#Slytherin skittles smut

[jaylienpotter]

Rosekiller smut, requested by @star4daisy

TW: explicit sex, risky sex, blood, knife play, kink, dom sub, choking, dangerous behaviour, toxic relationship, dubious consent, mentions of necrophilia

2k words

Mental

"Hey."

"Oh hi. I thought you went to Hogsmead." Evan had stayed behind, not in the mood to be social.

"I was going to but eh. Dora is going with Lovegood, Cas is with Mckinnon and Reg wants to drink tea." Barty rolled his eyes, not a fan of the calm and quiet. He'd much rather a firewhiskey. "Besides, I don't have the patience to see him staring at Potter."

"Jealous?"

"Nah. I got a great boyfriend. And..." He got close to Rosier, holding his tie. "He's hot as fuck." Ev knew his boyfriend still had some feelings for their best friend.

"Is he?" Barty pulled the green and silver tie, slightly choking the other boy while pulling him for a kiss. They both smirked during the make out, fighting for dominance. At one point it became less kissing and more so sucking and biting, pushing each other against walls, clothes flying around.

"You're mine." Evan would make sure Barty remembered that. Possessive? Yes. But that's just how they were. Toxic. And they wouldn't have it any other way.

Barty squat down and grabbed the other boy by the legs, throwing him over his shoulder and then again on the bed, kneeling on top of his legs to trap him. For some extra dramatic effect, he took the pocket knife he had at all times (don't ask) and pressed it against the Slytherin's throat.

"I win." Ev bit his lip shamelessly, glancing at the blade touching his skin, his pupils dilating. A dark eyebrow raised and the knife was dragged down, the blade always in contact with skin, sending shivers. The heavy breaths turned into a moan when the metal touched a specific spot on his left rib.

Barty pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, wondering. His mischievous stare went from green eyes to a ribcage, where he made pressure, leaving a small cut.

"Mh- fuck!" It hurt. But pain wasn't the reason behind the grip on the bedsheets.

"Kinky bastard."

"Shut the fuck up." Blade back where it was at the beginning. "Careful with the neck!"

"I'm offended, Rosier! As if I didn't know where to cut and not to cut if I want to kill someone."

"That's hot."

"Yeah? Y'know what else is? The dirty sounds that you made just now." After whispering in his ear, Crouch bit it and sat, doing another cut without warning.

"F-fuck!" It was deeper. Not only did Barty press a little harder, Evan arched his back, digging the knife even further.

"Aww, you're bleeding." There was absolutely no remourse or guilt, the tone purely sarcastic. He cleaned the blood with his fingers, pressing the wound a little. His boyfriend's squirms got him hard, repeating the movement.

"Mmh... Barty-" Two bloody fingers were licked and sucked clean. It was wrong of Barty to do it. And wrong of Evan to like it. But fuck it. The blood was licked directly on the cut, unheavenly sounds dancing around them.

"You always did like my tongue."

"Shut the fuck up and keep fucking going."

"Bossy." One cut on his abdomen. Two. Three. The fourth on his inner thigh, his dick peeking out of the boxers. "Someone wants to get out."

"Don't you dare touch my dick with that thing. That goes past all levels of kink."

"Relax. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course not." The one on top wasn't even offended, simply shrugged.

"Fair. Don't worry, I like your cock too much to damage it."

"Good because if you do, I'm cutting off yours."

"Feisty." While kissing, Crouch started cutting the sub's boxers from the inside, the tip of the knife digging into his skin sometimes. When both sides were cut, the underwear fell out, revealing red, bruised thighs and a throbbing cock, already leaking pre-cum. "Aww, such a pathetic little whore."

That was it. The switch in the blonde's brain. Strength wasn't on his side, he was hurting from all the wounds, several of them slightly bleeding. No, he had to go for the surprise effect.

"How about you talk less and kiss more?" It did the work. Barty started a trail of kisses from his inner thigh (where he bit), to his cock, to around his upper half, licking the red liquid as if it was juice. He could be a vampire and Ev wouldn't be surprised. If anything, it made things hotter. When their lips finally met, Rosier turned them around, blade fallen from the strong grip.

"You little fucker." The gleam in those beetle eyes showed amusement. He would seem angry to everyone else, but not to his boyfriend. Those eyes also carried madness but that aspect was clear as glass. "Good job, I can't move. Someone's learning."

"From the best." Their kiss was intense, mostly tongue and bites, the taste of their salivas mixed with the iron from Rosier's blood. "Can I mark you?"

"Mark me?" Intrigued, suspicious. As he should be. "Mark me how, exactly?" The knife was held by a different hand, less harshly, more delicate, equally as deadly.

"With this."

"You want to carve into my skin?"

"Mhm. I want to write something." This was the part where people would fight for freedom, scream, or plead. Of course Crouch did none of those.

"You're mental."

"I'm mental about you."

"Alright. Do it." Green eyes turned dark, not many people got to see this side of him. If you did, you were probably dead afterwards. Evan hadn't finished the first cut before Barty started laughing. Laughing!

"What the fuck are you laughing about?? The fuck Barty?!"

"It tickles!"

"It tickles?! It tickles?! Bloody psychopath, you are. Fucking laughing, I swear to Merlin..."

"You're saying that as if it was a surprise. Come on, babe. I tried to poison my father. Twice. I carry a knife with me. I've done so much shit and only now you realise I'm out of my bloody mind?"

"Shut up. You somehow always surprise me. Now hold still while I write!" He tried, he did. But he couldn't hold in the giggles from the pain and the feeling of blood dripping down his waist or inner thigh. "Stop moving, for fuck's sake! It's cutting deeper than its supposed to because you won't stay fucking still!"

"What's taking you so long anyways? The fuck are you writing?"

"I'd be faster if you stopped being a lunatic!" He took matters to his own hands (quite literally) and choked his boyfriend, hoping he couldn't laugh without breathing. It worked, to some extent. Barty still moved and it was harder to write with one hand. "Done! Bloody hell." After a cough, Crouch slightly lifted his body to see what his boyfriend did.

"Did you fucking carve 'EVAN' on my crotch??" The blonde licked the bloody knife, his boyfriend licking his lips, momentarily forgetting his question.

"Yes. So when you or your dick think of someone else, you'll have this little reminder of who you belong to."

"You're so fucking possessive." He wasn't mad. If anything, he thought it was hot. Ev getting so worked up because of Barty's ex crush on Regulus, the darkness that possessed his eyes when no one else was around, the grip he had on his lover. If Rosier fell, you bet he'd drag him along. And Barty would let him.

"I'm just claiming what's mine."

"And I'm the psychopath?!"

"We're both mental, love. But I hide it better." Hot whispers sent shivers to the boy below, the tattooed neck was invaded with tongue, lips and teeth, used as a canvas to leave dark spots on.

"We got a problem. How are we going to have sex? That shit tickled at first but now it's burning, I don't fancy bumping it against you fast and hard, you know?"

"I'll fuck you, obviously."

"Can't bend my legs, tosser."

"You're fucking thick. Get up." Once on their feet, Evan pushed the other against the wall, grinding from behind. "I can fuck you standing up..."

"What're you waiting for then?"

"You're not stretched enough." Neither of them had monstrous dicks but it was still difficult to penetrate dry.

"Use a spell or spit then!"

"Bossy." He extended his hand in front of his boyfriend's face, who got the message and filled it with saliva. Ev stroked his cock to make it slimy and used the remains of the wet substance to prep the hole he was about to destroy. Two fingers in, curling and scissoring impatiently.

"Mmh- go in, I can take it." Lean fingers were replaced with a shiny cock, struggling to slide in. Both boys adjusted their positions and soon enough, Evan's whole length was buried inside Barty. He didn't wait for a sign, beginning fast harsh thrusts with no warning. "F-fuck!"

"You're mine, Crouch. Got it? Mine. If I catch you with someone else, I'm killing them and then you. And I'll fuck your body afterwards." The boyfriend laughed again, it was annoying yet hot. As if he wasn't taking Rosier's words seriously. But they both knew damn well of what each other were able to do.

"Yes, my rose. Don't worry, your dick is my favourite."

"Is my dick all you care about?"

"Of course." He didn't need to see Barty's face. He knew he was smirking. He wouldn't be after his cock got grabbed, the grip too tight.

"You sure?" The one in front of him groaned and panted, reacting just the way he wanted.

"Your- lips are quite good too."

"If you're going to act like a whore, I'm gonna fucking use you like one." He grabbed a fistful of dark hair, yanking it back. His other hand still around a thick cock. He drilled himself inside the slut's ass, the intensity higher than usual. He moved his hands to choke him and press on the 'EVAN' wound.

"SHIT! Fuck!" The gasps and silent moans brought Ev to his limit, filling up his boyfriend. "Hey! Don't you fucking dare to stop! I haven't finished!"

"Too bad. You don't deserve it." Crouch leaned back, trying to go after the dick pulling out.

"You're fucking selfish! I like all of you, is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Yes. But it's not enough. If you want to cum, earn it." A dark eyebrow raised in response to the smirk.

"If you're expecting me to beg, it's not gonna happen." Rosier wasn't going to back down, stubborn motherfucker. His boyfriend was one too, though. Plus stronger. He pulled blonde hairs and pushed down, pressing on one of the cuts to double the boy down.

"Ah! Fucker!" Having got what he wanted, Ev on his knees, Crouch forced his mouth open with his thumb and slid his cock inside.

"Bite and I'll cut your throat, got it?!" Green eyes looked up at him, showing defeat. He fucked that smart mouth deep and ruthlessly, making a mess out of his drooling boyfriend. Not even giving him a chance to breathe until he came undone. "Swallow." Rosier pulled away and opened his mouth, showing his clean tongue. Tongue he then used to lick along the bloody cuts he inflicted. "I still can't believe you fucking carved your name onto my skin. You're bloody mental." Getting up, brushing their lips together, Evan whispered in a hushed voice, just before pulling Barty in for a deep kiss.

"Right back at you."

[star4daisy]

rosekiller one-shot

tw: implied nsfw

It’s a sudden shift in the air, not any less dangerous, but much more sensuous, anticipation filling his entire body when Barty realised he might get more than he bargained for when he started this. A fight and a hot fuck behind a seedy bar? Count him the fuck in. It sounded like his idea of paradise.

Barty's smile is all teeth. “Will you let me go if I suck your dick?”

The man looks him up and down again in genuine interest as if he’s considering it and then he’s using his other hand to pat his index finger against Barty’s bottom lip. His fingertips are dirty with Barty’s blood from when he punched him, for some reason this makes him even harder, his mouth opening immediately and his moan being swallowed by the two fingers that are shoved in his mouth.

Barty works his tongue slowly, giving him a show, merely a tease of what he could have if he gave in. The man’s eyes fill with something akin to danger, a cruel smile curling in his pretty mouth.

“If you can make me come in three minutes,” he says dismissively as he takes his fingers off like he couldn’t care any less, but Barty can see how much he wants him in his eyes and can feel it against his front just as hard as the knife biting on his throat.

from: free

[remuslupinlovebot]

marauders era p links (18+)

all links lead to p0rn !! watch at your own risk and do not watch in public

part 2 out now!

REGULUS BLACK

regulus fingering you in his dorm

regulus bouncing you on his cock

JAMES POTTER

riding james when he visits you for summer break

james celebrating a quidditch win

james absolutely devouring you as if you were his last meal on earth (this is the hottest video)

james teasing you while you’re wearing his hoodie

james stuffing you full and showing how much you mean to him

james eating his pretty girl out

SIRIUS BLACK

sirius making his girl feel good

showing sirius what a good girl you are

69’ing with sirius

sirius using his long fingers to make you cum

morning fucks with sirius

sirius fucking you at your house

REMUS LUPIN

remus fucking your face

remus fucking you in the bathroom before a full moon

riding professor lupin

getting extra credit with professor lupin

BARTY CROUCH JR

bouncing on bartys cock

barty fucking the LIFE out of you

MARLENE MCKINNON

marlene riding the life out of you

marlene making you look in the mirror as she destroys you

marlene fingering you till you’re shaking

making a sex tape with marlene

marlene eating you out

making out with marlene

LILY EVANS

fucking lily with a d!ldo

intimate but intense foreplay with lily

fucking lily in the common room

sucking mommy’s tits like a good girl

roommate lily helping you out

car sex with lily

thanking lily for date night by eating her out

lily sitting on your face <3

using mommy’s tits to cum

MARY MACDONALD

mary bringing you to heaven with her fingers

mary sending you a video while you’re on a work trip

home alone with mary

fucking mary after coming home to her all dolled up

making mary cum

eating mary out by the pool

DORCAS MEADOWES

eating dorcas out till she’s whimpering

(doesn’t really look like dorcas but it’s hot so whatever) devouring dorcas on the kitchen counter

giving dorcas special treatment after a night out

dorcas riding you

RANDOM

marlene eating lily out to give her a break from studying

pansy parkinson riding the genuine life out of you

pandora, dorcas and barty having fun when the dorms are empty

foreplay with lily and nb partner (not RLLY p0rṉ)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF ANY DON’T WORK!!

find part 2: here

[juleswritesstuff]

Am I the only one who thinks most of the Marauders and the Slytherin Skittles would have the biggest praise kink in history ?

warnings: smut

James would have one because of his constant need to be perfect, to be what he thinks the others need him to be: the perfect son, the perfect friend, the perfect student. But he always has doubts ‘am I enough ?’, ‘am I doing enough ?', ‘will they like me ? ’, ‘what if they don’t ? what if they hate me ?’ He needs to be reassured that he is. He is enough, he is more than enough. 

I feel like it would be more prominent while he is intimate with you. He is mostly afraid of not living up to the expectation he thinks you have of him. So you make sure he knows that he makes you literally touch the sky.

‘That was the best match i’ve ever watched ! Merlin, you were brilliant on that broom James’ after Gryffindor wins the last match of the year.

‘What do you mean ‘stupid’ ? They’re your glasses baby, they help you see. And you look really hot wearing them in my opinion’ after he overhears someone talking about another person and saying they look stupid with that specific pair of glasses.

‘Like that, baby. You’re doing so good’ while he is covering your neck with kisses and gentle bites.

‘Yes, yes, fuck, right there Jamie’ after a particularly deep and strong thrust leaves you breathless.

‘You look so good between my legs, love’ while he is eating you out messily and hungrily and so, so perfectly.

‘No one feels as good as you. No one could ever make me feel the way you do, James’ while he is still inside of you, catching his breath and looking at you with devotion.

‘Are you sure it was ok ?’

‘James, it was more than ok. My legs are shaking baby, that's a sign that it was pretty damn amazing’

‘Are you serious ?’

‘Apart from the very lame joke I am sure you’re thinking about, yes, I am. Actually, why don’t I show you how serious I really am ?’

‘What do you mean, baby?’

‘I mean that you’re gonna fuck me again and i’ll show you how much I always crave your lips, then a third time and i’ll make sure the entire castle hears how you can make me cry with just your tongue, then a fourth because that perfect dick of yours needs to be fucking worshipped, and, finally, a fifth to show you that you fuck me so good that not a single coherent thought processes in my head when you're taking me apart on your cock, Jamie’ 

Remus would have one because he has hated himself his whole life. He feels like a monster, like he doesn’t deserve all the love he is surrounded by, like all the good things people say about him are just lies. And he knows the truth, he knows he is nothing but an horrid creature and that he doesn’t deserve to be loved. Except that it isn’t the truth, and you tell him everyday.

