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sivyera · 4 months ago

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nsfw headcanons and kinks of harry potter characters

ft. harry, ron, cedric, fred, george, draco, blaise, theodore, tom, hermione, pansy

a/n: well there is obviously a lot of SMUT, also it's a female reader

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⤷ Harry - lingerie

harry for sure loves when you wear some nice pair of lingerie, he finds it so hot when the nice lace hugs your body so perfectly. every time when he's out, he looks for some new pair of lingerie that he would buy you. oh yeah he buys you every single pair but one time, you surprised him on his b-day with red pair of lingerie (like gryffindor theme lingerie) and he was hard within seconds.

"oh- oh my fucking god, you look amazing sweetheart. do a spin for me please- slowly, i wanna see how pretty you look in this" harry hummed while he sat on his bed with you slowly turning in front of him. he could feel his hard dick pressing against his pants, pre-cum already making his boxers dirty. he brushed his hand over his erection before he hummed again. "come closer baby, i wanna touch you..."

⤷ Ron - body worship

ron was very unexperienced at the start, you were basically his first everything, first girlfriend, first kiss, first lover. so when was the first time you two had sex, he was just so mesmerized by your whole body that he had to watch himself for not cumming into his pants just from the sight of your naked body. you are gorgeous in his eyes, more than that! from that time it kinda sticked with him, every time you two have sex now, he has to worship you before anything, he wants you to know how beautiful you are on his eyes...

you could feel ron's hands tracing soft patterns over your sides while his eyes were glued to your boobs. "bloody hell, baby you are so beautiful.. " he mumbled while he moved his big palms over your boobs, squeezing them lightly. "i can't belive how lucky i'm to have you, now let me make you feel good." he added before he took off your panties and kissed his way down to your pretty cunt.

⤷ Cedric - praise kink

cedric is overall very vocal when you two have sex, he either growls, hums, groans, breaths heavily or he's mumbling praises to you. he really cannot help himself when he sees you all spread under him; your legs wrapped around him, your hands scratching his back while he holds your hips and is thrusting into you, mercilessly. he always makes sure that you can hear him properly so he usually leans closer to you, brushing his lips over your ear in soft kisses, whispering praise right into your ear.

"you're doing so good princess, taking all of me like this..." he whispers into your ear, his hips are crushing against yours, his dick hitting every right spot while you're a moaning mess under him. "you feel so good, i can't get enough of you, my sweet girl.." he groans again into your ear while his tempo isn't slowing down.

⤷ Fred - public sex

fred is thrilled with the idea of getting caught, it's the adrenaline and the possessivness from him screaming, i mean he wants people to know that you're his, that you chose him and that only HE makes you feel this good. so you two usually have sex somewhere around hogwarts. empty classroom, broom closet, empty gryffindor common room, bathroom, you name it.

"shh baby, be quiet you don't want anybody to catch us, do you?" he smirks while he has you seated on a desk in empty potion class. both of you are skipping class so it's pretty quiet outside on the hallways, anyone who will walk past can hear you. he doesn't care how loud you are because he doesn't care if you two get caught, he just wants to tease you. even tho you try to be quiet, you can't help yourself and moan again. "naughty girl yeah, let everybody know how good i make you feel..."

⤷ George - orgasm denial

george loves the face you make when he pushes you to the edge but just seconds before you're about to cum, he slows down his moves or stops completely, kissing your skin instead. he also loves teasing you but the way you get all pouty and squeeze around him when he denies you your orgasm is just something he can never get tired of. but eventually he'll let you cum and it's always the best orgasm ever.

he was thrusting into you in the perfect rhythm when you felt the familiar knot forming inside your belly, but just when the knot was about to release, he stopped. instead he immediately pressed his lips against your chest, kissing you around your boobs. "i know baby, i know... i'll give you what you want but god- when you squeeze around me like this, i can't help myself."

⤷ Draco - daddy kink

draco has big daddy issues so many of you could say that he'd hate being called daddy but he actually loves it. it makes him feel good, powerful and in control which he never was while being back home so... when you started calling him like this, he didn't let you stop. he sees you as his blessing and he wants to protect you with everything he has, like a good daddy should protect his precious baby.

"you're such a good girl for daddy, princess..." draco huffed while he was buried deep inside you. his hands were pressing your knees to your chest which made you ass go little up, letting him hit the perfect spot inside you. "yes, tell me who's your daddy? mhmf-..." he continues while you're mumbling under him. he loves when those sweet words leave your pretty mouth, it almost always makes him cum in seconds.

⤷ Blaise - bondage

blaise loves seeing how your flesh presses under the bondage, making your thighs and boobs look even more soft and squishy than they already are. he either bondages your whole body or only ankles and wrists so you can't move, but he loves both equaly. he always takes his time when he's wrapping the rope around your body but he also always makes sure that everything he does is comfortable to you, it could be dangerous for you and he doesn't wanna hurt you.

