and boys - the two of you never really saw eye to eye. Mostly because you insisted you ‘weren’t like other girls’.

But Marietta eventually showed you that you weren’t so different to other girls after all. And that other girls had their own interests just like you. It took longer than you’d like to admit to figure out that liking flying instead of Transfiguration didn’t make you superior. And so, Marietta transfigured your dress for Slughorn’s party. And you taught her how to fly a broom well enough to go on a dangerous mission to Azkaban.

You suppose, if you let yourself think about the sad truth of it, her scars were probably the reason why she was so good at Transfiguration. She had spent a long time when you were still at Hogwarts, in the dormitory mirror with her wand pointed at her face, trying to rid herself of the scars that spelt ‘SNEAK’ across her cheeks and nose.

“How did she…?” The question dies in your throat as you look at Cho, not sure if you're ready to hear the answer. But she shakes her head. She doesn’t know. “I mean, where did you find her? And where’s Carmichael? Wasn’t he with her?” Eddie would know what had happened. “Does he even know she’s…?”

“We don’t have any answers,” says Katie not unkindly but it’s clear that your incessant questioning isn’t helping when they’re just as lost as you.

“Wood said that the guys were helping with the bodies,” McLaggen reminds you. “Maybe they’ll know more. They’ll be back in a… oh, fuck.”

McLaggen’s voice trails off and you look up to see why.

Krum and Davies walk along the length of the hall, carrying a body. Krum holding under the arms and Davies carrying the legs. As they move, Krum clenches his jaw and Davies stares straight ahead solemnly.

“Nonononono…” you whimper, getting to your feet to get out of the way so that they can set the body down next to Marietta. Your hands reach for McLaggen’s and his find you, neither of you daring to take your eyes off of the body being carried towards you as you grasp at each other’s forearms for something - anything - to cling onto.

Krum and Davies set the lifeless figure down and step out of the way. Nobody says anything for a long time as you stare down at them.

The echo of a mischievous smile is still etched on Eddie Carmichael’s face, even in death. You half expect his eyes to fly open. “Only winding you up, mucker,” he’d say, sitting upright and dusting himself off. And you’d roll your eyes and slap his arm for worrying you so. For letting the practical joke play out too long.

It’s not a joke. No matter how much you want it to be.

Carmichael.

Your last shred of hope turns to dust. Even in Azkaban, Carmichael was a vial of Awakening Potion - the jolt of energy you needed to turn the tide in the depths of your despair. He almost made Azkaban feel like a game. Reminded you that being locked up was just a temporary situation - something that would pass. But this? This is permanent.

“Where - where did you find him?” asks McLaggen. His voice is thick, barely recognisable.

Davies clears his throat. “Near the staircase behind the tapestry on the sixth floor. Longbottom said it was where he found Marietta.”

They were together.

McLaggen winces at Davies’ words and shuts his eyes momentarily, unable to bring himself to look at the lifeless figures of Marietta Edgecombe and Eddie Carmichael. You, on the other hand, can’t look away.

The dust coating their faces makes them look almost blue-tinged. The remnants of an explosion, perhaps? The broken bits of rubble are still stuck in Marietta’s hair. Trembling slightly, you crouch down to try to disentangle them with your fingers, careful not to pull at her scalp.

It’s no good.

While you’ve never had an eye for Transfiguration like Marietta, you extract McLaggen’s dad’s wand from your pocket and press it gently at the pieces of rubble and one by one, transfigure them into tiny, blue forget-me-nots.

To an onlooker, she might seem merely asleep, her hair adorned with forget-me-nots as if chosen by her own hand on a sunny day at Seafarer's Beacon. This small touch of beauty, reminiscent of the way her paper snowflakes once danced around the lighthouse stairwell or the summer wreath she hung on the front door just yesterday, captures the essence of Marietta's spirit.

She always had an eye for making this world a little more beautiful.

Cho waves her wand in a complicated figure of eight and a wreath of the same forget-me-nots flourishes into existence. She places it silently at Eddie’s head before the two of you stand up and join the rest in quiet mourning.