With him I feel like it would be more out of the bedroom, and outside of sex, but not exclusively.

‘You’re really good at that spell Remus, mind showing me how it’s done ?’ after he gets a rather difficult charm right at the first try.

‘You look very hot today, Rem. Well, you look hot everyday actually’ which makes him blush from head to toes.

‘You’re the best, you know ? You really are’ after he explains a difficult concept that nobody else got, but him.

‘Holy hell, right there Remus. You feel way too good’ while he eases in and out of you with a steady rhythm, knocking the air out of your lungs.

‘You take such good care of me’ while he is going down on you, slowly, sensually and with a glint of hunger in his eyes, knowing exactly what to do to make you fall apart.

‘I love you, you know that right ?’

‘Yes, darling. You tell me everyday’ 

‘Well, that’s not enough. From now on, I'll tell you twice a day’

‘But why ?’

‘Because it’s true' and then you give him the sweetest kiss.

Sirius would have one because he has been told his whole life that he wasn’t enough. That he needed to be better, to do better, to be a better heir for the Noble House of Black, to be a better son, to be a better brother. He was told that he was worthless, that his parents had no use in having a son like him. He was a disappointment, a shame to the family. For them he didn’t exist anymore.

But for you he was the most perfect person to ever walk on earth. Your brightest star.

He would love it both inside and outside the bedroom. I feel like he would also ask you to tell him something that makes him feel good, especially when he is having a bad day. He has no problem being praised in public, but he becomes especially vulnerable when you’re intimate because he can finally let go.

‘Tell me what did I do to have the best boyfriend ever ?’ After he brings you flowers one day because he told you they reminded them of you.

‘It’s ok Sirius, you’ll get it eventually. You’re one of the best students, you just need a bit more time which is totally fine’ after the tenth time he tries to get one of the most difficult spells right, only for it to go wrong.

‘You’re worth it Sirius. You’re worth every single good thing that happens to you, never doubt that’ after he breaks down reading one of his mothers older letters, full of foul words directed at him.

‘You’re such a good boy, aren’t you ?’ after he listens to you so well, kissing every inch of your body.

‘Fuck, you should see yourself baby. You look so good, so perfect for me’ while you’re on his lap, riding him slowly to savor that sultry fucked out expression on his face that makes you go feral.

‘You’re so sweet, Sirius, do you know that ? So fucking sweet’ after you bob your head on his length, swirling your tongue around his head to suck gently as his taste coats your mouth.

‘Was I good ?’

‘You’re always good, Sirius. More than’

‘Are you sure ?’

‘Do you want me to describe in detail how good you are at splitting me open in every position known to man ? Because I can do that if you want. Might take three whole days though, a week if you want me to talk about that sinful tongue of yours, too’

‘I think we have enough time’ and then you both start laughing.

Regulus would have one because he’s been second his whole life. Second for his brother, second for his parents before Sirius left , sometimes he feels second even for his friends. He thinks no one cares deeply about him, he’s just there as a rebound. He’s never been anyone’s first choice, and he thinks he never will be.

You make sure he knows that not only he would be your first choice in every lifetime, but that he would also be the only choice for you, no one else would or could ever compare. He is the center of your universe after all.

I feel like he would blush like crazy and pretend he is annoyed by your words when you’re in public and you praise him even for the simplest thing, but his eyes would also warm up a little, just for a second, before going back to his blank and rather stoic expression. He would be a mess in the bedroom though, when he can finally let go and he allows himself to feel good about the sweet words that leave your lips.

‘You have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen’ after he catches you staring at him for a moment too long.

‘Your poems are literally art, Regulus. I can’t believe you can write like this, you know this is pure talent, right ?’ after he shows you his poems for the first time and you nearly cry because more than half of them are dedicated to you.

‘You were so good up there, Reggie. And the way you caught the Snitch ? Fucking incredible. You are incredible’ after Slytherin wins one of the biggest matches of the season thanks to Regulus catching the Snitch one minute from the end.

‘You feel so good, love. Stretching me out so well’ after his cock slides inside of you perfectly, filling you up so nicely.

‘Eyes on me, Regulus. They’re so gorgeous, I want them focused me while I make you cum, ok ? Be good and keep them open’ as you stroke his length up and down, feeling the velvety soft skin on your palm as you give his head a gentle suck, tasting him on your tongue.

‘You’re so pretty when you’re all fucked out, Reggie. You feel so good taking me like this’ while you’re riding him and he looks at you with hazy eyes, lust and pure bliss fogging his brain’

‘I’m yours Regulus. I’m undoubtedly, irrevocably and utterly yours’

‘Promise me’

‘I promise, I’m not going anywhere. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me forever, actually’

‘Mmh, it’s gonna be hard, but I’ll survive I guess’ while you’re still joined, one body and one soul as you kiss him slowly and sweetly, his tone sarcastic but betrayed by the smile that's progressively growing on his lips.

Barty would have one because his father never gave him his attention. He was never enough for him, never a good son, never a good student, never good. He was constantly ignored, and the few times his father acknowledged him was to tell him that he was a lost cause, a disgrace, a shame. He was just a stupid boy, too reckless, too careless, too unhinged, too much, and, at the same time, never enough. But it wasn’t like that. He was a bit impulsive, and sometimes he went a little bonkers, but he was a good person, and there were people who cared about him and his well being. You always made sure he knew that. He was your priority.

I have a feeling that he would be completely unashamed of being praised in public exactly like he is praised in the bedroom. Probably not in front of the whole school, but he wouldn't really care if people eavesdropped, his crooked grin widening when he notices their horrified faces. It is  their fault, they could mind their own damn business.

‘Yes, Barty, you’ve been a good boy’ after he asks you if he has been good after getting an O in Potions.

‘Baby, we’re in public, I can’t just scream about how good you fuck me. There are people eating, for Merlin’s sake’ after he sees a guy talking to you before sitting at the table in the Great Hall. He asks you if you could tell him that he is the only one who could make you come with just his skilled fingers.

‘Don’t think like that ever again, Barty. You are not a lost cause, you aren't. You deserve good things, you deserve the best things, sweetie. You deserve to be loved, and I do. I love you so much Barty, don’t ever think you are not important to me because you are. You mean the world to me’ after he receives a letter from his father asking how a cretin like him was able to find someone who could love him. If he hadn’t begged you to stop after calming down a little you would’ve been in Azkaban with a murder charge by now.

‘Fuck, I love when you do that. Feels amazing, baby’ after he trails a path of kisses down your chest only to focus on the tender flesh of your nipple as he sucks gently, and grazes it with his teeth, teasing you.

‘Harder, baby. I know you like it like this’ while his thrusts become more erratic, stronger and deeper and you can hardly think.

‘You’re cock is perfect, Barty. Fills my mouth so nicely’ while you’re sucking him off, his tip hits your throat and you swallow as the loudest moan leaves his mouth.

‘I told Mulciber that no one can make you scream as loud as I do’

‘You did what ?! Barty !’

‘What ? Is it not true ?’

‘I- of course it’s true, but why did you have to tell him ?’

‘He was being rather cocky about the fact that he could make you scream like, and I quote ‘a bitch’. Then he started using other very disrespectful words to describe you baby, and at that point I had to punch him right in the face, because no one has to even dare to talk about you like that. He is actually lucky my Sectumsempra is not perfect yet, or he would’ve ended way worse. And then I added that little detail. I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I was furious. Do you want me to obliviate him ? I can do that if you want’

‘It’s fine, he needs some salt rubbed on his wounds’

‘Are you sure ?’

‘Yes, baby. And it’s nothing new, I'm sure the entire dorm hears me when you’re fucking me, I can't help it. Now come on my knight in bloody knuckles, let’s go to Madame Pomfrey to get those bruises checked’ you kiss him lightly before heading to the infirmary.

Thanks for coming to my Ted talk 🤭

And thank you for reading 💖

[ellecdc]

can i formally request something? (i have no idea if you take smut requests so please ignore me if not😭) a barty x reader smut where everyone already thinks they’re together so they’re like 🤔?? maybe they’re onto something

and maybe if they try to tell people (read regulus) they’re just like -_-¿ this is new

and well done on your exams!! i’m sure you aced them

hahaha omg this is so Barty and reader coded fr. thanks for your request (I hope I did it justice)

Barty Crouch Jr x afab fem!reader who have sex for the first sodding time, Evan

CW: smut - like straight up porn people, p in v intercourse, pussy slapping cuz apparently I'm a freak, soft choking, a slap in the face if you squint, 18+

This conversation had been going on for so long that you were truly fighting the urge to throw your head back and let out a guttural scream out of pure frustration.

But Barty never fought his urges.

“For fuck’s sake!” He screeched. “How many sodding times do you need me to say it: we - are - not - to - geth - er!” He shouted at Evan, emphasising each syllable with a stomp of his foot. 

Evan smirked and shared a look with Dorcas before rolling his eyes.

“Sure. And what exactly is this?” He asked, gesturing with his book at your tangled forms.

Okay, so maybe you and Barty were physically affectionate with each other - but that didn’t mean anything.

“What?” Barty asked simply.

“The way you’re sitting, Junior.” Dorcas drawled in a bored tone.

You both looked at each other like you were only just now realising your proximity to each other. 

You were positioned on the cushion of the sofa between Barty’s thighs with his arms wrapped around you and his hands weaselled under your shirt and tucked under your breasts.

What?

It was for warmth; he has terrible circulation, you know.

“We always sit like this.” You replied.

Evan scoffed. “You always sit like you’re one sneeze away from having his dick slip inside of you?”

“Okay, you know what?” Barty said, slipping his hands out from your shirt and patting your thighs to say ‘get up’, and standing up behind you. “I didn’t come here to be spoken to like this, least of all by someone who has his head shoved so far up his arse that he could check for tonsillitis.”

Evan shut his book he’d been pretending to read up until that point causing Barty to screech and shout at you to ‘save yourself’ as the two of you took off in the direction of his dorm room. 

You were laughing and breathless by the time you made it into Barty’s room and he shut the door behind you, casting a locking charm for good measure should Evan come looking for retribution for the slander.

“Honestly, I think they’re just jealous.” You said breathlessly.

Barty nodded as he sucked in a few deep breaths himself. “I mean, it’s kind of sad he’s never had a best friend that he felt so comfortable with, you know?”

“Exactly!” 

“And I don’t know why everyone has to make it so sexual. Do you have great tits? Sure. But that’s not why I put my hands on them!”

“Of course.” You agreed readily. “And I mean, are we two of the hottest people to walk these fucking halls? Of course we are -”

“Absolutely.”

“- but that doesn’t mean we’re shagging!”

“Right!” Barty said with finality as he finally sat down on the chair at his desk. “I don’t know why they have to make everything so weird.”

“Me either.” You groaned as you fell backwards onto Barty’s bed and stared up at the green velvet bed curtains draped over the four poster bed. “They’re probably just jealous.” You repeated. “I mean, we would make a really hot couple; I’d want to be with us too.”

“You know, that’s exactly what I was just thinking.” Barty agreed quickly. “And if we were having sex, they’d bloody know it. It would be hot.”

“Gods, it really would be, wouldn't it?”

“Without a doubt; I’m great in bed, and you’re great at everything.” Barty said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You know what.” You said as you sat up to face Barty. “It would be hot. Great sex comes from trust-”

“Check.”

“- communication,”

“Check.”

“Familiarity,”

“Duh.”

“Confidence.”

“Obviously.”

“We’d be sodding lucky to be shagging each other!” You proclaimed.

“I agree!” He responded. 

You both stared at each other; breathing slightly laboured having gotten yourselves so worked up pleading your cases (to no one, seeing as you were both clearly on the same page).

“Huh.” Barty said finally, giving your body a once over. “You know, maybe it is weird we haven’t fucked before.”

“Yeah.”

Your eyes met his green ones that held an intensity you’d not seen from him before.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna fuck?”

“Yeah.”

And like a flip had been switched, the two of you were launching yourselves at each other. 

No time was spent savouring touches or testing waters. It was all teeth clashing, tongues dancing, heavy breathing, and tearing each other’s clothes off.

It felt somehow both forbidden and oh so right.

You’d truly never thought about Barty like this; you really were just that comfortable with one another.

But as you pulled his shirt over his head and started fussing with his belt, a fire roared to life inside you screaming we should have been doing this the whole bloody time. 

You nearly tripped over the waistband of your trousers as Barty backed the two of you towards his bed where he sat on the edge.

You broke apart for air as he moved his sinful mouth down the expanse of your torso and took to marking up your breasts.

“Salazar they’re even better like this.” He murmured to himself before taking one of your nipples in his mouth whilst he pinched the other.

You ran your finger through his hair, an action you'd done many times before, but never like this.

You pulled at it roughly and brought his lips back to yours as you pushed him to lay back on his bed so you could straddle him.

“Merlin, Y/N. No foreplay?” He chuckled breathlessly as you gave his cock a few strokes and whispered a lubrication charm.

“Next time.” You sighed as you lined him up with your entrance and slowly sank down onto his cock, causing the two of you to moan in unison.

“Next time, huh?” Barty teased as he smoothed his hands up and down your sides, allowing the two of you to adjust to the feeling of one another before you experimentally rolled your hips.

“What? Don’t you want to fuck me, Junior?” You taunted right back.

Barty thrusted his hips up roughly into yours, causing you to cry out and place your hands on his shoulders to stabilise yourself. “I think it’s very obvious I want to fuck you.”

“Yeah?” You whispered, bringing your mouth back to his and biting gently on his bottom lip.

“Yeah.”

You breathed a laugh out through your nose before you bit down harder.

“Then fuck me.”

And before you could tell which way was up, Barty had flipped the two of you over so he now hovered over top of you and had his hand wrapped around your neck.

“You want to be fucked, doll?” He groaned as he hooked one of your legs around his hip allowing himself that much deeper in you.

If there was one thing you could thank the fucked up breeding habits of Purebloods for, it was apparently the size of their cocks. 

“You want me to ruin you?” He continued as he added more pressure to your throat, still grinding into your now sopping cunt. “Make sure no other wizard is ever good enough for you?”

Your entire body felt like it was on fire; the feeling when you’re sitting on the poolside in the sun after a swim; the beads of water only make the sun’s rays feel that much warmer against your skin.

“Oi.” He demanded, giving your cheek a chastising tap. “You gonna be good for me?” He asked more seriously this time.

His beautiful green eyes were nearly fully eclipsed by his pupils as he continued moving in and out of you with what you realised now was a very controlled pace. But you were eager to see where he’d go from here.

“I’ll be good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.” He ordered.

“I’ll be good.”

“What was that?”

“I’ll be good, Barty.” You whined, pulling at his arms in an attempt to bring him closer.

“Who are you going to be good for?”

“You.”

“Yeah?”

You hummed in agreement as he hiked up your other leg and wrapped it around his hip.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll be good for you! Promise. I’ll be so good for you, please.”

Barty chuckled and let out a taunting cooing sound as he fell to his elbows and brought his face to yours.

“There’s no need to beg, sweets.”

And just like that, he was pulling away from you again.