"you feelin' good, babe?" he speaks while his long fingers are brushing over your inner thighs, his eyes basically glued to the plush of them. he could feel his hard dick twitching in his boxers, leaving a small wet mark over the fabric so he quickly strokes himself before he continues. "you look so pretty like this, all just for me... take a deep breath, babe, just like this..."

⤷ Theodore - deep throat

there is nothing more theo loves more than when you are on your knees, your glassy looking up at him with tears falling down your cheeks while he hears how you are gagging on his dick. he doesn't care if you have good or bad gagging reflex, you can take it for him. if it's very serious and you just have to take a quick pause, he'll let you rest for like 30s before pushing you down on his dick again, this time little deeper than before. and when you let him cum into your mouth, you got yourself "bonus" orgasm.

"ngh- fuck baby-... your tongue feels so good around me, mhmm..." he hums while his head falls down between his shoulder blades with his fingers being tangled in your hair, pushing your head lower on his dick. his groans and moans are non-stopping while he can feel himself getting closer and closer. when he looks down at you and sees your pretty, bambi eyes already staring at him, he can feel himself cum. "oh dio-... now swallow for me, amore."

⤷ Tom - choking

choking makes feel tom in control, in control of your life while he brings you the best pleasure of your life. he can feel your pulse point under his thumb while you make this incredibly fuckable face, it drives him wild and incredibly horny. he can feel your heartbeat while he also makes you feel so good, it makes him feel powerful and he's hungry for power, any kind of power. but he'd never let you pass out, that's a big no for him.

he thrusted inside and out of you, mercilessly, while he had his hand firmly wrapped around you neck, perfectly feeling how was your heart beating through your pulse point. "oh are you about to cum? yeah, cum for me, my love..." he growled when his grip got tighter, making your eyes close in pleasure. you were still moaning under him which made him go little faster. with all of this, he came as well.

⤷ Hermione - thigh riding

hermione loves when she can multitask, it's somehow comforting to her. so one time when you found her in the library, learning for some up coming test, writing into her books; you sat on her thigh, wanting to distract her, she was hooked. she loved the feeling of you on her thigh, pleasuring yourself while she could write some notes into her textbook. from that time, she loved it and she often pulls you onto her lap with her thigh in perfect position for your pussy.

she wrote the last words into her book before her hands grabbed your hips, making you move faster, making your pussy spread over her thigh. "mhm you feel good like this? yes, you do? oh i know... come on, little faster." she mumbled into your ear, kissing you all the way down to your neck while her nails dug into your soft hips making you moan.

⤷ Pansy - face-sitting

pansy is literally obsessed with your pussy and all the noises you make when her tongue is buried deep inside you. she loves to explore all your folds because every time her tongue presses against a new spot, you squeeze your thighs around her head which makes her rub her thighs against each other. her eyes are glued on you the whole time while she presses her nose against your clit.

"mhmh come on-..." she quickly mumbles before she pushes your hips more onto her mouth while her tongue pushes deep inside you. her hands helped your hips slowly move back and forth while her tongue was licking each of your folds, swallowing each of your juice that she got on her tongue. your moans filled her ears and she could see you were getting closer which made her tongue work even faster.

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ophelialoveshandsomemen · 11 months ago

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Say what you will about Van Helsing 2004; hate it, love it, be indifferent, But the All-Hallow's masquerade ball went sooooo hard and it had zero right to do so! It's a fun, campy, monster mash movie with wonderfully dated ( and expensive) cgi and non-stop action meant to be a popcorn flick one takes out to watch around spooky season. And it has this* chef's kiss* GORGEOUS 6 minute sequence plopped arbitrarily in the second act, which unexpectedly surpasses nearly every other ball in the last 30+ years of film( notable exception being the Cinderella 2015 ball) for literally no reason other than to be dramatic af.

Like feast your eyes on this Gothic masterpiece!!! Who doesn't want to immediately live in this picture?!??

They used those candles with oil in them so that they would have real candles, real string orchestra( I believe), probably around 100 real life extras( something which is tragically absent in modern film), said extras are all in beautiful fully decked-out costumes( which are in luxuriously dark colours, but nearly no fully black, another thing you cannot say for much modern cinema), REAL CIRQUE DU SOLEIL PERFORMERS for all the acrobatics!!!! Hell, instead of filming in a sound stage, where they could control the reverb and the acoustics and the size of the set and the bloody lighting ( they apparently had a heck of a time emulating the firelight for this sequence) and the temperature( it's very cold in stone churches!) better, they filmed in a Baroque church in Prague! As I said, peak dramatic splendour, jfc...

Think about that a second...They filmed a vampire masquerade in a Baroque Catholic Church( St. Nicholas' in Lesser Town, if you were curious) with amazing over-the-top acoustics and marble statues and real, tiled floors and marble pillars and a choir loft which they very much utilized, covered the pipe organ and the altar with a grand brocade curtain so it wouldn't be so obviously a, you know, a church! And there's a gold gilt elevated and canopied pulpit into which they put two vampire kiddies for, again, the sake of being dramatic.