“You okay?” you whisper to McLaggen, noticing his ashen face. His brow furrows as if silently debating something internally.

“How long have we got before the fighting starts again?” he asks the group, breaking the silence, his words piercing the heavy air.

“Not long I reckon,” says Davies.

McLaggen’s demeanour shifts, a firm look of determination on his face. “Potter needs to hand himself in… Where is he?” He looks around the room with an intense, measured sort of calm that you’ve only witnessed once before. When he stood up in the Black Dragon and asked Marcus Flint to step outside. “I’ll hand him over myself if I have to.”

“Vot is this?” asks Krum as McLaggen makes to leave.

“Not gonna happen,” Davies tells McLaggen firmly, stepping in front of him.

“If he’d just handed himself over right at the start then Ed and Marietta would still be alive.” McLaggen tries to push past but Davies moves again.

“Handing over Potter isn’t going to bring them back -” says Davies.

For the first time, McLaggen raises his voice, drawing the attention of mourners in the hall. “How many more of us are going to have to die for him?!”

“Cormac -” you start and reach for his hand. “Marietta and Carmichael wouldn’t have wanted us to turn him in.”

“We don’t know what they’d have wanted,” he says bitterly and your own face screws up in anguish, fighting tears and unable to find the words to argue with him.

But before anyone else can argue with him an amplified voice causes the noise in the Great Hall to halt into momentary silence.

“Harry Potter is dead!”

The last word bounces around the stone walls. Dead. Dead. Dead.

There’s murmuring and hushing as You-Know-Who’s disembodied voice calls every survivor to attention. Everyone looks skywards as if it’ll make the words clearer. Make them make sense.

“He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him,” the voice continues.

You’d be the first to admit you’re not Potter’s biggest fan but from everything you’ve heard about it, you know he has the same selfless, noble streak that McLaggen and the rest of your Gryffindor friends have - and you can’t imagine any of them running away to save themselves. You furrow your eyebrows together and look at Katie - she knows Potter best. As expected, she mirrors your thoughts with a firm shake of her head.

“He wouldn’t -” Katie starts, but the voice cuts her off.

“We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and The Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered. As will every member of their family.”

The seven of you gather close as you hold your breath waiting to hear what will happen to you.

“Come out of the castle now. Kneel before me and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brother and sisters will live and be forgiven and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.”

McLaggen shakes his head. “It - it can’t all have been for nothing. Breaking them all out of Azkaban - it - it’s just can’t.”

“He’s lying. Harry’s not - he’s not dead,” says Cho with an air of trying to convince herself that it’s the truth.

You look over to where Fred Weasley’s body lies and see that Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are looking around frantically for the missing member of their trio. The pair stumble into a run, leaving the Great Hall and the rest of the survivors begin following them.

If Harry Potter isn’t dead then why are his two best friends panicking?

You stay rooted to the spot. “Look, we can’t go out there. No matter what You-Know-Who said about sparing us - Cerys told me that Muggleborns and traitors will be killed.”

“Well, we’re not going out there to surrender,” says McLaggen. “We’re going out there to fight.”

Everyone breaks into squabbling.

“They’re going to kill us,” you insist, feeling helpless as you point out the impending death sentence.

“We can’t just stay in here,” says Katie.

“Angelina and Alicia are going,” points out Leanne.

You feel like you’re going mad. Desperation grips you as you beg them to understand. “A Death Eater told me herself that they’re going to execute the Muggleborns and force purebloods into Death Eater families.”

Davies finally chimes in, siding with caution. “I agree with Keeps. They’ll slaughter us all.”

“Not if I kill him first,” says McLaggen, straightening up but his change in demeanour makes your blood run cold.

“Kill who?” asks Cho. “You’re not talking about killing You-Know-Who, are you?”

McLaggen pauses, his gaze fixed on the distant double doors. When he speaks, his voice is clear, and full of resolve. “Not You-Know-Who. Voldemort.”

The use of the taboo name is heavy in the air for a split second as a silent shock ripples through the group. McLaggen begins to march forward, his steps deliberate, pulling the rest of you from your stupor as you scramble to keep pace, murmurs of disbelief echoing behind him.