Suddenly, his hands were on your hips and he lifted them into the air, holding them there as he began slamming into you. 

“Gonna be so fucking good for me, aren’t you angel?” He grunted.

You scrunched your eyes shut at the feeling of his throbbing cock pounding into you; adjusting his angle every few thrusts in search of something.

“I bet you’re a fucking screamer, huh? You always got so much to say babygirl; don’t go quiet on me now.”

His fingers dug further into the fat of your hips as he adjusted his grip on you, causing you to let out an embarrassing keening sound.

Apparently that was close, but not quite what Barty had been looking for.

“Close. How about we try…”

And he pulled out of you completely before landing a hard smack against your pussy, forcing a surprised scream to tear from your throat. 

“There’s the pretty sounds I was looking for.” He celebrated, rubbing placating circles on your clit before repositioning himself and sinking back into you. “Think you can keep that up for me, Princess?”

“Yes!” You cried quickly, grabbing helplessly at the bedding as he once again lifted your hips up into the air, finding that sweet spot inside you that he’d been in search of before his interruption.

He knew he found his mark when you let out another strangled sob.

“Alright pretty girl, there we go, huh? Does that feel good?”

You were babbling affirmatives nonsensically as he groaned at the sensation of your walls clenching around him; yesses and pleases spilling from your lips.

“Fuck you feel so good.”

“Please Barty.” You cried, reaching a hand up to his wrist.

He let your hips fall to the bed as he brought one thumb to your clit and his other hand took yours in his.

“What is it, princess? Hm?”

“Please.” You whined, and it sounded pathetic even in your own ears in your current state.

But Barty only tsked and pulled two of your fingers into his mouth which he began to suck.

You could feel the tension building in your core as he quickened his pace with his thumb and his hips before letting your fingers go with a pop.

“I’ll take care of your princess, you know that. When have I ever let you down?”

Never.

“Never.”

He smiled triumphantly down at you; and though his mouth was cocky, his eyes were sincere. 

“Exactly. I’m not about to start now, yeah?”

And suddenly his thumb was gone from your clit, your ankles were thrown over his shoulders and he was leaning his weight against the backs of your thighs as he began thrusting into you with an air of desperation.

“Atta girl; so good, huh? S’good.” He grunted as his thrusts became somewhat sloppy. “S’fuckin’ good for me. Perfect for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted with each thrust of his hips. “Please, oh gods, please, please Barty.”

“I know, I know.” He grunted, clearly as close to teetering over some sort of edge as you were. “I know, I feel it. You’re alright, yeah? Go on, sweets; I’ve got you.”

And his hands were holding onto your thighs for dear life and he was kissing at your knee like even that silly little part of you was something worthy of worship, and he did have you and he never let you down and he wasn’t going to start now and you saw stars as you finally fell over the edge.

The room fell quiet as Barty locked his lips on yours, and you realised you’d been screaming. 

His hips stuttered as he thrust into you once, twice, three times more before he followed you over the edge; letting your legs fall from his shoulders as he fell to his elbows on top of you and the two of you fought to catch your breath.

In complete contrast to the Barty who was only moments ago pounding mercilessly into you, he started placing, slow, lingering, gentle kisses over your face as his thumbs rubbed idly at your temples.

He pressed a kiss to your neck, your jaw, the tip of your nose, over your eyelids, your forehead, your ear.

You knew Barty could have a soft side, but you never imagined it so tender.

“I knew you’d be a screamer.” He whispered, breaking you out of the serene moment and surprising a bark of laughter from you, which caused both of you to groan in discomfort before Barty slowly pulled out of you. 

“Stay here, princess.” He instructed as he walked away from the bed and returned a few moments later with a warm cloth and one of his (read: your favourite of his) t-shirts.

You watched him carefully as he cleaned you up - and once again, what probably should have felt awkward or embarrassing felt nothing but natural as he doted on you. 

“Can you sit up?” He asked; not one hint of condescension in his tone as he held the neckhole of his shirt open for you to slip your head into.

As it poked through, he pressed a kiss to your lips before helping to thread your arms in.

“Is it safe to assume we’ll be doing that again?” You asked with a smirk, causing him to scoff dramatically. 

“We’ll be doing that the rest of our lives if I have anything to say about it.”

After a shower and a change into comfies, the two of you returned to the common room, and though Dorcas was long gone, Evan could be found where the two of you had left him, now in the company of Regulus. 

“Well boys.” Barty sang dramatically as he swung his legs over the back of the sofa and landed on the seat with a bounce. “We just fucked.”

You rolled your eyes at his blatant goading as you sat beside him.

“Yeah? And I had potions today; so what?” Regulus muttered without looking up from his novel.

“What do you mean so what? This was the first time!” Barty argued.

“This is new.” You insisted severely.

“You know, I always knew Barty was a liar; but I expected better from you, Y/N.”

Your mouth dropped open as Regulus and Evan stood up and walked away from the seating area.

What you didn’t see as they walked towards the Slytherin dungeons was Regulus passing Evan five Galleons for their bet on who could convince the two of you to finally get over your “just friends” bit.

[crescenthistory]

#11 "i want to see you" with Regulus pretty please?

well, when you ask so nicely, of course babe<3

Prompt: E.11 "I want to see you"

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: not proofread, implied smut (mdni), foreplay, heavy makeout, implied trauma and mental health issues on reggie's part, creating a safe space during sexy times, established but new relationship

Note: this man is not okay and i want to personally rectify that. don't know how i feel about this one, but it's something!

The curtains in Regulus’ dorm are drawn, bathing the room in a soft glow from the lantern on the bedside table. You have been spending more nights here than in your own bed the past few weeks, your lives being tangled more and more, and the thought of it all tasted sweet. Each night, you fall into this rhythm, this back-and-forth dance of give and take, of pushing and pulling, daring the other to take it another step. 

His hands are at your waist as you straddle his lap where he sits against the headboard of his bed, fingers tracing absent-minded patterns across your skin. Your shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor, leaving you half-exposed, while Regulus is still fully dressed, save for his tie, which is deliciously loosened. The knot hangs precariously around his neck, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, revealing the pale skin beneath. His chest is heaving and his heart erratic beneath your palm.

His lips meet yours again, soft at first, like he is testing the waters, but you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves, the barely restrained control he is trying so hard to maintain. It’s intoxicating, the way he holds himself back, but you want more. You need more.

You deepen the kiss and feel him melt slightly into you as your fingers tangle into his dark curls, pulling him impossibly closer.

When you break the kiss, you rest your forehead against his, breaths mingling. His hands still linger at your waist.

“Regulus,” you murmur, voice low and edged with something unspoken, "I want to see you.”

His brow furrows slightly, lips parting as if he’s about to speak, but nothing comes out. You bring a hand to his face, thumb brushing over his cheek, his jawline tense beneath your touch. You know he understands, even if he doesn’t want to.

“I understand why you're scared,” you repeat, voice softer but no less insistent. Your fingers move to the knot of his tie, slowly pulling it loose, and you feel his breath stutter against your skin. “But I care for you. I will take care of you, I just want to see you. All of you.”

You mean the words in every possible way. You want to see him — vulnerable, bare, unguarded. Not just physically, you want him to let go, to stop hiding from you, from himself.

His eyes flicker to yours, wide and uncertain, but you can see the desire, the passion, burning in them. A spark that matches the fire simmering inside you. His hesitation makes your heart ache, because you know why he feels the way he is, why he is wired like this, how much he fears losing control, of unravelling in front of you. But you also know how much he wants this — how much he wants you.

Your hands move to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one, your movements slow, deliberate. You give him ample time to stop you, tell you he's too scared, but he just watches you, hunger slowly overtaking his uncertainty. You can still feel the tension radiating from him, the way his breath comes faster with each button undone, as if he's teetering on the edge of something he can’t quite name.

“Let me in,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his collarbone as you push the fabric of his shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. “I want to see you fall apart.”

He exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath for years. His hands move from your waist to your back, pulling you closer as his lips crash into yours again, more desperate this time, more raw. You can feel the shift, the way his restraint is slipping, the way he is starting to let go.

You’re pressed against him now, your bare skin against the warmth of his chest, the last of his barriers crumbling as you move together. His kisses grow hungrier, his hands rougher as they trace the curve of your spine, the dip of your waist. He groans into your mouth, and the sound sends heat pooling low in your belly.

"I need you," he whispers against your lips. "Just you."

Your hands explore his chest, fingers swirling over his nipples, smiling when he jerks into your touch at the sensation. You let your nails lightly scratch over his stomach, moving slower as you caress his happy trail and eventually the waistband of his trousers. He is receptive to your touch, finally making the occasional sound of enjoyment as he uses his tongue more surely, more passionately. The controlled Regulus Black allows himself to be more sloppy, more desperate, and the mere thought that it's all for you excites you more than anything.

A teasing finger slips beneath the edge of fabric, pulling slightly at it as you push yourself further into him. You feel him tense slightly against you again, though this time it's not from hesitation — it’s from the sheer intensity of everything he’s feeling. He’s right there, on the cusp of losing himself in you, and it’s driving him equally as mad.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your free hand caressing his jaw and neck, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “Reggie,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to be closed off with me. I’m right here.”

"You are," he repeats, eyes holding yours intensely, the weight of your words sinking in. You see the war dying inside him — the battle between wanting to keep his walls up and the overwhelming desire to tear them all down for you. One of his hands moves to your thigh while the other holds your back as he lifts you up from his lap to place you on the mattress behind you. You gasp and he smiles, devilishly and beautifully, before kissing you deep.

“Merlin,” he groans against you, his voice low and wrecked, lips trailing down your neck. His teeth graze your skin in a way that has you arching into him and he meets you in turn. He is starting to unravel under your touch, piece by piece, and it’s the most intoxicating thing you have ever seen.

You feel his hands at the clasp of your bra, his fingers only shaking ever so slightly as he undoes it. There is something vulnerable in the way he moves even now, like he is baring himself just as much as you are. When your bra falls away, his breath catches, and for a moment, all he can do is stare at you, his gaze reverent, like he can’t believe you are real.

“So beautiful, so, so gorgeous,” he whispers, already moving down to kiss across your chest with an open mouth, voice rough with need. His hands tremble as they slide up your sides, kneading the flesh, and you can feel how close he is to losing control, but he’s holding on, just barely, because he’s still afraid to fall completely.

You cup his face in your hands, pulling him back up to meet your eyes. “Let go, my love,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a breath. “I want to see you.”

His resolve shatters.

With a low, broken groan, he kisses you again, harder this time, his hands everywhere at once — your hips, your thighs, your breasts. He’s a mess of need and want, his careful control slipping through his fingers like sand. He is undone, and it is everything you’ve been waiting for.

His trousers are the next to go, discarded in a rush as he moves above you, his body pressed to yours, skin to skin. The heat between you is unbearable, but it’s perfect, and when he finally gives in, when he finally lets himself fall apart in your hands, it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. 

As his groans fill the space between you, as you pull him closer, your bodies tangled together in a perfect mess, you realise this is what you’ve both been waiting for — raw and real, he is completely yours and you his. He whispers your name into the darkness.

[here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can]

Nobody:

Barty and Evan: we put the hot in psychotic

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

What's My Name? - R.B.

Bully!Regulus Black x fem!reader

summary: you’ve befriended the emeralds and few other Slytherin’s. Regulus is drawn to you like a magnet, but knows you have no business associating with them or their families, so he tries to scare you off. It backfires spectacularly.

cw: MDNI 18+ Regulus tries to white fang you. degradation, bullying, toxic relationships and friend groups, future death-eaters, trauma, Black Family Angst, choking, dry-humping, p in v sex

an: Ik everyone has a different marauders!era slytherin group, so here’s a quick breakdown of my personal headcanon:

Inner circle: Regulus Black, Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch Jr., Pandora, and Dorcas Meadowes (the emeralds)

Outer circle: Severus Snape, Avery, Mulciber, Emma Vanity, Charity Burbage, Aurora Sinistra, and Wilkes.

Circle-adjacent: Lily Evans, Marlene McKinnon, and the Marauders

There is also the much darker group with Rabastan Lestrange, Thorfinn Rowle, and the Carrow’s, who actively prey on some of the others for Voldemort’s Cause.

────────────────────────

No matter how hard Regulus tried, you refused to leave his orbit. You had no business affiliating with him and his friends, and had no idea what that affiliation truly meant. It meant darkness. It meant bloodshed. It met imminent and very real danger. A war was brewing right under your nose.

Regulus had been born and bred for this, as had most of his friends, but you…you were an innocent. Intelligent, witty, trusting. As much as he tried not to care, he couldn’t stand to watch your light be snuffed out for simply existing around them: metaphorically or literally.

But no matter how many times Regulus tried to run you off, spare you from what came next, you would not heed. In fact, you seemed to take his animosity as a challenge, leaving him in the predicament of being your unwitting adversary.

You were in the Slytherin common room now, curled up by the fireplace with Pandora, Evan, Barty and a few others, doing more gossiping than studying despite the piles of books and parchment on the floor around you. The greenish light of the lake contrasted with the glow of the fire against your face, creating an otherworldly halo around you.

You hair was pulled back, revealing the slender curve of your neck, the dip in your v-neck sweater where a silver pendant rested against your clavicle.

You laughed at whatever terrible joke Barty made and Regulus rolled his eyes, turning back to the spell book in his lap. He was studying alone, having told Evan a number of times to fuck off and let him work on his assignments in peace.

“Regulus!” Emma called suddenly, and he cringed, pretending he didn't hear his Quidditch captain. “Reg!” She called again.

He closed his eyes, willing them all to disappear.

“Regulus fucking Black!” She hollered, loud enough for the whole common room to fall silent.

He clapped his book shut and stalked over to where you all were sitting, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other clamped on his book.

“Yes?” He droned, leaning against the arm chair Emma was sitting in.

“Can you help me with this?” Emma asked, holding up her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework.

Annoyance prickled along his skin. “What good is a genius pet if she doesn't help with your work?” He asked, leveling you with his coldest stare.

You tilted your head, eyes flicking from his black, curly hair to his leather shoes, and didn't respond.

“She said she wouldn't help me,” Emma pouted.

“I said I wouldn't do it for you,” you corrected.

“Barty, then?”

“No can do, Reg,” Barty responded, coughing up a lungful of pungent smoke, waggling a joint in Regulus’ direction.

Emma waved the smoke from her face. “Will you help, Reg? I have to get a good grade in the class or I could lose my spot on the team. And you know these lot are useless at spells.”

He sighed and took the assignment from her hands, flipping through the pages. It was rudimentary work, things she really should know in order to defend herself.

“Can't help you,” Regulus said, handing it back to her. “If you can't do this, maybe you should be demoted.”

The group ooooh’d at his dig.

“Reg!” Emma whined.

“Ignore him, Em. Not everyone takes to dark magic as easily as the ancient and most bitchy house of Black,” you quipped, narrowing your eyes at him.

Regulus resisted the urge to clench his jaw, feigning the nonchalance you wore like a second skin. The group swiveled to look at him.

“All magic, really. But thank you, darling,” he purred, winking at you.

“You should have seen Sirius in advanced Transfiguration last semester, he's a natural. Truly a gifted wizard,” you continued.