And the costumes! They remind me of the 25th anniversary Phantom of the Opera Masquerade costumes. Same quality, like they're old, well-cared-for costumes pulled out of a warehouse, instead of fast industry churn-outs. With lots of trim and colour and masks and lace and feathers and..just...ugh.. they are all perfect! Just look at all the head pieces on the ladies and the hats on all the gentleman ( save Dracula of course) and the powdered wigs on the musicians. ANNNNDD! The dresses are historically correct!!!!!! It's the 80's bustle era! Nobody does the 80's bustle era in film anymore and it's a bummer. Oh and one other thing! Anna's ( and other women's) hair, at least here in the ball, is also historically accurate because it's all pinned up! None of those fucken modern beachwaves at a ball! Everybody's got updo's!

Gah, I swear, Dracula in his gold cloak really does things to me in this scene!

By the way, the acrobatics are bonkers in here for just background stuff!! Especially the random guys on unicycles and the dude playing the violin whilst standing on a ball...Like....WHAT?

Anyways, all this to say, that this masquerade ball feels sooo real and tangible and because of that it blows every other film out of the water, and no, I will not change my mind!!!!!

Here's a few more gifs, bcuz, why the hell not, this scene is sexy as fuu*ck?

Alright I need to go to bed now.

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aigoos · 8 months ago

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Bailkin Art

AHHH! @kana7o drew this fantastic Bailkin art for me!!! As much as I love Obikin, Bailkin is becoming another favourite of mine. Guess Anakin with older bearded men are a thing for me XD Seriously, though, I just love the idea of this pairing. Especially when Bail is a Chancellor (begone, you evil Palps!) and has Anakin as his personal Jedi guard, ahaha!

But back to the art -- I love this so much. Blushy Anakin with such a regal looking Bail is a delicious flavour. I definitely need more Bailkin in my life!

#bailkin #bail organa #fanart #commission #kana7o is bloody amazing #bailkin needs more love #blushy anakin and regal bail for life #palps is long gone from my bailkin universe so may he rot in hell #anakin skywalker #anibail #bailani

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assortedseaglass · 1 year ago

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Jesus Christ. Michael, you dirty prick.

I don’t want to spoil it but from halfway onwards my heart was pounding.

I’ll read your Michael Gavey fics forever, Ange! 👏

Stuck On You

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dark themes, slut shaming, obsessive behaviour, smut. Word count: ~6k

Summary: When her email is hacked and racy photos she'd sent to her boyfriend find their way onto Myspace, she becomes the social pariah of Oxford University. She turns to the only person she believes is intelligent enough to be able to help; Michael Gavey. Could uncovering the truth of the situation make things worse than they already are?

Author's note: Written to celebrate one year of my blog existing. Sorry for the delay. Crumbageddon beat the shit out of me. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“Using a painting of that former duchess as a conversation piece, he describes what he saw as her unfaithfulness, frivolity, and stubbornness, and implies that he prefers her as a painting rather than as a…as a living woman,” her voice shakes, stumbling over her words, watching as her essay papers slip from her hands, fluttering towards the rug of the study.

“Sh-shit…I’m sorry,” she stammers, leaning down to snatch them back up, feeling her skin heat up with embarrassment as she attempts to rustle them back into order.

“Everything alright?” Professor Ware asks, shifting in his seat and clasping his hands in his lap.

“Distracted by her own portrait, I should imagine,” snarks Farleigh, cutting her off before she has a chance to reply.

He smirks up at her, before returning his focus to the screen of his Macbook, fingers tapping quickly across the keys as he sits on the floor with it in his lap, leaning back against the armchair she currently sits in, his legs crossed at the ankle.

Of course he’d left it until the last minute to do his essay. Lazy prick.

“Stop it,” she hisses, knocking his shoulder with her knee.

“Why? It’s up again already anyway,” he retorts with a casual shrug, not bothering to look at her this time.

Her blood runs ice cold, dread gnawing a pit in her stomach. That would be the fourth time this week.

“Where?!” She demands, leaning down to snatch Farleigh’s Macbook from him, ignoring his protestation of “hey!” as she clicks on the minimised Internet Explorer window to see her Myspace profile already open.

Just as he’d said, there she is. Her profile picture depicts her in a lacy two piece lingerie set, laying on her bed, her cleavage, stomach and thighs on full display. She’d thought the angle flattering when she’d first held the digital camera above herself and snapped the picture, but now it’s splashed all over the internet for everyone to see. It makes her feel sick.

“I have to go,” she says hurriedly, shoving Farleigh’s Macbook back into his lap and stuffing her essay papers into her bag.

She almost trips over Farleigh’s long legs in her rush to escape the tutorial room, the air suddenly feeling too thick and difficult to breathe, as her heart hammers in her chest. Her feet carry her down the hallway in quick strides, no particular direction in mind, just eager to get away.

It had all seemed like innocent fun at first. She had felt excited on the second day of Fresher’s Week when a group of girls from the floor of her accommodation had invited her to go shopping with them

They had wrinkled their noses as she had beelined for the Ann Summers in Westgate Shopping Centre, lured by the big, red sale banner in the window.