Wait - what?

He follows the direction of the crowd leaving the Great Hall.

“Cormac - wait - no,” you panic, pulling on his arm but he keeps walking as you practically jog to keep up with his long strides. “Cormac?”

“McLaggen, what are you playing at, mate?” Davies too tries to get Cormac’s attention while you march.

McLaggen’s eyes darken, a flash of the recent pain “No, we end this. I kill Voldemort. If I finish him off, Marietta and Eddie won’t have died for nothing…”

“No, Cormac -”

“I think ve need a plan,” Krum says looking slightly wary.

“There’s no time for a plan. All I need is one shot. One clear shot,” he says, staring ahead defiantly as you join the back of the moving crowd.

“Cormac McLaggen, will you listen to me?!” Your voice is unusually shrill, half-choked with fear and desperation, as you plant yourself firmly in his path, forcing him to confront you. “You can’t just ‘take a shot’ at him. There’ll be protective enchantments. And even if by some miracle you breach those, it’ll be as good as suicide.”

Cormac halts and looks down into your eyes sadly. “You said it yourself - we’re all dead anyway. To them, we’re nothing but a bunch of traitors and Muggleborns.”

“I should be the one to do it, then,” you plead. “You’re from a pureblood family. You might still have a chance.” He shakes his head, dismissing the idea and you flare up. “And why not? I’m just as capable as you.”

“You are capable,” he insists. “But I should be the one to do it.”

“Why?” demands Cho, her voice sharp.

“I’m done for when they find out I killed the Minister for Magic’s daughter.”

“And they’ll let the rest of us walk free?” asks Cho rhetorically. “Umbridge has been looking for us since all this started. If she’s anything to do with the new regime - she’ll make sure that we’re first to go. She’ll probably - she’ll probably frame us for Marietta’s death.” The idea leaves a bitter scowl on her face. Of course, Umbridge would. What a sympathetic story it’d make too. Marietta Edgecombe - Umbridge’s secretary. Kidnapped by the D.A. and killed in battle.

“As much as I don’t like the idea of going out there without a plan, we’re running out of time and there’s nowhere else left to go,” says Davies resignedly as the seven of you look beyond the double doors at the courtyard. “So if any of us get the chance we should take it.”

“Exactly,” says Krum. “Ve train together, ve fight together.”

“I say if anyone gets close enough to You-Know - I mean - Voldemort, we do it. The Killing Curse,” says Katie.

Leanne nods. “I agree.”

You and McLaggen exchange a determined look. One last mission. Together.

“Alright,” McLaggen says, addressing everyone with a confidence reminiscent of the sort you usually have when rousing your Quidditch team. “Alright. Let’s do this. Let’s kill Voldemort.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The remnants of Dumbledore’s Army huddle together in the devastated courtyard.

Harry Potter is dead.

The grim truth of it is laid bare for everyone to see in the slowly lightening darkness that precedes the dawn as you gaze at his body lying limp in Hagrid’s arms as he sobs.

The lump in your throat isn’t so much for Potter as for what he represented, what his death means for you and your friends. Marietta is dead. Carmichael is dead. You and the rest of the D.A. will probably join them soon. If McLaggen isn’t executed he’ll be married off to some other Death Eater. You hold onto McLaggen’s hand tight, barely listening to Voldemort addressing the crowd as you instead silently count each second your hand is in his before you’re inevitably separated.

You watch as Hagrid is instructed to place Potter on the ground at his feet.

Voldemort paces in front of the crowd, his giant snake wrapped around his shoulders as he points to Potter’s dead body. “He was nothing - ever - but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him.”

“He beat you!” yells Ron Wealsey, a few places down to your left. You try to shrink back, away from the attention he’s bringing to your group but McLaggen holds fast - the same look of defiance painted on his face as is on Weasley’s.

To your horror, McLaggen shouts, “Your Death Eaters were losing!” Members of the D.A. and several others in the crowd cry out in dissent too.