“Hot as fuck, too,” Evan added, just to dig the knife in a little deeper.

Regulus’ blood began to simmer, his temperature rising beneath his dark robes. He tsked under his breath, shaking his head. “I thought you'd be smart enough to not fall for his clown act.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Evidently not.”

“I wouldn't touch a Black with a twenty foot pole,” you replied, leaning back on your hands, stretching your long legs out in front of you, your skirt sitting high on your thighs.

“Who said anything about a pole?” Regulus replied, mimicking your condescending head tilt.

The group snickered, watching your verbal sparring like it was a duel.

“You sound a bit jealous, Reggie. Need a little attention?”

Reggie. His mask nearly slipped, he was so caught off guard by the nickname on your sharp tongue. “May as well, since you give it out so freely.” He glanced down at your shapely legs, punctuating his point.

Your head fell back as you laughed, your chest pressing up and tits bouncing, and he felt an irritating kick in his trouser as the heat of his anger took a new, sinful shape.

“It's the 70’s, love. Are you still so prudish?” You lifted your head, pining him with eyes fierce enough to cleave him in half.

He smirked. “Far from it. Just selective.”

“Don't see much of a selection to chose from,” you chuckled, earning another spike of laughter from the group. “What I see is a spoiled youngest son with nothing better to do than needle the people around him to fill the hole in his chest.” You got to your feet, shouldering your bag.

Regulus felt like he'd been punched clean through the sternum, your words never failing to cut to the quik.

“Spoken by a girl with nothing better to do than fish for a rich husband that might save her from her home in the gutter. Trust me, nothing can fill the hole of inadequacy, y/l/n.”

You stepped over Evan and Barty's tangled limbs and left without another word, leaving Regulus’ cruelty to echo off the glass and stone, the group silent.

Regulus turned on his heel and disappeared into the boys dormitory, guilt dogging every step.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The Quidditch match was in full swing, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and the score was neck and neck. It was up to Regulus and the Gryffindor Seeker now, since neither team could get a leg up through the rings.

You sat in the stands sipping hot chocolate with Marlene, Pandora, and Dorcas, Barty pouting to your left because he couldn't sit with Evan in the Slytherin stands.

Regulus hovered a few meters away, his eyes trained upwards, catching every falling leaf and ripple of air around him. You hated how handsome he looked in his Quidditch robes, his lean body relaxed on the broom despite the stakes.

That was Regulus, un-fucking-shakeable. And it drove you insane that you could never get a rise out of him, but he managed to needle one out of you time and time again.

He was as relentless as a northern wind, and you couldn't help but be swept away.

His dark curls framed his angular face, those perpetually sleepy eyes the most arresting green. Sure, everyone thought Sirius was hot, but Regulus was beautiful, ethereal almost, and he wrapped around your mind like a constrictor.

You watched as the other Seeker suddenly took off above the Hufflepuff stands, in pursuit of something, and the Gryffindor stands cheered. But Regulus remained motionless, watching his opponent like a cat trailing a mouse. Even as Slytherin urged him to take up the chase, he remained unmoved, bidding his time.

His bottomless patience would be awe-inspiring if it wasn't so damn frustrating.

You wouldn't have an issue with Regulus, maybe even could have been friends with him, if he hadn't taken issue with you first. You had no idea what his fucking problem was, whether it was because your family was poor, you had better grades than him, or what. He loathed you from the moment you showed up in the Slytherin common room, and you've yet to receive an explanation.

You'd been saddled with a one-sided rivalry, but you'd be damned if you let him defeat you now after a full semester of back and forth.

The other Seeker pulled up short, whipping his head around like he'd lost something, and you saw Regulus crack a smirk, his canines white and sharp.

Regulus turned his head suddenly, quick like a bird, and then he was off in a blur of motion. His opponent was all the way across the pitch, entirely too far to get there in time.

A moment later— “Regulus Black has caught the snitch for 150 points! Slytherin wins!”

The Slytherin stands erupted with cheers while every other house booed, including your own. But you knew a Slytherin victory meant a rager in the dungeons, so you kept your lips sealed.

Instead, you watched Regulus land at the center of the pitch, the golden snitch held lazily between his pointer finger and thumb above his head. Any other Seeker would have been parading around the field, or flying in wide circles over the stands, screaming their head off, but Regulus was silent. His victory spoke for him.

Although, you knew he'd still be smug as fuck later.

As soon as the stands began to drain, you, Pandora, and Barty caught up with the rest of your Slytherin friends, all of them buzzing about the victory, even melancholic Severus. By the time you all reached the dungeons, a party was already in full swing.

Music thrummed along the walls, so loud it caused ripples in the Black Lake, making the emerald-tinged moonlight shift and dance along the floor. You happily accepted a shot of gin, then another before letting Evan cajole you out onto the dance floor.

Sweat pooled along your spine as the music wore on, your hair wild and loose down your back as you danced, electric energy flowing through you.

A cheer came up from the entrance and everyone turned towards the commotion. The Slytherin Quidditch team strode into the room, black robes billowing behind them. Regulus stood at the front, of course. Even from several meters away, you could see the confident glimmer in his eyes, the arrogant tilt of his chiseled jaw.

Fucking Black’s.

Like a magnet, his eyes found yours across the room, and you nearly tripped over Evan’s feet at the venom they held. But he looked away as quickly as he found you, getting swept up by the crowd and disappearing from your line of sight.

You tracked down another shot and rejoined Evan and Barty on the dance floor, squished between them in a tangle of limbs. Impossible to tell who’s hands were where, just a mess of sensation and touch. The temperature in the common room was rising expontentially, so you shed your sweater, leaving you in your skirt and a white camisole, sweat making the fabric cling to your skin.

A few songs passed like that, and a blonde guy you barely know, Rowle, you thought, took your friends place when they tapped out to smoke. You rolled your body against his, enjoying the way his thick muscles felt beneath his robes, the hungry way he was staring down at you. But you were about ready to take a break yourself, the musky smell of weed calling your name from across the room, when the hair on the back of your neck suddenly rose.

You looked around, searching for the source of your bodies response, when you locked eyes, once again, with Regulus.

He was sitting in a circle of couches against the glass wall with your shared friends, a halo of smoke around his head, a girl perched on his lap, sucking at his neck while he took a drag off of a cigarette. But his eyes were glued to you, tracking every movement you made with the same intensity he tracked the golden snitch.

Confidence wafted through you, and you wrapped your arms around your dance partners neck, letting him dip you so low your hair pooled on the floor, your tits nearly falling out of your shirt. You rolled back up slowly, articulating every vertebrae in your spine until you were chest to chest with your partner, sharing the same breaths.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Regulus choke on the smoke, dislodging the girl from his skin, and you smirked.

You let your partner turn you, showing every angle of your body, and you dropped low, circling your hips in time with the resinous goth song as you rose back up.

Regulus' cigarette hung limp between his fingers, his perfect jaw a little slack.

Emboldened, you broke away from your partner, letting yourself get lost in the sensuous, thrumming beat. Your arms rose above your head, your shoulders and hips swaying in time. It felt like you were hypnotizing him, his eyes glued to every undulation of your hips, and you couldn't recall a time where you felt more alive.

Too soon, though, the music changed to a more electro-pop vibe, and you slipped reluctantly off the dance floor, the taste of smoke beckoning you across the room.

You sauntered over to the circle, pointedly ignoring Regulus as you approached.

“There she is,” Even cooed, extending an arm to you. “You looked amazing out there.”

You smiled, sliding into his lap and taking a drag from the joint between his fingers. “Thank you, lovely.” You smiled sweetly up at him, and you could have sworn he started drooling.

“Feels even better,” Barty teased, sprawled out on the couch beside Evan, clearly a little too inebriated already.

You winked at him, and he flushed a deep scarlet. Pandora, who was resting on the floor between Dorcas’ legs, chuckled at his expense.

Regulus was quiet, per usual, watching as the group chattered around him, turning the golden snitch he caught over and over in his long fingers.

The smoke made your mind a little hazy, your tired muscles from dancing going loose, and you sagged into Evan’s side, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Regulus’ fingers tightened on the snitch, his jaw feathering, and your stomach swooped with nervous excitement. You’d never been able to rattle him before. Had you finally knocked the monolithic Regulus Black off of his axis?

“Reg, why so quiet?” Evan asked, nudging his leg with his boot.

Regulus raised a brow. “What would you like to talk about, Rosier? Fucking Junior? Or eye-fucking y/l/n?”

“We can talk about eye-fucking y/n.” Evan winked down at you, and you rolled your eyes. Avery barked a laugh from his spot on the other side of Regulus.

“Yes, let's,” Barty added, raking his willowly fingers through your hair draped over Evan’s arm. You hummed under the attention, knowing it was all in good, hedonistic Slytherin fun.

Well, almost all in good fun.

As always, Regulus couldn't let your ego inflate too much. “It's hard not indulge in a little novelty, no matter how ineffectual.”

Ouch. His words landed like barbs on your skin, but you ignored him, leaning into Barty’s attention with light moan.

Regulus shifted a little in his seat, his hands falling over his lap, and you nearly smiled. Regulus may act all high and mighty, but he wasn't impervious.

“Look at you,” Even purred, blowing smoke over your heated skin, your decolletage exposed as you stretched towards Barty. “Prettiest girl at Hogwarts, stretched across my lap.” You flushed, squirming a little in his lap, and Evan groaned. “You're torturing me, baby.”

Barty tugged on your hair, sending a skitter of pleasure down your spine and craning your head back even further. “Oh, keep doing that. He loves being tortured.”

“What a good girl,” Regulus hummed, and your pussy throbbed, soaking through your underwear. It was a rush, being admired by the heirs of some of the most powerful families in the magical world. But hearing those sweet words from Regulus, twisted into degradation, did sick things to your mind. “She's on track to graduate with her perfect, filthy-rich husband, and spend the rest of her days as mindless, fertile eye candy.”

You flinched, not that the boys noticed, and sat up a little, suddenly self-conscious in your barely-there shirt.

“We volunteer,” Avery and Wilkes said at the same time.

Evan’s arm tightened around you. “You'll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands,” he replied.

Claustrophobia clawed at your throat, but you couldn't let Regulus know how thoroughly he'd flipped your night upside down.

Wilkes drew their wand, pointing it at Evan’s head. “That can be arranged.”

“A no-name isn't worth it, children,” Regulus sneered. “Save your Azkaban trips for nobler pursuits than cunt.”

That's it. You swung your legs to the ground and rose, stalking towards Regulus. The group whistled and hooted, excited by the oncoming storm of drama.

You climbed into Regulus’ lap, straddling him and stealing the golden snitch from his hands. He was warm and solid beneath you, his expensive, amber cologne swirling with the smoke to create an addicting combination.

His hands immediately fell to your bare thighs, the cold of his rings biting into your heated flesh. His green eyes darkened, lids growing heavy as he looked up at you, his ebony lashes casting delicate shadows over his cheeks.

“Regulus Black,” you murmured in his ear while loosening his tie. His hands tensing on your thighs for a split second before he relaxed them. “You will never find someone that can withstand your thorns the way I do.”

He loosed a breath, chin lifting a little closer to your face like a wilted rose tilting towards the sun.

“You will never scare me off.” You brushed your nose along his temple, feeling his heart rate increase, his breath turn shallow. “I will ruin you, and you will thank me for it.”

Before he could respond, you slipped away, taking his prize snitch with you all the way to Ravenclaw Tower. Unreachable, even for the boy that had everything.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Regulus turned your words over and over in his mind, an endless, torturous loop. The others seemed obvious to his torment, prattling on and on while he burned through cigarette after cigarette, his tongue raw and throat scratchy.

Nothing would numb the ache on his chest, the pulsing strain of his cock beneath his robes. He'd already been painfully hard watching you move, watching you stretch across Evan and Barty like a contented kitten, preening under their devoted attention.

But when you climbed into his lap…fuck.

He was a heartbeat away from coming in his pants. One roll of your hips and he would have been done for, and you had no idea.

Or, maybe you did.

I will ruin you.

It was a miracle that you'd climbed off of him and stormed away, because the only thought he could formulate was please.

Eventually, he couldn't fucking take it anymore. He didn't even say goodnight to his friends, just disappeared into the dormitory and locked the door behind him.

He shirked his robe and grabbed a spare Slytherin scarf from his drawer. He flopped onto his bed and freed his aching cock, the head and angry red and shiny. He wrapped the scarf around it, squeezing hard for a semblance of relief.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, pumping his cock slowly as your voice filled his mind again, the feeling of your weight on top of him, your sweet breath on his neck, your perfume rewiring the synopsis in his brain.

His hand started to move quicker, breath coming out in desperate pants. He imagined licking across your dewy chest, tasting the salt on your skin, gin on your tongue. Blowing his cigarette smoke over your naked body, into your open mouth. So eager and flayed open for him to ravage—his innocent lamb to ruin.

“Fuck, y/n!” Your name wrenched itself from his throat as he came hard into his scarf, imaging it was deep inside your greedy cunt. His whole body shuddered with the force of it, his jaw hanging open as he pumped himself through the orgasm until he'd milked every drop from himself, wondering if your pussy, your mouth, would do the same.

He slumped back onto the pillows, completely exhausted, and shoved the scarf under his bed.

You were right, you would fucking ruin him, ruin his plans. And he wasn't sure if he hated or loved you for it.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Regulus avoided you for two weeks after that party, going so far as to skip your shared Potions class entirely. It was for the better really, you still felt a little raw after that night, the dull ache of his words combined with the unresolved arousal has left you out of sorts, to put it mildly.

If you ran into him, you weren’t sure if you’d throttle or fuck him to death.

Your friends were beginning to grow suspicious of his absence, and your squirrely behavior, and, unbeknownst to you, they set a trap to bring this stand-off to a finish once and for all.

Pandora chatted animatedly beside you as you walked together down the stairs to the dungeon, ranting about something Aurora did to piss her off. When you arrived to the dungeon, she suddenly paused to tie her shoelace, waving for you to go on ahead of her into the common room.

You did, and the large green door swung shut behind you.

“No! Fuck, Dora!” Regulus was right there, banging his fist on the door.

You looked around, bewildered, only to find the common room completely deserted. Except for Regulus, of course.

“Move,” you hissed, withdrawing your wand.

“I tried everything,” Regulus huffed, a hand raking through his dark hair.

“I said move,” you repeated, pointing your wand at him.

He rolled his eyes and stepped aside, walking back into the common room. He dropped onto the couch by the fireplace, retrieving his book.

You threw every spell you could think of at the door, but it simply wouldn’t budge. “What the fuck!” You shouted, nearly throwing your wand across the room out of frustration.

“They left us a note,” Regulus said, not looking up from his reading.

You stalked over to him, finding an open piece of parchment on the coffee table. Immediately, you recognized Pandora’s loping hand.

“Just bone already.” You read aloud, and scoffed. “What the fuck does that mean?” You glared at Regulus, as if he was somehow responsible, but he still didn’t look up.

“I suspect they’re tired of our bickering,” he replied, turning the page.

“And what does locking us in the dungeon together accomplish?” You couldn’t believe this was happening. Couldn’t believe they’d lock you in a dungeon with your fucking nemesis. Your school yard bully. The bane of your goddamn existence.