“Oh darling,” India had cooed, “don’t buy that rubbish. We’ll get the train into London and take you to Rigby and Peller in Mayfair, if it’s lingerie you’re after.”

She had balked inwardly at the thought of how expensive that would be, but had simply smiled politely, stating “this is fine”, more than happy with the matching black lace set she’d picked from the sale rail.

Back in her room, she’d tried it on, loving the way the material hugged her curves and felt against her skin. Excitedly, she’d dug out her digital camera, contorting herself into various poses that she felt best displayed her assets, until she was satisfied she had several that looked good.

She hadn’t seen her boyfriend, Jake, since she had left for Oxford and he had gone to Brighton. Their reading weeks didn’t align, which meant they’d have to wait until the term came to an end to see each other at Christmas.

Emailing him the photos had felt like a nice way for them to maintain some sort of intimacy, despite the distance, and he’d certainly appreciated it, as a couple of hours later she’d gotten a text from him which simply said “wow!”

The high from that had left her with a smile on her face for days, until she’d stepped out of a tutorial a few days later to see a missed call and a text from him.

“What the fuck are you playing at?!” It had read.

She’d called him back straight away, the urge to vomit growing acrid in her throat as he’d told her what he’d seen, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she’d scrambled with shaking hands to free her laptop from her bag, to confirm what Jake was saying.

There it was. Her Myspace profile picture had been changed to one of the lingerie photos she’d sent to him. This one was a full length photo she’d taken, aiming the camera at the mirror in her room.

The hot prickle of tears had burned beneath her eyelids, as she’d drawn in a shaky breath. “Wh-why would you do that?” She’d whispered tearfully into the phone.

“It wasn’t me!” Jake had snapped angrily. “Perhaps if you hadn't taken those bloody photos in the first place then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Are you seriously blaming me?!”

“It just looks bad. I think maybe we should cool things for a bit, I can’t with be someone that—”

Tears had rolled down her cheeks as she’d pulled the phone away from her ear, seeing the call had cut off. She’d run out of credit. In a way, she was grateful; she didn’t want to listen to Jake ending their relationship, to continue to blame her for something that wasn’t her fault.

She had taken the photo down, changed her profile picture back to what it was before, and changed the password for both Myspace and her email. However, the damage was done, the whispers of “slut” as she walked to lectures had already started.

Another two days later she had entered the IT lab to print out her essay, and saw a group huddled around a computer, laughing together. They had turned, immediately quietening down, their voices hushed whispers as they looked at her.

She had pushed them apart, already knowing what it was they were all looking at, but wanting to confirm it. Just as she’d suspected, her Myspace profile was open. This time her photo had been changed to an over the shoulder shot. The side of her face and her buttocks visible as she’d arched her back.

Running back to her room, tears of humiliation blurring her vision, she’d taken the photo down again and changed all her passwords. But once again, it was too little, too late. A print out of the photo slipped beneath her door that same day, with the word “whore” scrawled across it.

Her friends were already starting to pull away, the invites to the pub had dried up into nothing. When another photo had been uploaded, Felix had pulled her to one side.

“Look, I think it’s incredibly daring of you to be doing what you’re doing, and I respect the fuck out of you for it, really I do,” he’d said, eyes filled with sympathy as he’d looked down at her. “But a few of us really aren’t comfortable with how you’re going about…getting attention, so I just think it’s for the best if we take some space until you’ve figured out whatever this is.”

She had been stunned by his words, her eyes going wide as her mouth had dropped open. “You think I’m doing this to myself?!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to think? We’re worried about you. There are better…healthier ways to make yourself stand out. Just come clean and all of this can stop.”

Turning away in disgust, anger and betrayal flaring white hot in her chest, she’d walked away. This was happening to her, she wasn’t complicit in it, and yet people continued to act like it was her fault. She had started to wonder if she really was to blame. Had she tempted fate by taking those photos in the first place?

Today was the fourth time a photo had been uploaded and having fled from the tutorial with Professor Ware and Farleigh, she finds herself in the Bodleian Library, having walked on instinct.

It serves as a quiet refuge for her in moments when she feels overwhelmed, hiding among the shelves, admiring tomes that are older than she is. She’d come here on her first day, when the influx of new people, sights and sounds had become too much, and she had crouched between the stacks the first time one of her photos had been leaked. The smell of old books and the peace and quiet feels safe.

Walking silently between the study tables she spots him, alone, as he always is; Michael Gavey. He is hunched over a notebook, scribbling furious notes, stopping occasionally to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

She had thoroughly embarrassed herself the first time she’d met him, the only time she had ever spoken to him. It had been the night of the fresher’s welcome dinner. She’d heard his outburst in the dining hall, heard how he had answered the subsequent multiplication sum flawlessly and been bowled over by how effortlessly brilliant he was. It was intimidating.

Yet, later that evening fuelled by the courage of five tropical watermelon flavoured Bacardi Breezers, she’d stumbled over to him in the rec room, ignoring how he’d recoiled slightly at her advancing towards him.

She’d wrapped an arm around his neck, taking no notice of the way he’d stiffened beneath her touch.