“Cormac,” you plead. The idea of any of you breaking through the void between the survivors and Death Eaters to aim a Killing Curse at Voldemort seems like a childish fantasy now that you’re out here, facing him. You just want to slip away. The last thing you want is for any of the D.A. to be made a humiliating example of. You look at the army facing you. They outnumber you by at least five to one. You’re starting to realise that the best you can hope for is a quick death. “Please don’t draw attention to yourself.”

There’s a bang and a flash of light and you flinch when Voldemort silences the crowd.

“He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds. Killed while trying to save himself -”

But Voldemort’s voice breaks off when you’re jostled to the side as Neville Longbottom breaks through the clutch of D.A. members and charges at him. Clearly, your group weren’t the only ones who planned to take a shot at Voldemort to end this once and for all. There are more bangs and flashes when Neville is disarmed and knocked to the ground and another silencing charm is cast over the crowd.

“And who is this? Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?”

Just as you were afraid of. The first dissenter to be made an example of. You clutch onto McLaggen as Bellatrix Lestrange catches Neville’s wand and taunts him. Neville eventually gets to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the no-man's-land between the Hogwarts survivors and the Death Eaters.

“Neville Longbottom… But you are a pureblood aren’t you, my brave boy?”

“So what if I am?” he spits back.

“You show spirit and bravery. And you come of noble stock. You will make a valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom.”

“I’ll join you when hell freezes over!” shouts Neville before turning and raising his fist in the direction of the survivors. “Dumbledore’s Army!”

The silencing charm breaks and your friends jeer at Voldemort in response.

Your own voice is lost in your throat.

“Very well. Are there any more purebloods who, like Neville, will refuse to join my Death Eaters?”

“You’re damn right!” calls McLaggen. “Like hell, we’ll join you!”

You want to clap your hand over his big fat mouth but before you can other survivors join in the yelling.

“Yeah!” echoes Ron Weasley. “We’d rather die!”

“Ah, but you misunderstand me,” replies You-Know-Who in his snakelike whisper. “Too much magical blood has been spilt already and you are valuable. Pureblood families are dying out. Extinguished by those who choose to mate with Mudbloods and muggles.”

McLaggen lets go of your hand and slips his hand into his pocket, finding his wand.

“Don’t!” You hiss through your teeth, pulling at his arm.

McLaggen ignores you and stares straight ahead, looking at Voldemort defiantly. “And so what if we are? Being pureblooded doesn’t mean anything!”

“Another like Neville Longbottom who refuses to join my Death Eaters?” asks Voldemort, looking directly at McLaggen amongst the collection of D.A. members and the remaining Gryffindor students. “Come forward, unless you are afraid that your Mudblood sympathies have made you weak.”

McLaggen moves his arm so that his wand is hidden behind his back and takes a step forward.

“No! No, stop! Cormac!” You don’t bother hushing your voice this time as you realise he’s actually about to stand beside Neville. You cling onto him frantically with all your might, begging him not to step forward. But you’re not the only one shrieking.

“Ron!” You look over to see Granger, attempting to pull Ron Weasley back too.

“Come now! Come!” laughs Voldemort. “Don’t be shy. Come forward and I’ll show you just how useful those from noble bloodlines will be in the new world.”

“Cormac!” you sob, pulling his arm so tightly that you think you might rip his arm from his socket. He takes another two steps and your feet slide on the uneven rubble underfoot. With a solemn look, he places his hand over yours and eases them off his arm. You look desperately over at Granger and she too has had her grip wrenched free from Weasley. For just a second, the two of you lock eyes in helpless, shared understanding.

You let go of Cormac and almost fall to your knees when he and Weasley join Longbottom but before you collapse, Cho and Krum catch under your arms, stopping you from crumbling as you try to remember how to breathe again.

Voldemort's voice cuts through the tense air. "Those of you who stand before me refuse to acknowledge the way things are now," he declares, his gaze sweeping over the brave three standing in defiance. “You may not become Death Eaters… but your children will.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd, a mix of fear and outrage simmering among the gathered survivors. Voldemort turns to face his supporters. “Now, where is the Minister for Magic? Thicknesse?” Pius Thicknesse steps forward, his long, dark hair danker than you remember it from when you first met him last summer. "Have your daughter bring forth the girls," he commands, his voice echoing ominously across the courtyard. "Let these ancient and noble pureblood families be joined as one."