Regulus shrugged. “Maybe they think you’ll kill me.”

You let out an exasperated sound and stormed away from him, trying the door to the girls dormitory.

“Locked,” he called a millisecond after you tried the handle.

“Maybe I am going to fucking kill him,” you muttered to yourself. Resigned, you sat on a chair by the glass wall, as far away from him as you could possibly get, and sulked.

You had no clue how much time passed, the only light filtering in through the murky lake. The cold leeched through the glass, chilling you to the bone, but you refused to move closer to him. You’d freeze to death in here if you had to.

“Y/l/n,” Regulus said after the fifth full body chill wracked through you. “Come sit by the fire.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you bit back, and he snorted.

“Fine, freeze.” He returned to his book, not sparing you another glance.

Your hands started to ache from the cold, your jaw sore from your teeth chattering together. With a sigh, you got up and crossed the room. Regulus still didn’t look up, though you could feel his attention shift to you as you sat directly in front of the fire, holding your hands out to it.

“You really think they’ll leave us in here all night?” You asked, staring at the dancing flames.

“Absolutely,” Regulus answered, lowering his book to his lap.

You sighed, resigned. The only way out is through. “I’ll start.”

He tilted his head, dark brows drawing together in suspicion.

You cursed under your breath, and dove headfirst. “I don’t understand why you’re so shitty to me,” you blurted, refusing to look at him. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

He was quiet for so long, you finally caved and glanced over at him, only to find him staring back at you, expression unreadable.

“Regulus,” you huffed, frustrated.

“Y/n,” he mocked, and your stomach flipped despite his attitude. He’d never used your first name before.

“Just fucking talk to me.” You straightened your spine, folding your legs on the ground underneath you, the fire at your side.

He stared at you for a few more moments, his eyes dancing back and forth, before he leaned back against the couch and picked up his book.

“You’re a lot of things, Black, but I didn’t take you for a coward.”

His eyes flickered with anger, but he didn’t bite.

“Reg,” you murmured, softening your voice, and he rolled his eyes, the most unbelievably bored expression on his face. You shifted your weight, placing your hands on the ground, and lifted to your knees. Slowly, you began to crawl to him, being careful to not sway your hips too much, and he broke after only a few seconds.

“On your knees already, darling?” He teased, but the casual tone didn’t match his eyes. The fire in them, the way his hands tightened around the cover of his book, betrayed his true feelings.

Once you were directly in front on him, you sat back on your heels. “Be honest with me, Reggie, did it turn you on seeing me with Evan and Barty?”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by your question. In his lap, you saw his cock twitch, a small pulse along his right thigh.

Men are so fucking easy.

“What about when I was dancing with them? Sandwiched between their bodies?” You rolled your head on your shoulders, mimicking the way you danced and revealing the fragile plains of your throat, your hair falling around your face. “When Barty pulled my hair? When Evan blew smoke over my tits?”

Regulus swallowed hard, his eyes like melted jade.

“What about when I crawled into your lap?” You took the book from him and set it onto the table. Then, you placed your hands on his lean, muscular thighs and pushed yourself to your feet, straddling him the same way you did that night. His entire body was rigid beneath you, muscles coiled tight with tension. “Did you like when I whispered in your ear, Regulus? When I told you that I’d ruin you?”

“Y/n,” he rasped, breathing hard.

“Tell me the truth.” You were so close, your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you spoke. You committed to the contact, brushing your lips along his racing pulse, down his jugular vein. You fought to keep your thighs from clenching together, your own body responding to the feeling him slowly unraveling beneath you. “Do you hate me because you want me?”

“I don't,” he hissed through his teeth.

“If you say so,” you hummed, moving to slide off his lap.

He grabbed your waist, his grip bruising. “Don't you fucking dare."

“I thought you didn't want me?” You taunted, sitting back on his lap to look at him, a hand braced on his sternum.

When you shifted your weight, your pussy accidentally pressed against the hard outline of his cock. You had to force your hips to stay still, your pussy practically begging you to move when you felt him throb against your warm heat.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. All the malice had drained from his voice, his eyes locked on yours.

Then what the fuck did he mean?

You rolled your hips, biting back the moan that crept up your throat as pleasure snaked through you. Regulus was less successful, a broken groan falling from his pretty mouth.

“It would be so much easier to just tell me the truth,” you purred, slowly rocking your hips over his twitching length, allowing a hint of breathlessness to bleed into your voice. “It would feel so good, Reg, to let it all go. To lose control.”

“Shit,” he crushed under his breath. “What the fuck are you doing to me?” He grated, sliding his hands down to feel your thighs flex with each movement, his fingertips dimpling your flesh.

“What did you mean by ‘I don’t’?” You asked, tilting his chin up with a finger.

His jaw went a little slack as he stared up at you, his eyes heavy-lidded and shining. “I don’t hate you,” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then why do you say such awful things?” You stopped your movements, and he made a small noise in his throat, nearly a whimper, but didn’t answer. “Regulus,” you prodded, lifting yourself from him entirely.

“N-no, please, fuck y/n,” he stammered, lifting his hips to grind against you. Another moan threatened to spill from you, his body felt so fucking good against yours, but you managed to restrain yourself. “I did it to try and push you away, I—”

You lowered back onto him, your hips grinding in tandem, and his head fell back against the couch, releasing a throaty groan. You couldn’t hold back a small squeak of pleasure when the hard head of his cock grazed your clit just right, and a wave of pleasure crashed through you.

“Why did you want to push me away?” You started undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, revealing the pale expanse of his chest, lean muscles flexing as he thrusted up against you.

He shook his head, picking it up to look down at where your bodies met, a pool of your slick dampening his trousers. “Getting me all wet, lamb. You like toying with me?” he rasped, moving one of his hands to press a thumb against your clothed clit, his long fingers splayed across your pelvis. “Is that why I couldn’t scare you off?”

You nodded before you could stop yourself, a full moan finally breaking free with the added pressure. You were embarrassingly close to coming, to banter combined with the friction between your bodies was a lethal cocktail, a drug you weren’t sure you’d be able to quit.

You wrapped your hands around his throat, applying enough pressure that he gasped, the sound vibrating your hand. “Why are you trying to push me away?” You leaned closer to his face, his strained pants fanning across your lips. He was so beautiful like this, ravaged by lust and desperate.

“You know why,” he growled, grabbing your wrists. He rolled suddenly, flipping you beneath him and pinning your hands above your head. “What’s my name, y/n?” His free hand slid under your skirt, palming your soaked panties.

“Regulus,” you gasped, arching into his chest.

“Regulus what?” He started rubbing the heel of his palm over your clit, electric pleasure burning through you.

“Regulus Black.” You were on the brink of coming, teetering on that torturous edge.

“Tell me then, my clever little Ravenclaw. What does that say about me and mine?” He leaned down and dragged his teeth along your pulse point, pausing to suck a mark under your ear.

“Fuck, Reg, I’m going to come,” you whined, fighting against his hold as the feeling started to overwhelm you.

His hand stopped suddenly, ruining the orgasm you had just begun to crest. You cried out in frustration, tears springing to your eyes as the pleasure bled out of you, leaving you desperate and humming with tension.

“Answer me,” he demanded, grabbing your jaw with his slick covered hand.

“I’m not an idiot,” you snapped, eyes blazing into his. “I know what the fuck it means. And I don’t care.”

He fell still, eyes searching your face. “Then maybe you are an idiot,” he murmured, eyes softening now that the truth was finally out. “But so am I.”

He closed the final inch between you, connecting your lips in a searing, devastating kiss that you felt all the way to your toes. He released your hands and you tangled your fingers into his curls, finally feeling their softness for yourself as you pulled him closer. Your mouth parted for him, his tongue delving in to taste you.

“Reg, please,” you whined against his mouth, pressing your hips to his again.

“Tell me what you want, lamb.” He kissed down your neck, one of his hands sliding down to grip your thigh and draw it over his hip.

“Fuck me, I need you inside of me.” You clawed at his belt, flipping the clasp and tugging down his zipper.

“Merlin, yes.” He finished undoing his pants and freed his cock, pulling aside your panties to glide the head through your slick folds, lubricating himself. He notched the head at your entrance, hissing at the warmth already kissing him, and eased himself in.

Regulus wasn’t overly large, but the stretch was still divine, filling you until you went cross-eyed, an unholy cry ripping from your chest. He drew his hips back and slammed back into you, over and over again until your were in shambles, a moaning, shaking mess, on the precipice of coming for the second time.

“Come for me, love. I want to feel you break.” He cupped your face, kissing you as he finally pushed you over the edge, an orgasm ripping you apart at the seams. You screamed into his mouth, your cunt clenching around him as your body convulsed. “God, I love this fucking cunt. So perfect for me,” he growled, his hips losing their rhythm as your walls bared down on him, sucking him back in every time he pulled out.

“Reg,” you whimpered, sagging against the couch as the strength bled out of of you.

He pulled out suddenly, pumping his cock in his fist, your honey coating him. “Stay just like that, pretty girl. All fucked out and used. All mine—” a guttural groan broke the final word as he came in his hand, spraying ropes of cum over your rumpled skirt and Ravenclaw sweater, his head thrown back. He looked gorgeous milking himself for you, his muscles flexing with the effort, sweat beading along his skin.

He slowly relaxed, chest heaving, and looked down at you, ruined and covered in his cum. You stared back, completely starstruck by what just happened.

“I’m sorry,” he said, draping himself over you and pressing ksises to your forehead, your cheeks, your neck. “I’m sorry for everything I said. I didn’t mean any of it, I—”

“Me too,” you interrupted him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I know how hard things are for you, at home, I mean, and I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no. I deserved it. I shouldn’t have brought up your family—”

“But I kept—”

“I never meant too—”

You both exhaled, laughing softly at your rushed confessions, the sudden, giddy nervousness that bloomed between you where there once was glacial wit and razor-sharp banter. He sat you both up, removing your stained sweater and straightening your skirt, then righted himself.

“What now?” You asked when he finished fussing, studying his flushed cheeks, his tousled hair.

He sighed, suddenly looking grim, and your heart gave a nervous thump. “We find a way to keep you safe, lamb,” he said, meeting your eyes. “But until then, we should act like nothing’s changed. Okay?”

Uncertainty coiled in your stomach, but you nodded. “Okay.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Thanks for reading!

[lifeonawhim]

"♡Welcome back♡"

Pairing- Barty Crouch Jr. ×slytherin! reader

Warnings- Smut, knife play if you squint, Barty is a warning in himself 🙄, slapping (not him), readers lowkey a brat (as she should), theyre fwb?

An- I suck at writing probably and suck even more at smut but deal with it, please? Love you

Also not proofread x lowkey sucks

Summary- Poor menace baby missed you :(

You sigh in annoyance as you step into the hogwarts express. Where the fuck was he? Barty had told you he'd meet you at the 9¾ platform and you'd looked for him, like a stupid child, carrying all your heavy luggage in your search for him.

After 20 minutes of freezing your ass off, you'd gained a semblance of your spine back and you ground your teeth together as you decided to board the train with your other friends.

James had decided to take your luggage off your hands, you showed your gratitude to him with a hug. He was so much nicer than fucking Barty, you thought. He invited you to sit with him and his friends and you'd accepted gladly- sneaking into the gryffindor lobby's cabin, since houses weren't usually allowed to intermingle on the train due to some brawls that could break out but usually everyone ignored that. You sat chatting with the marauders, laughing and finding pleasant company in them.

You excused yourself to use the loo, and check on your slytherin friends too. You entered the slytherin lobby, peeking discreetly inside all the cabins, the ones which didn't have the curtains drawn on the inside, hoping for a glance of him, annoyed as you were. You didn't find him, to your fucking dismay. Annoyed as hell, you turn to go back to the gryffindor lobby.

But.

A hand yanks you inside a lobby. You groan hard as you bump into a firm chest. You look up, hand grasping for your wand, to hex whoever the hell had pulled you in.

"Not so fast, sweetheart" you hear him before you see him. You push away as your heart flutters. "What the fuck, Barty?" You say, narrowed gaze at him. He has the deceny to wince a little. "Dont be like that gorgeous, I got held up" he says rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah well fuck right off" you say as you turn on your boots and start to leave when he pulls you right back from the back of your neck, his grip gentle but firm. "I'll make it up to you darling, you know I do" he says, gaze locked on you. He doesnt wait for a response. Good for him because it worked. He kissed you- hard. He slips his tongue in your mouth, hand snaking around your waist as he backed you to the berth of the cabin.

"I dont have time, I have to get back and plus that trolley lady will be here in like any time-" you mumble against his lips. "I'll make it quick. Please I'll make it good for you" barty whispers desperately and you knew he would, having done this before countless times.

He sits himself on the berth and pulls you down to straddle him. Barty's hands slide down from your hips to your thighs, his grip tightening as he positions you on him. He kisses down your neck, sucking harshly, leaving beautiful spots of purple and blue along your once smooth skin.

He pushes your skirt up and your fleece tights down, his hand fiddles with your panties before he growls and reaches into his pockets- and takes out a pocket knife and slashes your panties as you gasp. "What the FUCK?" You mutter, you'd make HIM walk without his goddam boxers in this weather too you think to yourself before going along with it. "Sorry baby, took too much time" he groans impatiently as he quickly unbuckles his own goddamn pants and his cock springs out. You cannot fcking believe how much you missed it but it mustve shown on your face because Barty chuckles "Aww baby, I missed you too" he says before he lines it with your entrance and whine escapes you as Barty tenses underneath you. "For merlin's sake, what the hell are you waiting for?" You grit out and he responds with pushing himself in.

Shit. You both groan as you feel the stretch and he feels you. He hisses and his grip on your waist tightens. "Can I move?" He whispers to you and you nod, desperately. He doesnt need more- as he thrusts into you, hard and instantly clamps a hand over your mouth. "Sorry love, didnt mean to go so rough" he says unapologetically as he continues grinding into you. You throw your head back and arch your back as you feel him pumping in and out of you.

"Fuck Barty" you whine out and he nods. "I know love, I know" he whispers against your breasts, kissing them softly as he goes harder. Your thighs tighten around his torso as you grip his shoulders. He kissed you harshly and sloppily, savouring it while he thrusts up into you hardly.

"Stop kissing me like a dog" you moan out roughly and he punishes you with a particularly harsh thrust against your cervix. "I'll kiss you how I damn want" he growls as he kisses you harder.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" he chants in a whisper as his hips rock against you in short, sharp movements. His fingers come down to your clit- and Oh. You cry out, unable to help yourself. His fingers move against you in deliberate circles and he coos at you. "Such a dumb girl now, arent you?" He says softly, mocking. He strokes your clit softly as his thrusts are the opposite- hard and grinding into you.

You hear a knock on the cabin "Dear, will you like something to eat?" The woman with trolley asks and your eyes widen as you try to get up and barty pushes you down and puts his hand on your mouth. You shake my head, frantically and he pushes the tip of his knife into your jugular. "No baby, you just sit right here, ill take care of it" he says softly and he grabs your ass with his other hand and guides you to ride him.