“Wha’s nine hundred and ninety nine divided by thirteen?” She’d slurred into his ear.

He had bristled slightly, before answering quietly. “Seventy six point eight five.”

She had giggled, patting his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. “Don’t even know how to check that, but I’ll take your word for it, genius.”

Kissing his cheek, she’d stumbled away, leaving him to wipe away the sticky residue her lips had left behind, while Felix and Farleigh had fallen about themselves, laughing, finding it far funnier than she’d intended for it to be. She had ended up making him a laughing stock without even meaning to.

The memory fills her with shame. She really did find him impressive. He was precisely the type of person she had wanted to rub shoulders with when she arrived at Oxford, yet she had made a fool of herself instead.

She smiled at him whenever she caught his eye on the rare occasions they crossed paths, but he’d either look away or stare at her expressionless.

Perhaps now was her opportunity to make amends. She has no friends now anyway, so it’s not as though she has anything to lose.

Walking over to his table, before she has a chance to talk herself out of it, she sits down heavily in the seat next to him, depositing her bag onto the tabletop.

Michael’s pen pauses its movements, and slowly his head turns to the side, narrowing his eyes at her in silent question.

She suddenly has the urge to run, realising this was a terrible idea. She feels enormous discomfort beneath the scrutiny of his gaze yet, determined to push through it, she offers him a bright smile.

“You’re Michael, aren’t you?” She says, attempting to sound more cheerful than she feels.

“Yes,” he replies simply, placing his pen down and straightening in his seat.

“Thought so. I’m–”

“I know who you are,” he cuts her off. “What do you want?”

“Oh,” she swallows, shifting awkwardly in her seat. She hadn’t anticipated him being quite so blunt. “Well, I wanted to apologise for how I behaved on the first night. I thought maybe we could be friends?”

He scoffs, the corners of his mouth turning up into the faintest of smirks. “As if I’d be friends with someone who’s reading literature. Why pay all that money in tuition fees for a glorified book club?”

For a moment she doesn’t know what to say. Shock, offense and hurt swirl in a hot mixture in her chest. She fights the embarrassing urge to burst into tears. Her voice is small and weak when she finally asks “How do you know what I’m studying?”

Michael nods towards the desk. “There’s a book of Robert Browning poetry sticking out of your bag.”

“Right, yeah…” She feels her skin heat up, turning to slowly tuck the book further down inside, still able to feel his eyes upon her. It’s disconcerting to be observed so closely.

“Where’s that group of losers you usually hang around with anyway?”

The question takes her by surprise, and she laughs softly, though there is no real humour to it. “I don’t think they want to hang around with me anymore.”

“So you’re a Norman no mates too then?”

His expression has softened, a slight playfulness brightens his blue eyes as she looks back at him, and she can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin up on his hand. “Hmmm. So they got bored of you then?”

“No…I–”

She sighs exasperatedly, running a hand through her hair, before digging through her bag to pull out her laptop. “It’s probably easier if I show you.”

Setting the laptop down on the table, she loads her Myspace page, the same picture she’d seen on Farleigh’s Macbook earlier still set as her profile photo. “Someone keeps changing my profile picture to this. I sent my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend…some photos and now someone has them and keeps doing this every time I change it back.”

Michael’s expression is impassive as he stares at the screen. “Have you changed your passwords?”

“Yes,” she sighs.

“So, you’ve been hacked.”

“Looks that way…I don’t suppose you know anything about computers? Maybe you could help me figure out who’s doing this?”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, staring intently at her, “so there it is, pretending to befriend the college nerd because you need computer help. Do you not think it’s a bit of a tired stereotype to assume that because I’m reading maths I’d be able to help you with your IT issues?”

“No, it’s not like that!” She protests, her eyes welling up with tears. She turns away, defeated, deciding this is a lost cause and closes her laptop. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

He sighs. “Well, there’s no need to cry about it. I can help you, just not right now. Are you free later this evening?”

She sniffles, her eyes going wide as she looks at him in surprise. “Really?”

He nods, closing his notebook and slipping his pen into his breast pocket. “I’ve got a tutorial in twenty minutes, but I can help trace the IP of whoever’s hacked you. I’m on the first floor of the Brasenose, second room left of the staircase. I’ll be back around five.”

Nodding, she immediately feels lighter, the possibility that this may finally come to an end instantly lifting her spirits. A chance to get her life back. “That’s perfect, I’ll see you then. Thank you so much.”

He rises, his gaze remaining fixed upon her. “See you later.”

The way he addresses her, first and last name, sends a shiver down her spine as she watches him turn away and walk slowly out of the library. She wonders what she has gotten herself into, but with no friends and no other options there is little else to be done.

She is filled with restless energy for the rest of the day, unable to sit still or concentrate during the only other lecture she has that afternoon, until eventually she finds herself standing outside of Michael’s room at quarter past five, the hours leading up to that feeling as though they’ve lasted an eternity.

Where there is the faint sound of music or talking coming from the doors she’s passed already on her way here, she is struck by the eerie silence she is met with from his, and wonders for a moment if he’s even home.