Thicknesse’s bloodshot eyes dart around edgily. “My Lord - I - I cannot find her.”

“You won’t,” says McLaggen and you exhale a weak groan. The last shred of hope you had that McLaggen might make it through this act of defiance disapparates in an instant. “She’s dead. I made sure of it.”

Thicknesse, fueled by a mix of grief and rage, attempts to barrel through Voldemort’s supporters, his eyes set on McLaggen with a vengeance. But before Thicknesse can reach him, Voldemort, with a flick of his wand, halts Thicknesse's charge.

Voldemort's gaze lands on McLaggen, his curiosity piqued. "And who is this?" he inquires, his voice cold yet amused, as he looks from the distraught Thicknesse to the defiant McLaggen.

"That's the boy she wanted. The one she - my Cerys - asked to be promised to, my lord," Thicknesse says, raising a quivering finger at McLaggen.

Voldemort laughs. A high-pitched, chilling laugh. "I can see why - he's a handsome one," he remarks as he steps towards McLaggen who remains steadfast. Unflinching. "No matter," Voldemort continues, turning away from McLaggen and dismissing the matter with a wave of his hand as if Cerys’s death were nothing more than a trivial inconvenience. "There are plenty of suitable matches from other families willing to produce heirs -"

"I'll kill the next one too,” says McLaggen and Neville and Weasley look at him in agreement. “We all will. If you force any of us into pure-blood marriages against our will, we'll make sure that the bloodlines end with us."

Voldemort pauses and turns around slowly as if hardly daring to believe that McLaggen has spoken out so openly. “Too much magical blood has been wasted already tonight... although perhaps I can make an exception," he muses, his gaze still fixed on McLaggen. "Your bloodline, at least, will end with you."

"And so will yours," says McLaggen. And even though you can’t see his face, you can tell he’s wearing that confident, intense look that so often precedes him doing the impossible.

And just for a second, you think it’s happening. Against the odds, McLaggen, who has saved your skin countless times now, is about to save everyone for good. McLaggen. The Keeper. About to make the save that defines the wizarding world as you know it.

But before McLaggen can even extend his wand, Voldemort, with a flicker of dark amusement in his eyes, utters, "Avada Kedavra!"

McLaggen’s body falls to the ground, lifeless, just as quickly and easily as the falling Quidditch stands on the pitch.

Your stomach lurches. You open your mouth not sure whether you’re about to scream or vomit. The sound that escapes your lips is torn from the depths of your soul, as you witness the love of your life crumple in a heap on the rubble.

Your heart shatters beyond repair.

Each cracked piece is a kiss, a memory, a dream for your future, now lost forever.

“No!” come the shocked cries of Katie and Leanne.

“Cormac…” sobs Cho, still holding you up, though her tight grip falters in shock.

“I’ll kill him myself,” says Krum, letting you go and attempting to push past to get to Voldemort.

But it’s Neville who is closest. The jinx holding him breaks and he charges forward unarmed and wandless toward Voldemort who reacts quicker once more and halts him with a body-bind curse.

As one, the Death Eaters raise their wands, holding the fighters of Hogwarts at bay.

“Gryffindor arrogance!” screams Voldemort. “But no more.” Voldemort points his wand to the sky and everyone except you looks up. Your eyes are still fixed on McLaggen’s body on the stone floor as Voldemort’s snake slithers between McLaggen and Potter menacingly. “There will be no more sorting at Hogwarts school. There will be no more houses. The emblem, shield and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won’t they, Neville Longbottom?”

McLaggen is only metres away but your heart thuds in your chest watching the snake slither along the courtyard. Feeling faint again, you remember how you huddled around the kitchen table in the lighthouse listening to reports on Potterwatch about how the snake carries out Voldemort’s bidding. The rumours that Voldemort feeds people he’s killed to the snake.

The thought is so horrifying, so all-consuming, that you barely notice Voldemort catching the Sorting Hat from mid-air and forcing it onto Neville’s head.