"Yeah no thanks mam, we're good here" he says out and you thank the gods for the cabin curtains. You hear her trolly go past and sigh in relief. "There you go, such a good girl for me. You liked that didnt you, dirty girl? I felt you baby" he says as he pushes his knife a little harder and you moan. You yank his knife away and slap him. "Dont fuck with me. Do what you're here for" You mutter harshly and he moans, pumping up harder into you. "You're mean" he gasps out as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, a vein throbbing . You grind my hips down to match his rhythm and his shoves his fingers down your mouth and keeps them there for a second before dipping down to your clit. "Come for me please, come with me" he moans out as he frantically pushes into you, desperate for his release. "Please please sweet girl, come for me" he begs against your tits and you moan softly, clenching down on him as your orgasm washes over you and he moans into your tits too as he gives another thrusts before you feel his warmth in you. He continues to ride out your orgasm together before shuddering. Your thighs shake as you get off his lap and breath heavy.

"Bloody hell, fucked me so good I almost said I love you" you whisper out to him. And he snickers loudly.

"Call me sweet girl again. Only when youre in me though, it definitely got me there" you say dryly.

Barty, his lips tugging into a lazy, satisfied smile, raises an eyebrow. "Did it now, huh?" he muses.

He reaches out to cup your chin in his hand, his thumb brushing across your skin.

"I guess I'll have to file that one away for future use then," he says with a chuckle.

"I have to go Barty" you say sighing as you fix the rest of your clothing and he nods with a smirk. "I know, run back to your little marauders." He says with a mocking tone.

You glare at him. "You ditched me, bitch" and his eyes soften as he grabs your hand. "Didn't" he says.

"Did" you retort.

He lets out an annoyed sigh. "I forgot to grab this." And he passes the knife into my hands, a beautiful pocket knife of silver and serpentine engraving in it.

"For you" he says quietly and you look at him.

You lean down and peck his lips. "Arent you the sweetest?" You say and then smile to him- genuinely. "Thank you, its beautiful" you say and he smiles, his entire face brightens up.

"Catch you later, junior" you say slyly and he winks at you before you grab some of his candy exit his cabin

[moonyswarmsweaters]

Rosekiller Smut be like-

Barty: Okay, here are the ground rules:

Barty: You can punch me, kick me, pull my hair,

Barty: I am A-OK being stabbed,

Barty: biting and scratching are on. the. table,

Barty: you can use fire. Evan : These are the ground rules? Is there anything off limits? Barty: Damn, man. You got something really sick you wanna do, huh? Oh, you little pervert. All right, I like it. Don't tell me. Surprise me. Ooh, this is gonna be fun.

[motherearthlovesus]

an italian summer with theodore nott

sweet, slow, sunny days with theo (fic link)

[whorediaries-09]

Hii! Okay so I was that Barty ask, so thank you for answering!!!

I was thinking it could be for a knife kink? Maybe with dialouge #4, #27 (potentially marking initials?), and #30. I was thinking the reader could be the one to use the knife, but you take this whatever way you think is best! (Only if you want to use this idea ofc!)

oh i'm drooling...

but you belong to me;

pairing- barty crouch jr. x reader warning(s)- 18+ content, blood, darkish themes. a/n- both barty and the reader are fucked up in the head in this fic. they're both death eaters sooo. also first barty fic don't come at me.

ps- i left out one of the dialogues since it didn't fit in the fic. sorry </3

prompt- knife kink + 'do whatever you want to me. i'm yours to use,' + 'mark me. mark me so everyone knows who i belong to,'

the diner. kinkotober masterlist. kinkotober rules.

'you insolent little fucker!' you scream, bashing barty against your cold wall. your knife points at his neck, and he's wise enough, for now at least, to not do anything to agitate you further. he knows better than that, you with a knife was more dangerous than you with a wand.

'what the fuck?' he asks, trying not to notice just how attractive he found you all riled up like this. your voice cold and cruel against his eardrums. it brings him a sense of mirth which he can't describe. it makes his blood rush faster, it makes him feel hotter. he feels it crawl under his skin, gnawing at him.

'you think you can take credit for everything? when i go out and get my ass fucking kicked by everybody else, you think you'll sneak away with all the power?'

barty hissed, poking out his tongue habitually. the dark room, lit by candles, illuminated your features. your breath was hot against his mouth, as you moved closer, intentionally or not, he didn't know.

all he knew was that he felt his crotch tighten and grow painful, bulge forming against his slacks. he couldn't help it, the cold graze of the metal of your knife digging into his skin, an inch from injury roused him further.

you stared at his eyes, which dilated with every passing second. you pretended not to feel the bulge against your crotch. it had been cat and mouse between the both of you for a month or three. if you'd finally get him on his knees, begging for you with a knife at his neck, you weren't complaining.

neither would he.

'you're so pathetic,' you spit, testing the waters. 'i can feel your erection you know,' you said, digging the edge into his skin deeper, somehow still not hurting him. you felt all the walls he'd build trying to constrain himself melt, as he falls deep into your words.

he wants your knife carved into his skin. he wants you to make him bleed, to let the metal of the blade go under his skin. he wants you to carve your name out on his skin. he wants you open up his chest, sink your hands into his barred ribs. he wants you to crack them open, take out his beating heart. feel it beat quicker as you kiss him. as you explore him. as you touch him. as you feel him.

he doesn't say anything. but it's as if you know what he wants to say. you can smell the lust growing, the charged electricity growing between the both of you. in a short moment, you spin him, throwing his body on your bed.

'whatever shall i do to you?' you mock, thrashing out your knife across his clothes. they fall on your sheets like dominos when pushed. you see his bulge hard against his slacks. his eyes are glassy, almost begging, but not giving in yet.

he wants you to force him to give in.

you straddle his hips, knife against his bare chest. you feel his heart rate quicken. his hands grip your waist, and you slap them away.

'don't touch me until i tell you to,' you say, cold metal of the knife slowly passing through the layers of his skin. till droplets of blood seep out, till a wound forms.

'do whatever you want to me. i'm yours to use,' he breathes slowly, toying his tongue over his chapped lower lip. he watches your lip curl.

'i'll ruin you, barty,' you say, lips trailing over chest. it stops at his wound, lips sucking the blood onto your tongue. the metallic taste falters on your taste buds, spreading across the wet muscle before it mixes with your saliva, salvaging down your throat. he hisses at your action. he bucks his hips, clothed erection against your wet core.

'mark me,' he says, as you zip him down, 'mark me so everyone knows who i belong to,'

'oh yeah?' you say, degrading. you line your cock to your slit, pushing himself inside of you. your walls clench as you feel him fill you. you slowly drag the knife across his skin, so he feels the cold blade striking across his skin. you thrash it across the layers of his skin, forming the alphabets of your initials. blood draws out with each stroke.

he winces with which strike against his skin as he bleeds. it hurts, it burns. but the coldness of his blood against the fierce nature of his wounds is a contrast. the thought that your initials will leave a scar on his chest is a comfort.

you place your lips on the wound, the fresh blood that oozes out of his chest. you let its taste stay before you hold his mouth, pulling him closer to your face. your lips interlock with his, your tongue slipping into his mouth. his and yours saliva mixed together with his crimson blood falters as you hold him enchanted with your kiss.

'now i've marked you as mine,' you say, moving your hips slowly. you take his hands into yours, placing them on your waist. 'you hear that? now you're mine, and solely mine,' he thrusts his hips, taking the cue. you put the knife against his neck, so close to his artery. it's almost as if you can see the blood convulsing from the thick nerve.

'and you're going to fuck me,' you breathe, as his thrusting eradicates, unrhythmic and desperate. you catch a moan in your throat as his tip hits your g-spot. 'you-you're going to fuck me till you've ruined yourself for anyone but me,'

'i'm going to,' he groans, your walls clenching around his cock with your core tightening, the pleasure of orgasm on the brink of release. 'ruin myself, just for you, darling,'

it's more of a promise, and one of the few genuine things he'd promised you. you breath harer, not being able to control your moans and groans anymore.

'i'm going to,' your head falls backwards, the pleasure almost escaping, 'f-fuck, i'm going to cum,' you say.

'me too, darling,' he says, his thrusts now sloppy.

'together,' you order. he nods, and you pull him closer by curling your hands behind his sweaty neck, and plant your lips over his, kissing him deeply, swallowing all his moans and gasps as you clench and release around him, and he simultaneously releases inside you. he fucks you through the wave of release before his cock softens inside you. his cum flows down on the sheets, and you wince, sensitive.

'you belong to me,'

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©whorediaries-09, 2024.

[iloveratmen]

where the fuck are all the HAPPY rosekiller fics

(emphasis on the happy)

Fuck it i’ll take a HAPPY jegulus fic

(if either of these fucking exist)

[juleswritesstuff]

Holy hands, will they make me a sinner ?

You seem to have a little secret. Regulus figures you out immediately.

regulus black x fem!reader

warnings: smut

“If you bore holes in them I won't be able to finish my essay, Y/n” 

His voice brings you back from the apparent state of trance you had unconsciously fallen into. Blinking rapidly, you regain perception of the walls of your dorm room surrounding you and the myriad of books scattered across your bed.  You shift your gaze to his gray eyes and you find them already set on you.

“Pardon ?” your voice has a confused edge that almost makes him chuckle.

“My hands” he explains, his tone as neutral as ever “You were staring”

Your eyes go a little wide, like you had been caught stealing the last chocolate frog of the stash. You swallow, trying to compose yourself as best as you can.

“I was doing no such thing” you declare, a bit too solemn and defensive to be the truth.

Regulus pins you with an unimpressed look, his left brow arching just enough to tell you that he isn't buying any of your bullshit.

A defeated sigh leaves your lips. 

It is no use hiding something from Regulus Black. He will find out one way or another, and you got caught right with your hands in the jar.

“Ok, fine” you admit, lifting your shoulders to make it seem like the most casual thing ever “I was looking at your hands”

Regulus’ expression doesn't change, but the glint of amusement flashing in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed.

“More like ogling, I would say” even his tone has a playful bite to it.

You like this side of him. The Regulus who is able to relax a bit and let go when he is surrounded by the people he is comfortable with.

But carefree Regulus also means menace Regulus apparently.

“I wasn't ogling” you grumble, rolling your eyes “I was just admiring them” 

His eyebrows furrow.

“Why ?” he seems intrigued as the question leaves his lips.

Why, he has the courage to ask.

Well the answer is that Regulus Black has the prettiest, hottest, most gorgeous hands you have ever laid eyes on.

They are elegant, slender, the little veins underneath the pale skin gracing your eyes with their presence with every movement he makes, every flex of his muscles, producing a delicious design that hypnotizes you. 

They are smooth but decorated by light calluses, undoubtedly caused by Quidditch, that create a divine contrast with his otherwise untainted skin.

His fingers are long, lean, clad in silver rings that make your mouth water with how exquisitely sultry they make him look.

And suddenly, but not surprisingly, you find yourself imagining what it would feel like to have those hands on you, exploring every inch of your body, dancing on your skin like flames dance in the cold hair of the night. The cool metal of his rings being at odds with your scorching hot skin, making you hiss as his skilled fingers create a burning path over your body, traveling everywhere. Your legs, your thighs, your hips, chest, shoulders and stopping right at your neck, wrapping delicately, reverentially around it. Worshipping the sensitive skin, feeling the erratic pulse of your heart and-

“You’re doing it again” his words interrupt your spiraling for the second time that day, sounding dry and apathetic as always, but a hint of teasing twinkles in the otherwise coldness of his eyes.

“You have nice hands, that’s all” you manage to say without giving away all the less than pure thoughts flooding your mind in that moment. “From an artist point of view, obviously” you add, shrugging, trying to make everything less than obvious.

You really hope Regulus didn't learn to cast a Legilimes in his free time, otherwise you were well and truly screwed.

Bringing up your passion for drawing is futile and you know it. You know he knows the drooling over his hands isn't for the sake of art. You can't fool Regulus Black, not even if you try to.

Which is both extremely annoying and criminally hot in your humble opinion.

But pretending is the only thing you can do to not feel embarrassed, holding onto the hope that maybe he doesn’t have you all figured out.

“So you’re saying that your interest is purely artistic ?” he cocks a brow as his head tilts slightly.

There’s something in his voice, in his eyes, that you can’t quite figure.

Your forehead scrunches in confusion.

“Yes, of course” you answer, trying to hide the stutter of your voice as best you can.

You are pretty sure he knows that you aren’t telling the truth, he somehow always knows. He reads you like an open book, and, for someone who doesn’t engage in showing his emotions too often, he is pretty damn good at reading the ones of others. 

So why that question ? You almost expected him to tell you to cut it out and get back to study because that essay isn’t gonna finish itself.

This is new, unexpected. 

Interesting.

“Would you like to draw them ?”

Your eyes go wide in surprise.

Wait.

What ?

Never, in all the years you have known each other, had he offered to model for you. 

He knew about you having an interest in arts, he even saw a couple of your drawings and paintings and he often asked about them and how they were coming up, but he never asked to be in them.

You never brought up the suggestion either. He is a reserved guy and he loathes having eyes on him, so you figured he would’ve never accepted even if you did.

That never stopped you from sketching him from afar, though. Those gorgeous features deserve to be portrayed.

But why the sudden proposition ?

You aren’t stupid. Regulus might know you like the back of his hand, but you could say the same about him. And this, whatever this might be, is not like him at all. 

Regulus never does anything for nothing, there is always an explanation, a reason to his every move. You think even his breaths are perfectly calculated.

But this time the why gets lost on you, and the harder you try to understand the less it all makes sense.

“I can see the gears in your brain twinsting and turning,” he says, calm and composed as ever.

He is sitting on your bed, the quill he was using to write his Charms paper now abandoned next to him. His back is perfectly straight, leaning on the headbord to support his weight. The raven strands of his hair create soft waves that frame his face in a delicate and enchanting way. His lips are stretched in a rare, playful smile, curling up slightly on the left side.

He is beautiful. Dangerously so.

“It’s just-” you are confused, there is no doubt about that, but most of all you are intrigued “You have never asked me before”

“I know” 

That’s his only answer. Simple, concise. Enigmatic. 

Just like him.

“So why now ?” 

The question escapes your lips before you can stop it. You can’t help it, curiosity is consuming you, and the possibility of learning a new part of him makes your skin tingle with excitement.

“Why not ?” he shrugs “There is a first time for everything, right ? So why not now ?”

There is still that glint of something in his eyes. You don’t know what it is, you don’t think you would be able to give it a name even if you knew, but it's there, and it’s strong.

“I’ll get my supplies then” 

You slowly get up from the bed, feeling your heart in your throat in a mix of anticipation and nervousness, and you retrieve your album and a pencil.

When you sit back down you notice that the books have been neatly stacked in a small pile next to your bed and all the papers, previously scattered all over your sheets, are nowhere to be seen.

“Figured we might need the space” he says, like he read your mind.

“Thank you”, you give him a small smile before opening your album, turning the pages one by one, until you find a blank sheet, ready to be filled.

“Where do you need me ?” 

The way he utters those words with the utmost nonchalance, apparently unaware of the effect they have on you, nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

Everywhere, you think, before mentally smacking yourself.

You need to get a grip, for Merlin’s sake.

“Right there is fine,” you're able to say without your voice faltering “just angle your hands towards me, so the light is right”

He does as he is told, adjusting his position and moving his hands a bit to the right, veins in full display and rings shining under the warm rays of the sunset seeping through the window.