Nervous excitement crackles like electricity through her body and her knock is louder than she intends for it to be. She hears shuffling from the other side, until the door swings slowly open. Michael stands poker straight on the threshold, staring down at her.

“Did you bring your laptop?” He asks.

Yet again she is taken aback by how forthright he is, but she nods, stepping in as he moves to the side to let her pass.

Looking around the room, she takes in the plainness of his bedspread, the shelves of mathematics and physics textbooks, the desk set up in the corner that has his laptop open on it. There is nothing that gives even the slightest indication as to who he is as a person.

The sound of him clearing his throat startles her attention back to him, and she turns with an apologetic smile to face him. “Sorry, always weird being in someone else’s room…”

“Right,” he replies, his gaze unwavering as he looks at her. “Laptop?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” embarrassment heats up her skin, as she rummages in her bag, taking it out and handing it to him.

He settles it next to his own on the desk, before taking a seat.

She stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around, not quite knowing what to do with herself. “Um…where should I…?”

“Anywhere,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, not looking at her.

She settles on the edge of the bed, running her hands over the soft cotton of the duvet cover. It’s an odd sensation to sit so casually in the space that she knows he sleeps. It feels too familiar, too intimate.

Glancing to the side, she notices the shimmer of gold and purple in the bin. She smiles to herself, having learned something about him in spite of the lack of personal effects in his room. He has a sweet tooth, evidenced by the Crunchie bar wrappers in the bin.

“Password?” He asks, and her head snaps up towards him.

“Hmm?”

He turns in his chair, resting his arm on the back of it, glaring at her over his shoulder. “The password for your laptop, what is it?”

“Oh!” She exclaims. “Is it safe for me to tell you that?”

“It is if you want me to help you,” he sighs.

She squirms uncomfortably. He has the innate ability to make her feel small, foolish, but what’s most disconcerting is that she doesn’t dislike it, there is something about him that draws her to his condescension.

“It’s Shakespeare,” she tells him sheepishly, “with a four in place of the first A.”

“What about the passwords for your email and Myspace accounts?”

“The same.”

“The same?!”

“I’ve changed the passwords each time a new photo has been posted, but it’s just easier to have the same one for everything.”

He groans, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “No wonder you’ve been hacked, typical fucking liberal arts student.”

She lowers her gaze, fingers plucking nervously at the bedspread. “Different passwords for every account, got it.”

“Well, that’s a start, yes,” he tells her, turning back to the screens. “Has anyone but you had access to your computer?”

“No, it stays in my bag when I’m not using it.”

She sits watching him tap away at the keyboards of both laptops alternately for a few moments before she speaks again. “I’m not stupid, you know,” she tells him, her voice sounding meeker than she means for it to. “English Language and Literature is no less of a respectable course than Mathematics. I wrote an essay on the Robert Browning poem, My Last Duchess, recently. It’s a fascinating piece, focusing on the Duke of Ferrara using a painting of his former wife as a conversation topic. The Duke speaks about his former wife's perceived inadequacies to a representative of the family of his bride-to-be, revealing his obsession with controlling others in the process. Browning uses this compelling psychological portrait of a despicable character to critique the objectification of women and abuses of power. It’s a compelling commentary on social status and elitism.”

“What would you know about either of those things?” He asks, continuing to type.

“More than I’d like to,” she says quietly, “I don’t fit in here, not really. I earned my place with a scholarship.”

He pauses, stiffening, glancing over his shoulder at her with a “hmm”.

“I’ve managed to get into the access logs for both your email and Myspace accounts,” he tells her. “There are two sets of IPs that have accessed both accounts in the last week, but both are eduroam IP addresses.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that whoever is uploading those photos is doing so from the university.”

The revelation hits her like a punch to the gut, she feels paralysed, unable to speak as his words sink in. A part of her had wanted to believe it was Jake. To think there is someone at the university who is doing this to her makes her feel nauseated. Her mind races with the possibilities of who it could be. Felix? India? Farleigh? What reason could any of them possibly have to want to do that to her?

“What should I do?” She asks worriedly, staring at Michael with her brows pinched together. “Do you think reporting it would help?”

He swivels his chair fully around to face her and shakes his head. “Not if you intend to keep your scholarship. Rocking the boat over leaked nudes won’t look good to the university board, they’ll take issue with the fact that you even took those photos in the first place.”

“So I just have to let this keep happening?” She feels her throat tighten, wetness rims her eyes.

“Change your passwords,” he says matter of factly. “A different one for every account.”

She nods, expelling a shaky breath, before standing. “I should probably get going. Thank you…for everything.”

Before she goes to bed that night, she changes her passwords - a different one for every account she owns, and deletes the newest uploaded photo, returning her profile picture to its original state.

As far as she is concerned, that should be the end of it. However, her breath hitches, icy cold fingers of fear gripping her heart when she logs on the following morning. Not only has her profile picture been changed to another photo from the set she’d taken for Jake, but the “about me” section now reads “vapid cunt”.

On autopilot, she dresses, taking her laptop and walking the six minutes from Christ Church Halls to Brasenose College.