It’s only when Neville’s scream splits the dawn that you look up and watch in horror as Neville rooted in place, writhes on the spot wearing the burning hat on his head.

And then, so many things happen simultaneously that you feel your head spinning.

There’s uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounds like hundreds of people swarm over the out-of-sight walls, yelling at the top of their lungs as they charge towards the courtyard. Residents of Hogsmeade. Parents of students. Joining the fray.

Then come hooves and the twangs of bows. And arrows suddenly land amongst the Death Eaters on Voldemort’s side who break rank and scramble, shouting in surprise as the centaurs continue to attack.

Cormac McLaggen’s death has given everyone a second wind. The fact that it’s what he’d have wanted is of no comfort to you.

In one swift, fluid motion Neville breaks free of the body-bind curse upon him, the hat falls off of him and he draws from its depths something long and silver with a glittering rubied hand. The slash of the silver blade is silent amongst the pandemonium of the crowd and stampeding centaurs yet it draws every eye, including your own.

With a single stroke, Neville slices off the head of the great snake’s head which spins high into the air. And Voldemort’s mouth is open in a scream of fury that nobody can hear. The snake’s body thuds to the ground.

You panic, as fighting resumes and people run in all directions. You can’t let them trample McLaggen’s. Or Potter’s if you can help it.

“Harry? Where’s Harry?!” bellows Hagrid, above the almighty chaotic racket.

A jet of light whizzes over your heads and you duck. You keep low as you sprint over to McLaggen’s body, determined to move his body away from the fighting.

McLaggen lies alone. Potter is gone.

You panic some more. This time panicking that Potter’s body has been taken by the Death Eaters to be paraded like some kind of trophy. You won’t let that happen to McLaggen.

You scramble over to him and hook your arms under his, pulling his dead weight towards a corner of the courtyard. Even though a wand is in your pocket, you don’t even think about pulling it out and joining the fight. You don’t even think about casting a shied charm. All you think about is getting McLaggen’s body out of the way.

But you needn’t worry. Perhaps everyone is too busy fighting to pay attention to the girl with the burned clothes and the tear-streaked face heaving a corpse into a corner. From your peripheral senses, you can tell even as you drag him away, that the fighting in the courtyard is thinning out as the fighters run into the caste.

Your resolve hardens. You’ll rejoin them soon, now Cormac’s body is shielded behind what’s left of this wall. You just need a second.

A second to say goodbye.

You collapse in a pile beside him in the empty courtyard and press the heels of your palms into your eyes, stemming the tears. You can’t bring yourself to look at his face, knowing that the green eyes under his closed lids will never see yours again.

“What a stupid plan,” you choke, wondering aloud as you wipe your eyes. “Thinking we could take on Voldemort. And then you actually tried it…”

You try to steady your breathing, feeling your hot breath stick to your grimy palms as you cover your face. The humidity of your own air makes your stomach twist. It brings back memories of laughing under the duvet cover in Seafarer’s Beacon, face to face with McLaggen, intensely close as your eyes roamed over that trademark arrogant smirk on his face,

“You bloody arrogant git,” you sniff, the words a mix of endearment and despair, a tribute to the man who dared to challenge the darkness with his unyielding self-assurance.

Then, the faintest movement - a murmur so soft it might be mistaken for the wind.

“I’m dead and you’re still calling me a git?”

Your eyes snap open, heart caught between hope and disbelief. The world tilts, reality warping at the edges as you stare at McLaggen. Solid, unmistakably alive, his presence defies every certainty that death had claimed him. "McLaggen?" Your voice is a tremble, a prayer whispered against the tide of despair that had nearly consumed you.

“So it’s McLaggen again, is it?” he asks blearily, slowly opening his eyes and looking up at you. “I must have done something to annoy you again.”

He’s alive?

Or… maybe you died too? You pinch yourself to see if you can feel pain. Hard.

You can.

You blink dumbfounded at the cautiously expectant look on McLaggen’s face. He can’t be alive. He just can’t be. You’d never be that lucky. Out of instinct, you pinch him too to check if he’s real.