“That’s good” your mouth is suddenly dry as you gulp at that sight.

He is a bit far, and the light doesn’t hit as perfectly as you had expected, but you’ll work with it. If squinting your eyes a bit is the price to maintain your mental sanity then so be it.

Then you start drawing. The only sound filling the room is the gentle scraping of your pencil as your eyes focus on the white sheet in front of you, your gaze shifting to his hands ever so often to take a peek at them, like you haven't learnt every detail by heart.

You can feel his eyes on you. You try not to focus on it, but the shivers those pools of the color of a summer storm send down your spine are difficult to ignore.

“You’re straining your eyes” he blurts out of the blue. And it’s not a question.

Observant as always.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, your gaze never leaving the paper “this distance is good for perspective” 

“But it’s a problem for the lighting”

Those words make you lift your head up, your brows knotted in a frown.

How does he-

“And what would you know about the lighting ?” you eye him suspiciously, a small grin curving your lips.

“I guess all your rambles about that muggle painter weren’t in vain” he says, and there’s a cheekiness in his tone that is completely new to you “Caravaggio, right ?”

Your grin turns into a full smile.

“Right,” you nod, your eyes widening a little “I can’t believe you actually remember”

“I remember a lot of things,” he remarks defensively.

“Only those important enough to you” the teasing in your voice is light, playful, as your pencil glides on the sheet swiftly, adding strokes and shadows here and there.

There’s a beat of silence.

One second. Two. Three. And then-

“Exactly”

Your hand halts every movement, freezing completely. You look up from your paper and you find his gaze already on you.

Suddenly you are lost. Your heart is beating so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually able to hear it.

The implications of that single word swirl in your brain, creating a hurracane of thoughts that almost gives you whiplash. 

He doesn’t give you the time to even think properly about what he may have just suggested, because he decides to speak again. 

“I can come closer if you need me to” his voice is lower, deeper, oozing with that same something he’s had in his eyes since he caught you staring at his heavenly hands.

You want to scream. You have no idea of what the hell is going on and it’s confusing the shit out of you.

You know he is asking for that forsaken drawing you still have in your lap, but it somehow doesn’t feel like it. The electricity in the room is so high it feels like an open cable sending sparks flying everywhere, setting the air on fire. 

The only coherent thought in your brain is a chorus of yes, please and nothing else.

So you cave.

“You can,” you manage to say, because the necessity to protect your sanity might be strong, but the need to have him close to you is apparently stronger “if you want to”

His gaze is so penetrating you feel it in your soul, consuming you from the inside out and setting your whole body ablaze.

It’s compelling, hypnotizing even. 

“This is not about what I want, Y/n”

Oh, the way those words leave his perfect lips, making shudders erupt all over your body should be studied. 

Your world shifts on its axes and it starts spinning ten times faster. Because he knows. 

He knows. 

“We're not talking about art anymore, are we ?” you ask, swallowing soundly as your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Were we ever talking about that in the first place ?” his question is rhetorical. He doesn’t need an answer because he already knows it. He figured you out, like he always does.

So what was the point in pretending anymore ?

“No,” you admit “I guess we weren't” your trembling hands move the paper out of the way.

There is a spark in his eyes. It’s foreign, thrilling even, and it makes your skin prickle in the best way.

Suddenly he moves. He shifts his weight forward, approaching you slowly. The veins in his arms and hands bulging from the pressure and knocking the air out of your lungs in the process.

“So tell me” he whispers, crawling to you bit by bit, like a hunter advancing towards his prey. He seems to be calm, poised, totally in control of his body as he comes closer and closer.

It’s his eyes that betray him. 

They have always been the window to his feelings, talking more than his mouth even did. And right now they are burning, engulfed by a heat that makes your legs weak and your heart roar. The realization hits you, a rush of adrenaline running through your veins.

They are hungry.

“Tell you what ?” you stutter, unable to regain a hold of yourself. You can’t breathe, your palms are sweaty, you feel hot all over and he is close, so damn close.

He stops right in front of you, mere inches between your faces and a tension so heavy you can cut it with a butter knife.

“What you want” the warmth of his breath delicately caresses your skin. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, his eyes following the movement intently almost making you squirm under his gaze.

“You seem to know what I want” you murmur breathlessly, your body heating up in response to his proximity. 

Those hands, protagonists of some of the filthiest dreams you’ve ever had, are right next to you. Close enough to graze the skin of your thighs with his knuckles, but never indulging in the act. Like he is teasing you, waiting for you to beg for it. You shift your gaze to them and you swallow hard, the need to feel them on you growing stronger every second that passes. 

You are about to fucking combust.

His silver eyes are still fixed on you, intense and magnetic, as they follow your line of sight.

“I won't move a muscle unless you tell me to, Y/n” 

Those words, mouthed so close to your lips and mixed with the low, velvet-like husk of his voice, make your legs clench and your stomach churn in the best way possible.

You can’t take it anymore.

You move forward, abandoning your position on the bed to place your legs on each side of his hips, almost straddling him. Your hands are on his shoulders, helping you to keep your balance, feeling the lean muscles underneath the shirt as you hover over him.

His head tilts up, eyes sharp and hot and glued to yours. You hear him suppress a hiss as your thighs brush his hips. His arms are still next to him, hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white.

He is restraining himself. From touching you. 

Your thoughts are clouded, your mind hazy and completely out of it. The only thing you want right now is for him to place those perfect fucking hands on you and never stop.

“Do it” your voice is so weak and breathy it’s a miracle he hears you.

“Do what ?” he mouths, so close to your lips it makes your head spin.

You’re needy, desperate even, but you don’t care. You don’t have time to think right now. You want to feel.

“Touch me” you beg.

“Where ?” he sounds just as gone as you are, and you finally crumble.

“Everywhere”

It’s nothing more than a whisper but it shakes the both of you like an earthquake. 

You meet in the middle, your lips colliding and completely knocking the breath out of you.

His mouth is sinful, greedy, chasing yours with a hunger that almost makes you melt on the spot. You get lost in the softness of it, in the ungodly brush of your tongues making you moan breathlessly. You bite and nibble and lick and he follows you, matching the languid pace just as eagerly, as your hands tangle in his hair, pulling at the black strands delicately. The low groan that escapes his throat sends goosebumps all over you.

You are so focused on the filthy dance of your mouths that you almost miss the agonizingly slow graze of his fingers on the exposed flesh of your legs, gently tracing a path on your thighs.

The metal of his rings meets the hotness of your skin and you hiss.

Oh, it’s just as delicious as you imagined.

“Ah- fuck” you pant, millimeters away from him. Your head feels light, dizzy. 

You feel like you’re dreaming, lost in your own fantasies.

But his hands running up and down your thighs feel too fucking good to be just a product of your imagination. They travel slowly, excruciatingly so, making you lose your mind with every new inch of skin they explore. 

Until they sneak under your skirt, reaching your hips to gently knead the supple skin, applying enough force to bring you forward.

“Sit” It feels more like a plea than an order but-

Holy shit.

A gasp escapes your mouth before you can stop it.

Every cell of your body threatens to explode as he pushes your weight on him all the way, making you straddle him completely.

“Fucking finally” he curses, more to himself than to you, like he has been waiting for this moment his whole life.

His eyes are dark, fogged up by lust and need, and it's the lewdest thing you have ever witnessed.

“I have never seen you like this” you whisper directly on his lips, nibbling on the plush flesh.

He smirks, smirks for Salazar's sake, as his fingers move, reprising their mission to make you lose every ounce of control.

“It seems you were busy looking at something else”

His thumbs rub the skin of your inner thigh in a hypnotizing manner, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

You whimper as they get closer and closer to your core, your grip on the junction between his neck and shoulder tightening in pleasure.

But he must take it as some sort of sign of discomfort because he halts suddenly.

“Want me to stop ?” his eyes search for yours, the veiled concern in them making your heart stutter.

“Don’t you even dare” you say, a mere breath away from him before you dive in, capturing his mouth again.

It's messy and dirty and you get addicted to his taste way too quickly.

His hands move up, massaging your skin at every caress of your tongues, until they reach the hem of your panties.

He moves away from your lips for a quick moment, and he looks at you.

The silent ‘Can I ?’ written in his eyes almost makes you swoon.

You nod your head.

“I need words, chérie” he whispers sensually.

The combination of his right hand so close to your most sensitive spot, his left one traveling up to your hip, holding it tightly, posessivly, and that fucking pet name almost make you cum on the spot.

“Yes” you practically beg.

Only then he resprises his journey of exquisit torture along your body.

“Shit-” you quiver as he kisses your neck, branding the sensitive skin with his lips and teeth. His hands move, fingers skilled and sinful as they reach your heat.

You mewl as they make contact with the light material of your underwear.

“Jesus Christ” hs hisses a groan “you’re soaked”

A series of choked out whimpers leaves your lips as he strokes his fingers over your panties, feeling your wetness through the fabric.

“Fuck- Reg” a moan ripples from your lips when his thumb brushes your clit tentativley, making you gasp. Your hands fly to his hair, lightly pulling the soft strands with trembling fingers.

“Look at you, all horny and needy over my hands” his voice is tantalizing but you can hear the breathlessness, the strain in it. He is affected by this just as much as you are and it makes you go almost feral.

“Please” you breathe. You don’t even know what you’re begging for. Your mind is too hazy, too fogged up by lust and need to have a single coherent thought in it.

But he sure does know, because his digits move your panties to the side, just enough to glide over your slickness, making contact with the tender skin of your folds and spreading your wetness all over.

Finally, finally the hands consuming your every thought are on you, right where you had craved and imagined them the most.

You arch your back in ecstasy, biting your lip.

And it’s when his middle finger eases inside of you, slowly breaching your velvety walls, that you lose it completely.

The air gets knocked out of your lungs, liquid fire engulfs every cell of your body, every nerve and muscle consumed by pleasure.

“Regulus-” it’s the only thing you manage to mewl as he slides in and out of you in a rhythm so sensual and sultry it makes you melt. The cold metal of his ring meets the warm, sensitive skin of your cunt with every prod, creating a delicious contrast.

You never break eye contact, your gazes locked together drinking in every little detail, every wave of bliss swimming in them.

“Is this what you fantasized about, love ?” he pants right on your lips “All the times I caught you staring, is this what you were imagining my hands doing ? Fucking you senseless, feeling how tight and needy you are ?”

His words are as dirty as his eyes as he slides another finger into you, making you inhale sharply and stretching you out so good you could almost cry. 

“Ohmygodyes” you moan as your hips start moving to their own accord, meeting the prodding of his fingers eagerly, riding his hand like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

“But this is not the only fantasy you have, right chérie ?” he teases, going faster, harder, pumping mercilessly and leaving you a blubbering mess.

His left hand leaves its place on your hip and moves up, grazing the soft skin of your stomach, the supple and tender flesh of your breasts, the natural dip of your collarbones, worshipping every inch of your skin in their path, until they reach their goal.

“I bet you thought about this too, didn't you ?” 

You were always sure this would remain just one of your daydreams, the kind of dirty thought that should remain in your mind and nowhere else. But Regulus Black was Regulus Black and reading you was one of his favorite hobbies.

It still comes as a surprise, though, when he delicately wraps his hand around your throat, resting it there, feeling every pulse of your heart, every pump of your blood and adorning your neck with the prettiest fucking necklace you could ever ask for.

“Yes” it’s nothing more than a breath, but it sends him into a frenzy. His right thumb rubs your clit relentlessly, adding to the unforgiving pace of his fingers sliding in and out of you with lewd, wet squelches. The whimpers coming out of your mouth are raw, filthy and downright pornographic as you feel your orgasm approaching.

Your head is in the clouds, a hundred thousands miles from earth as the only thing you can focus on is the feeling of his hands on you, fucking you to your release as the one on your neck squeezes the faintest bit, enough to almost send you over the edge.

His left thumb leaves its place right above your jugular, moving upwards to caress your jawline, your cheek and, lastly, your lips.

You can feel the digit caressing the red, bitten flesh, brushing it with reverence, worshiping it with his whole being. His heated gaze is bewitched, entranced by your mouth parting, welcoming him past your lips, and lightly grazing the pad with your teeth before enveloping it wholly.

“Bloody fucking hell, Y/n” he rasps, voice low and dangerously close to pleading as you suck on his thumb like it's the tastiest treat you have ever put in your mouth.

The hand on your cunt speeds its pace, pounding in and out of you like a fucking machine, the vibrations on your little bundle of nerves getting more intense by the second, sending you over the edge in a mess of moans and whimpers.

“Reg, fuck, I'm-”

You reach your release with his name on your lips, back arched and hips rolling to help you ride your orgasm on those unholy fingers of his. 

Your vision is blurred, your brain fuzzy and overwhelmed by bliss as you slowly come back to your senses.

It takes you a few seconds to regain control of your body and mind, but when you do you are graced with a vision you are sure you will never forget.

The ever composed and collected Regulus Black is right in front of you with his expression contorted in pure lust, eyes bleary and unfocused, hair tousled by your hands relentlessly stroking them, lips red and glossy from the heated kisses, tie loose, crooked and shirt crumpled.

He is a mess.

The hottest mess you have ever seen.

You're still not fully out of your head space when he speaks again.

“You're loud” he grins, his tone teasing but still a little raspy.

“You're filthy” you bite back weakly, your voice hoarse and strained. 

“Maybe. But I don’t think I'm the only one” 

The fingers that have been inside of you not even a moment ago are now in front of you, coated and glistening with your essence.

He slowly brings them closer to your mouth, and you don't even think twice before eagerly welcoming them inside it.

The taste of yourself mixes with the metallic tinge of his rings as you suck leisurely, restraining a moan before he takes them out with a wet pop.

“Sale fille” he groans in french, lowly and right on your parted lips, before he dives in an alluring kiss. (Dirty girl)

It's slower than all the others you shared, but it's deeper, sensual and it almost gets you worked up all over again.

His tongue meets yours in a erotic dance and when the taste of your very essence coats his tastebuds a moan rumbles in his throat.

“You're sweet” his voice is nothing more than a whisper as his teeth nibble at your lower lip gently.

“Want me to find out if you're sweet, too ?” You offer with a teasing smile on your lips . His hands might be your biggest fantasy, but they sure as hell are not the only part of him you fantasize about.

“Eager, are we ?” he teases playfully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “Not today, chérie”

The little pet name creates butterflies in your stomach and makes your cheeks warm, but doesn't hide your disappointment. 

“Why ?” you ask, your hands going to fiddle with his tie.

“As I told you, this is not about what I want” he explains, his arms circling you in a loose hug “and I don't know if you noticed, but it's pretty late”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, and only then you realize that the sun has already set and the room would be totally surrounded by darkness if it wasn't for the few magic candles lighting up automatically when twilight hits.

Your eyes widen.

“How long have we been here for ?” your voice has a panicked hint to it, making Regulus laugh.

“I'm pretty sure dinner is getting served right now” he says nonchalantly, like it's the most normal thing ever to engage in sexual activities with your best friend and miss supper because of it.

“Which might be for the best,” he adds.

“Why ?” you ask in genuine confusion.

“Because I’m the only one lucky enough to hear your dirty little sounds” he says with a shit-eating grin before kissing you again.