As soon as Michael’s door opens, she flings her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. He stiffens, not returning the gesture, until she finally pulls away.

He straighens, adjusting his glasses. His hair is rumpled from sleep, clad in a t-shirt and plaid pyjama bottoms.

“God, I’m so sorry, I woke you up,” she says tearfully, “I should go. I didn’t think, I just–”

“It’s fine,” he says flatly, ushering her in.

She sits down on the bed. It’s unmade, still warm from where he’s been sleeping in it. The feeling sends a shiver down her spine, despite her emotional distress.

Gingerly he sits next to her, keeping a respectable distance as she removes her laptop from her bag and opens it. “It’s happened again. I did everything you said to do, but it’s happened again, and it’s worse this time. Look–”

Handing him the laptop she shuffles closer to him, her thigh pressed against his. She can feel the warmth of him through her leggings. It causes butterflies to flutter in her belly, it’s been so long since she’s been this close to anyone.

Michael doesn’t stiffen at her touch this time, whether it’s because he doesn’t mind it or is too distracted by what he sees on the screen, she’s unsure, but it’s progress.

“Hmm. And you’re sure you changed your passwords?”

“Yes, all of them. I don’t know what else to do. If I report it, I risk my scholarship, but if this carries on I’ll lose it anyway, because how can I concentrate when this keeps happening?”

He says nothing, closing her laptop and passing it back to her.

“I’ve worked my arse off to get here, to earn my place, this can’t be what ends it,” she says miserably, tucking her computer back into her bag.

“I’d suggest focusing on your studies and less on your peers,” Michael says matter of factly. “You haven’t made the best choice of friends since arriving here.”

“They’re not my friends,” she whispers, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “At least not anymore. Do you think it’s one of them doing this?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he replies bitterly, “stay away from them. I’ve got a lecture this morning, but maybe when I’ve got some downtime, I can do a deeper dive, perhaps see if I can track the logins to a device type.”

“You’d do that for me?” She whispers, looking at him with eyes full of appreciation.

“That’s what mates are for, right?”

“Thank you…just…thank you,” she tells him with sincerity, holding his gaze.

She reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, desperate to kiss his cheek as a gesture of her gratitude, but remembers the first time she’d done it and cringes inwardly. Though Michael’s hand doesn’t clutch back, he doesn’t move it away and, after a few moments, she realises they’re simply sitting holding hands, looking into each other's eyes.

He is beautiful in his own way. His stare, though intimidating, is piercingly blue, and his lips are soft and plump. She swallows, lashes fluttering in embarrassment when she realises she’s staring at his mouth.

Chancing her luck, she leans in, planting a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. “I’ll be back at lunchtime, okay?” She whispers, before standing and moving towards the door.

He simply nods, fingers raising to brush over the spot where she’d kissed him. The sight puts a spring in her step for the rest of the morning, almost enough to forget about her being hacked. Almost.

She stops at a vending machine in the rec room on her way back to Brasenose at midday, deciding to buy Michael a Crunchie, an additional thank you for him going out of his way to help her.

As awful as having her privacy violated has been, she is grateful that it has brought her and Michael closer together. She had started the term wanting nothing more than to be his friend, and had royally fucked it up.

Now it seems they have mended their rift, and the prospect of being more than just friends is on the cards. Admittedly, he isn’t her usual type, but there is something about him that excites her. She hopes that once this is all over, this can be a fresh start for her at Oxford; her and Michael, just the caliber of intelligence she had wanted to associate with when she’d first applied.

She knocks at his door, hesitating when he doesn’t open it.

“Michael?” She calls out, brow furrowing in concern when he doesn’t answer.

They’d agreed upon lunchtime to meet, where was he? She tries the door handle and it’s unlocked, gingerly she pushes it open, peering slowly inside. He’s not there, but if he’d left it unlocked then he’d surely be back soon and wouldn’t mind her waiting inside for him.

She steps into the room, finding it much the same as before, only this time the bed is made. Walking over to the window by the desk, she stops to admire the view of the church, startling slightly when her bag knocks the computer chair, disturbing the mouse and taking Michael’s laptop out of sleep.

As she is about to turn back to the window, she notices her Myspace profile is open in edit mode in his browser. She frowns, a feeling of unease washing over her, as she steps towards the desk, her hand trembling as she reaches for the mouse.

She minimises Internet Explorer, gasping when she sees a folder open on his desktop, filled with the photos she had sent to Jake, all of them, even the ones that hadn’t yet been set as her profile picture.

Her heart pounds as she selects all of them, deleting them before clicking on the recycling bin to empty it.

“You didn’t think I’d be stupid enough to not create back ups, did you?”

Turning, she sees that Michael has returned, so quietly she hadn’t noticed. His fingers clutch at the USB stick that’s clipped to his cargo shorts, lips turned up into an expression of smugness.

Tears prickle her eyes, as her heart lurches, the only word that escapes her is “why?” as she looks at him with arched brows, her face pinched into an expression of emotional hurt.

“Why?” He repeats, cocking his head, advancing towards her as she shrinks back into the corner. “Because someone needed to take you down a peg or two.”