“Ow!” he winces.

He is alive.

You blink in disbelief as the tiniest smirk crosses his face. “I - how?”

“Lucky charm,” says Cormac as with difficulty he brings his hand up to the chest pocket of his t-shirt and tries to extract something.

“What the-” You're breathless, caught in the sway between joy and the lingering shadow of sorrow.

“Just - look.”

Once you’ve helped him take the Polaroid out of his shirt pocket you recognise it immediately. A selfie of you and Cormac in the Quidditch stands at Hogwarts. The one you used to use as a bookmark. A snapshot from what seems like a lifetime ago. Except there’s a burned scar on it now. Right through the middle.

“I think that this -" he touches the photo in your hand, "- took the brunt of the Killing Curse. And somehow, it spared me.”

“Cormac,” you say gently, given that he’s just woken up after being an inch away from death. “That’s not how the Killing Curse works. You can’t be saved by - by love.”

But even as you say the word love, something prickles on the back of your neck. And to give him credit, he has a point.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” asks McLaggen. His stern look, so assuringly familiar, grounds you, reminding you of the countless times his stubbornness had been a beacon in darker days.

“Maybe it was the picture,” you concede softly, brushing his curly hair, feeling something warm and wet. Blood. “Your head is bleeding -”

Yells of shock and cheers erupt from the Great Hall, interrupting your reasoning.

“Harry?”

“He’s alive!”

The mix of distant exclamations makes you both freeze.

“It sounds like Potter wasn’t killed by Voldemort’s Killing Curse either…” you say, looking in the direction of the castle doors. When you turn back to face McLaggen he’s frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s fine,” he says, touching the back of his head.

“Cormac, are you annoyed because you’re not the only one who survived the Killing Curse tonight?”

“Let’s go back - the others might need our help,” says McLaggen, ignoring the question. You get to your feet and offer him a hand to get up which he accepts, straining with effort as he does.

“It’s alright if you are,” you offer, helping him onto his feet. "Annoyed, I mean."

“Well, nobody’s going to remember I survived it if Potter is alive too.” McLaggen puts an arm around your shoulder and you brace yourself to support him but he doesn’t need it. He just pulls you close as you walk through the courtyard - if it wasn’t for the devastation it would feel exactly like how the two of you used to walk around Hogwarts. McLaggen with his arm around you, your body slotting into the crux of his arm like you were always meant to be there.

“I don’t want anyone else to try to help,” Harry’s voice rings loudly from the hall as you slowly ascend the castle steps. “It’s got to be like this. It’s got to be me.”

Of course, it’s got to be Potter.

“Cormac, when they write the history books nobody’s gonna remember anything we did. It’s Potter’s story. We’re just the background characters,” you say.

“Well, I can think of a few people who’ll remember,” says McLaggen, nodding to the rest of the D.A. just visible through the doors of the Great Hall as the crowd of onlookers watch Potter and Voldemort circling each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and your friends sit at what used to be the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Neville Longbottom is talking to Michael Corner and Terry Boot while Terry admires the great, ruby-handled sword lying across the middle of the table.

Harry Potter is moving among the groups of survivors, his presence a quiet pillar of strength as he shakes hands and listens to their stories. The hero of the day.

Harry won. You and McLaggen made it back into the Great Hall just to see the final killing blow. You watched Voldemort hit the floor with your own two eyes. And now, you’re at a loose end. Elation feels distant, almost inappropriate, as the absence of Marietta and Eddie haunts the space around you, their unoccupied places at the table a gaping wound. The cost of victory.

“Explain it again,” says McLaggen, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Slower this time.”

“Cormac, keep still,” you chide, wrapping a bandage around his head.

“Harry sacrificed himself which meant he gave everyone in the castle sacrificial protection,” says Cho, with the appropriate air of speaking to someone with a head injury. “So none of the curses that Voldemort or the Death Eaters cast after that stuck properly. Which is why the Killing Curse didn’t kill you.”

“So how come Harry didn’t die?”

Cho pauses and purses her lips. “I don’t actually know.”