Thank you for reading 💖

[lulublack90]

Prompt 30 - Rely

@rosekillermicrofic September 30, word count 739

NSFW

Final part, everyone. Just wanted to say thank you so much to everyone who has read this little series over the last few months, I enjoyed writing it so much. I will be putting it up on Ao3 all together if anyone wants to read it all through again. Thank you all again for reading. Love you. Lulu xxx

Previous part First Jegulus part

Evan didn’t even give him a chance to get his shoes off before he was slamming him against the closed door and devouring his mouth.

“You. Bed. Now!” Evan growled at him between kisses. Barty obeyed entirely. 

The leather cuffs were already attached to the bed. He wondered when Evan had done that because those were the special ones. Normally, they had the soft ones attached all the time. It must have been right before they left because they definitely hadn’t been there when he’d got changed. 

He quickly stripped out of his clothes, tossed them in the corner out of the way and got onto the bed. Evan straddled him, reaching above him and quickly securing the hard leather cuffs around Barty’s wrists. He tugged at the cuffs, a bolt of pleasure shot right to Barty’s cock, making him tug again. Evan moved down Barty’s body, biting marks into his skin as he went, all the way down to his ankles, where he looped the matching ankle cuffs up from under the bed. Barty gasped, Evan wasn’t messing around; he’d come to play, and Barty couldn’t be more ready. 

Finished restraining Barty, Evan went over to the bottom drawer of their dresser and pulled it open. He took out the toys he wanted and returned to the bed, laying them out neatly between Barty’s stretched legs. 

His cock was fully erect at this point, just seeing Evan’s blown pupils had him nearly cuming. Evan noticed and teasingly slowly pushed the cock ring down Barty’s engorged cock. Barty flung his head back and moaned as the ring bit into his skin, the near orgasm fading away. Evan must want him to last awhile if he’d put that on. Barty tried to calm his racing heart, but then Evan opened the bottle of lube, and he was yanking at his bonds, needing to be touched immediately. “Tut, tut, darling. You know the rules. Patience or nothing happens,” Evan chided. Barty huffed like a spoilt brat but spent a moment collecting himself. “Good boy,” Evan crooned and slipped a lube-covered finger inside him. 

Barty let his thoughts wander, trying to take his mind off the insanely good feeling of Evan’s fingers deep inside him. He thought of Regulus and how happy that spiky little git was with his sunshine boyfriend. He still found it insane that he and Sirius were now almost friends, and that boyfriend of his, damn, he was something else. Barty’s cock twitched, and he quickly turned his thoughts to James’s parents and how, after barely meeting them for five minutes, they’d dragged them into their patchwork family, and Barty absolutely loved it. Plus, he got that shiny van out of it, not that it was a dealbreaker or anything. He couldn’t wait to go out in it again. And to think none of this would have happened, including Regulus finally getting out of that damn house, if Regulus hadn't thrown his apple core at James before falling out of a tree—

“Barty!” Evan snapped. 

“Huh? Oh, sorry, I was miles away,” Barty admitted sheepishly. 

“Am I boring you?” Evan asked, a brow arching upwards.

“No, no, the opposite, actually, I was trying not to cum, sorry,” Evan snorted. 

“Alright, I’ll forgive you,” He said, leaning forward and kissing Barty, nipping his bottom lip hard. The second Barty gasped, Evan removed his fingers and pushed himself inside. Barty let out a truly dirty moan. He and Evan just fit together so well. He looked up at the man he loved with all his heart as he began to move in and out of him and felt his chest bursting with adoration. 

“Marry me,” He blurted out as Evan thrust back into him. Evan stilled. 

“What?!” He asked, shock covering his face. 

“Evan, will you marry me?” Barty repeated, lifting himself off the bed as much as his restraints would let him. Evan’s eyes widened as his breath hitched. 

“Yes. Yes, Barty Crouch, I will marry you,” Evan sobbed as tears fell from his eyes. He reached up and released the cuffs around Barty’s wrists, and Barty wrapped his arms around him. Holding him against his chest. The one person he could always rely on. His Evan. 

“I love you,” He murmured. 

“I love you too,” Evan said, wiping the tears from his eyes. 

The sex turned into something softer, unhurried as they made love long into the night.   

[crescenthistory]

21. (During a passionate session, A accidentally draws blood while gripping B’s back (A apologizes over and over while tending to B, who just has a shit-eating grin the whole time)) with barty n reader pls

(may I be 🪳 anon?)

hi lovely 🪳 anon, finally i got around to your request<33 i made them have an established relationship because i craved bf!barty, hope it still scratches your itch hihi. enjoy your daily dose of barty!

Prompt: 21. During a passionate session, A accidentally draws blood while gripping B’s back (A apologizes over and over while tending to B, who just has a shit-eating grin the whole time) from this list

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: not proofread, smut (mdni), vaguely described smut, fem!reader, sexual jokes, aftercare, accidental blood kink, scratching, established relationship, praise kink, multiple orgasms, soft!barty, barty is a masochist, reader almost cries, cursing, reader is (jokingly) mean to him and he loves it, the l word is said a lot

Note: i am so soft for this man

If there was one way to describe your relationship with one Barty Crouch Junior, it is all encompassing.

Intoxicating, larger than life, obsessive.

He was not one to act half-heartedly in any regard, to both your chagrin and infatuation. It was not half-hearted when he more or less picked you out of the crowd in your first year, claiming you as his best friend without giving you time to react, dragging you by the hand into the whirlwind of his life. It was not half-hearted when he chased off any romantic prospect for you because they were not good enough for you, Treasure, even landing some in the infirmary if they dared hurt your feelings. It was not half-hearted when he finally crumbled under the weight of his own feelings, consequences be damned, and brought his lips to yours in the abandoned Slytherin common room late at night.

And it certainly was not half-hearted how he claimed you, body and soul, ever since whenever ample opportunity arose. 

You had no complaints about that aspect of it.

Which is how your skin was shimmery with a light layer of sweat with Barty’s lazy, toothy kisses lathered all over your neck as he worked into you in the solitude of his dorm. Evenings when you could stay over, the other boys were quickly kicked out by Barty, though to no significant inconvenience for them, as Regulus was more than happy to sneak away with James and Evan was in the middle of pursuing some hot heated Ravenclaw. In their absence, Barty’s presence easily dominated the room, hands roving all over your body as his whispers of worship filled your ears and anything other than him became completely erased from your mind.

Your legs trembled where they had him in a death grip as his skillful ministrations and attentive thumb brought you towards your fourth climax of the night. His name spilled over your lips along with a string of curses as your eyes clamped shut. You could feel his smile through his kisses as he worked beautiful marks onto your shoulders – just far enough down to be shielded from view in your uniform, your shared little secret.

“Fuck, such beautiful sounds from my best girl,” Barty’s voice was hoarse from the past hours, which somehow just drove you crazier for him. “Are you gonna come for me, gorgeous? Let go for me?”

No coherent thoughts could be strung together, your mind going blank with just Barty coursing through it. Instead you moaned prettily in a way that made Barty groan and pick up his speed, determined to coax more from you, just a little more.

Your hands had been clinging to his flexing bicep and tugging at his hair, but as your body came undone beneath him, you resorted to clutching onto his shoulders and back instead. Your nails, that you always kept long enough to satisfyingly scratch Barty’s hair and arms, dug into his skin for leverage, and you half-registered the moans of pleasure he gave into the skin of your neck. As your body shook both from your climax and the movements of him against you, your fingers dragged slowly down his back.

“Oh, gods– Barty–” was all you managed to get out as you clambered onto him, seeing stars. You needed him closer, just a little closer, more.

“Love it when you say my name, Treasure,” he whispered into you as his hips stuttered, finally reaching his own high with a groan. “S’good for me, s’perfect.”

You shakily kiss his shoulder, palms moving to smooth over his back you had just been clawing at, the movement instinctual and dripping with affection. Calming him down, gearing him through his own earth-shattering orgasm.

His movements slowed down, dragging the seconds out, before he finally stilled against you, collapsing with his weight onto you in that way he knew you loved. His hands that had been consuming every piece of flesh, every curve of your body, became almost painfully light now, brushing up your sides, over your arms, a silent thank you. You could read this man without needing to open your eyes or ears.

For a minute you laid there, regaining your breath while also revelling in the smell of him mixed with the haze of sex that filled the room. 

Then, Barty laughed breathily into your shoulder before retreating from his cocoon to look at you with lovesick eyes, propping his weight up onto his elbows.

“That was one for the history books.” His grin was lopsided, sweat still over his eyebrow.

You laughed in turn, giving him a slight roll of your eyes, but you couldn’t disagree. The longer you were together, the more you learned of each other, the more passionate your frequent trysts became. You didn’t think you could love him more.

Still – “You’re deranged, Junior,” you said through a laugh – you couldn’t let the opportunity to tease him slide.

Unfazed, Barty leaned down to press a lazy kiss to your lips and despite your teasing you had no inhibition with kissing him back, passionate and slow. “Maybe,” he said between kisses. “But you love me all the more for it. And I love you too.”

You mumbled an I love you, silly against his lips and you could feel him grin against you. 

All too soon, Barty pulled back and away from you, rolling off your body to reach for his wand on the bedside table to clean the both of you – and the sheets – up. You gazed after him with a look you knew your friends would never let you live down if they were here to see it, studying his features as he laid on his stomach, stretching his arm out. One of his legs were still tangled with yours, as if he couldn’t stand being completely without your touch. The muscles in his bicep flexed deliciously, as did the ripples across his shoulders and back, and –

“Merlin’s tits, Barty, your back!” you exclaimed, instantly snapping out of your daze.

It was normal for you both to be quite marked up after being with each other, especially on nights like this where you could truly take your time. Your hips often had some beautiful bruises grazing its sides, hickies covering your chest and collarbone, sometimes your neck if Barty felt particularly possessive. In turn, you loved giving him your own love bites and his shoulders and biceps often had small indents from your nails digging into them.

But this– Your eyes roved over Barty’s back, the usual pink streaks of teased skin that you left there were now bright red and razor thin, blood piping out at random places. There were many of them, trailing over and around each other, a bloody, angry constellation of your desperation from mere minutes ago.

At your outburst, Barty looked at you over his shoulder with a smug smirk, fingers finally curling around his wand. “What of my back?”

“I– it’s–” you sputtered, one hand wildly gesturing towards him, the other half-covering your mouth as you sat up to get a better view. “You’re bleeding, darling I’m so sorry.”

Barty sat up to match you, grabbing you by your thighs to drag you closer to him. A stupid grin was still plastered over his face. 

“Oh, I know,” he smiled. “It was so fucking hot.”

His words didn’t register with you as you kept fussing over him, attempting to sit at his side so you could see his wounds and his face all at the same time. His hand on your thigh squeezed as he continued to laugh silently.

“You’re bleeding.” You repeated, letting your finger ghost over the skin right beside a particularly bloody scratch. "Gods, I'm so sorry." Your eyes began to sting as they flitted all over his back, and at that Barty seemed to snap out of his humour.

“Hey, Treasure, hey.” He grabbed your hands with his, forcing you to look at him. “It’s fine, love, don’t worry. It’s more than fine actually, I liked it – loved it even. You should really make me bleed more often.”

You stared at him incredulously, as if he was being particularly stupid, eyes still slightly glossy with tears. “What?”

He laughed even more at your confusion, which almost shifted the apologies on the tip of your tongue into scolding. 

“As I said, it was hot. I knew you were drawing blood as you were doing it – didn’t you hear how much I loved it?” His tone was teasing, mischief evident on his face.

You opened and closed your mouth at that, trying to make your post-orgasm brain keep up with the conversation. “I actually didn’t hear anything by that point,” you mumbled, looking between your hands clutched with his and his face, which now looked impossibly more smug.

“Right, that’s on me then,” he teased. You pretended to lightly shove him, but he used your movement against you, trapping you in his arms and dragging you closer to his body.

“You’re so stupid, you know that?” 

“Was I stupid when I made you come once on my fingers, once on my tongue and twice on my–”

You pinched him, making him yelp in a voice so light it made the both of you laugh. You squeezed him in your arms, careful not to let your hands touch his still bleeding back.

“I still wanna say sorry.” You pulled back to look at him. The threat of tears were gone, but your lower lip jutted out ever so slightly, enough that he simply had to kiss it better. So he did, lips softly brushing yours in a way that calmed you down every time.

“Well, don’t,” he murmured against your lips. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, darling. I actually give you blanket consent to please make me bleed again next time. However you want.” He winked at you and you lightly swatted at his arm, though you couldn’t ignore how your blood warmed at his words.

“Shut up,” you mumbled before kissing him again. Your tone made it clear to Barty that he won that conversation.

“As much as I’d love to keep kissing you.” Barty pulled his lips away from yours, holding your face in between his palms. “Can I please clean us up like I wanted, now?”

You simply nodded, leaning back onto your elbows beside him as he quickly flicked his wand over your bodies and the bed. A sigh escaped your lips at the warm feeling across your thighs and stomach, as if somebody had carefully dragged a warm towel over you and immediately dried you off. Barty smiled at you softly when he heard your sounds of comfort.

You reached out to take the wand from his hands and moved to point it towards his back when he snapped out of staring at you and caught the tip of the wand with his hand before you had the time to use it. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You looked at him confused. “Cleaning you up?”

“I already did that,” he retorted. 

“I meant the cuts, Barty.”

He immediately shook his head at that, prying the wand from your fingers – his wand, that wouldn’t even have been as effective when you used it – and giving you an almost offended look. “Nope. They’re staying, if I wanted them gone I would have healed them.”

“Barty–” you began to chide, but he cut you off.

“I want to keep them, Treasure. Little reminder of you. We don’t heal the hickies I give you, hm?” His voice was equal parts teasing and affectionate now, as if your scratches was something precious to him.

“My hickies aren’t painful and bleeding.” You deadpanned at him. He just shrugged, as if your point was entirely irrelevant. 

“You’ll stain the sheets with your blood,” you tried then. 

“How unfortunate that I’m not a wizard who can remove blood stains without any effort.” He tauntingly waved the wand in your face then before leaning over to place it back on his nightstand.

You just groaned at him, hoping he knew that it meant you are insufferable and impossible. He did, and it warmed his heart.

“C’mon, Treasure,” he drawled as he snuck back up beside you, pulling the duvet around the two of you, creating your own perfect cocoon. “You should be flattered, if anything.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but still pulled him further into your arms, limbs entangling and bare chests pressed against each other. A relaxed sigh escaped you, indicating that you were in no way actually indignant. 

“Just don’t want you to be in pain, B.” Your hand moved up to play with his hair, culprits lightly scratching at the nape of his neck.

Barty’s eyes softened at that and he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “‘S not painful, love, I’m good. I’m all good.” His words were whispered against your skin. You closed your eyes at the sensation, the safety of it all.

“You sure?”

“I swear it.”

You hummed, relenting, and finally buried your face in his neck as he pulled you closer. Sporadic kisses were pressed into your hair, your shoulder, as you continued with your soft conversation filled with praises and small declarations of love. You didn’t notice you were beginning to slip away before your breath slowed against Barty’s skin and he glanced down, smiling when he saw your sleeping form. His fingers drawing patterns on your back spelled out I love you as he kissed your forehead, lips lingering on your skin.

“Goodnight, my love.”