“And how do we know it wasn’t my sacrifice that was protecting everyone in the castle?” says McLaggen who then winces as you tie the bandage.

“Because, darling, you didn’t sacrifice yourself. You just tried to attack Voldemort and got knocked out trying,” you say soothingly.

“That makes it sound much less cool than it was,” grumbles McLaggen, half-joking, half-serious. “And I didn’t even get a sword,” he adds, glancing at Terry who is now miming Neville cutting the head off of a snake with the sword of Gryffindor.

A silence falls as you sit down beside McLaggen, resting your head on his shoulder, seeking comfort in the familiar warmth of his presence, your stomach jolts every time you think about Voldemort cutting him down so casually.

“I noticed none of you were at my deathbed when I came round, by the way,” he says, as if he can’t help himself from breaking the silence.

“Ve vere busy covering the two of you with a shield charm,” says Krum. “Then the Death Eaters turned their attention to us and ve had to retreat.”

“It’s a shame Potter didn’t sacrifice himself just a little bit earlier,” you say, sadly, thinking about Marietta and Carmichael.

“You’re always so harsh on him,” says Katie, looking over your shoulder. “Harry’s actually not bad once you get to know him.”

As you turn to respond, Potter approaches the Gryffindor table and greets the D.A. McLaggen stands to meet him.

“Good work out there, Potter,” he says bracingly. “You make putting your life on the line look easy, mate.”

“Er, thanks,” says Potter uncertainly. He looks even more tired than you feel. There are dark circles under his eyes and even though he’s not covered in as much soot, blood and debris as you and McLaggen, he looks pale and drawn. “You too, McLaggen. I saw what you did. It was really decent of you, standing up for Muggleborns like that when you could have kept quiet.”

“Well,” says McLaggen casually, taking your hand and bringing you to your feet. “There was a lot at stake.” You slip your arm around his waist and give him a little squeeze.

“And you - you were the one causing the Ministry so much grief back in October, right? You broke the Muggleborns out of Azkaban?”

You nod and gesture to the area of the table where Cho, Krum, Katie, Leanne, Davies, Wood, Angelina and Alicia are all engrossed in conversation. “We all did. Everyone who was half-decent on a broom.” You pull a tight-lipped smile thinking about what Katie said about you being harsh on Potter. “Except you, of course. Could have used your skills if you weren’t the Ministry’s most wanted.”

Potter smiles weakly. “Thanks, I appreciate that coming from you… Captain.”

McLaggen brings you tighter into a one-armed hug around your shoulders as Potter walks away.

“Do you think he called me ‘Captain’ because he can’t remember my name?” you ask as you both watch Potter continuing the rounds..

“Oh, one hundred per cent,” says McLaggen.

“Unbelievable. I’ve only played Quidditch against him every single year since he started school.”

“Maybe you need a better name.”

“Oh, really?” You roll your eyes and turn to face him, waiting for the punchline. “Go on, then. You got a nickname for me or something?”

McLaggen smirks and his self-satisfied smile meets his green eyes. “I meant a new surname.”

Oh.

“McLaggen, I -“

“You might have to start calling me Cormac all the time now, though. It’s gonna get pretty confusing otherwise.”

You take a deep breath and McLaggen falters slightly when you reach up and hold the sides of his face with both hands. His prickly stubble tickles your palms.

“McLaggen, I really think we need to find Madam Pomfrey.”

“What?”

“Have you or have you not sustained a head injury?”

McLaggen looks at you intently, his green eyes focusing on yours. “I’m serious.”

“I am too,” you say. “You sure you haven’t been confunded again?”

“I’m pretty confident that’s not the case,” he says.

“Ask me again once you’ve had your head checked out,” you murmur before pressing your lips against his. Even under the smoke and sweat, you can still smell the heady amber and jasmine scent of him that so reminds you of your first Potions lesson together.

“Alright, I will,” says Cormac McLaggen when you eventually break apart. “If it’d make you happy.”

Like moonstone being dropped into a cauldron, the idea of it - the sheer hope - glints and sparkles amidst the worst sorrow you've ever experienced.

"It would," you say.

It would make you deliriously happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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