“You’ve ruined my life!” She cries, tears slipping down her cheeks, looking at him in disbelief.

This has to be a dream, it is too surreal. Any moment now, she’ll wake up and all of this will have been a terrible dream.

Only it’s not, it’s real, real as the heat of his breath that fans across her face as he looms over her, having backed her fully into the corner between the desk and the window.

“What life? Pretending to play a part with people that don’t really like you? Using your pretentious choice in reading material to make yourself seem intelligent?”

“You don’t know anything about me!” She says defiantly.

“Oh, I know all about you. Hiding your scholarship from those vapid cunts, so they won’t sniff out your working class background and drop you. The variations of John Browning as your password - adding a different number to each variation doesn’t make it a different password, stupid girl.”

“I was nice to you…” She offers feebly, almost pleading with him.

He smirks, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, gripping harshly, forcing her to look at him. “You felt sorry for me. But it’s not me that needs pity, is it? It’s you. Poor little scholarship slut. You love that My Last Duchess poem so much because you see yourself in it, don’t you? Think you’re being objectified, treated unfairly. Well, let me tell you something, you are like that poem, but in the sense that you’re better in pictures than you are in real life.”

“Stop it,” she whispers, trying to pull away from him.

“Truth hurt, does it?” He asks, his grip on her face remaining tight. “That’s a pity. I enjoyed those pictures, really enjoyed them. It’s a shame the real life version is so whiny and pathetic.”

“I’ll report you,” she says quietly.

“Oh, I don’t think you will, somehow. You love the attention,” he tells her, dropping his hand from her chin to her shoulder, turning her and backing her up towards the bed. “I’ve seen how you look at me. If I wanted to fuck you right now, you’d let me.”

“I–I wouldn’t!” She stammers, feeling her face grow warm.

With a gentle shove from him, she topples back against the mattress, and he is quick to move over her, caging her in. “Liar,” he whispers in her ear.

She shudders at the sensation, despising the way her body betrays her, as heat pools between her legs. She shouldn’t be turned on by this, yet she can’t deny the way he sets her pulse racing.

“I haven’t ruined your life, but I could and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” He hisses.

The weight of him on top of her, his warm breath fanning against her neck, it’s dizzying. She wants to tell him to get off of her, to push him away, yet she cannot find it in herself to do so. There is a part of her that’s curious to see how far he’ll push this.

When she doesn’t say anything, he carries on, nimble fingers moving to the waistband of her leggings, tugging them down. “I’m going to treat you like the desperate, little slut that you are, and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

She whines, lifting her hips as he rids her of the bottom half of her clothing.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks.

His gaze falls between her legs, tentative fingers reaching out to brush through the wetness that has gathered there. She sees a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes and wonders if he has ever done this before.

She knows his moment of hesitation would be enough for her to push him away, grab her clothes and report him, yet she feels compelled to stay. If this is his first time, then she wants it to be her. She enjoys the dynamic of the power he has over her, while simultaneously being able to take something from him.

Wanting to bolster his confidence, urge him to continue, she sits up, eager hands unfastening his belt and unzipping his shorts. It flips a switch inside him, and he’s surging forward once more, pinning her beneath him as he pushes his boxers down just enough to free his cock.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps against the shell of her ear.

“I want this,” she mewls desperately, feeling the head of him resting at her entrance.

“You’re going to keep letting me do this to you, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll wear that tarty underwear from your photos for me, won’t you?”

“...yes.”

He presses forward and is met with resistance, not having fully prepared her. He draws back and pushes against her again, repeating the motion until he’s fully sheathed inside of her. It’s exquisite torture, a pleasurable hurt to be split apart by him, to feel so full.

Breathing heavily through his nose, he stills and she can feel his inexperience in the way that he tenses, but isn’t prepared to give up when they’ve already come this far. She rolls her hips against his, a breathy sigh escaping her as she feels her sweet spot rub up against the head of him.

He screws his eyes shut, jaw going slack, before beginning to move his own hips, pulling back to slam forward once more, quickly finding a rhythm that suits him. This isn’t careful, considered lovemaking, they rut against each other like animals, both of them allowing instinct to guide them as they seek out the movements that feel most pleasurable.

She clings tightly to him, meeting him thrust for thrust, their breaths coming in hot, shallow pants.

“Fucking knew this was all you needed,” he mutters, “someone to teach you a lesson, see you for what you really are.”

“Please,” she whimpers, her hands sliding down to his backside to push him in deeper, causing him to groan.

“F–fuck,” he stutters, picking up his pace when he feels her start to tighten around him. “Tell me you’re mine, you don’t need anyone else, just me.”

“‘M yours,” she gasps, pushing her hips against his, zeroing in on the precipice she is about to fall from.

A particularly harsh thrust is the final shove she needs, and white hot waves of euphoria wrack her body, as she cries out in ecstasy. Suddenly, Michael is withdrawing, leaving her to clench around nothing as he paints her inner thigh with sticky warmth.

He collapses beside her, and she stares into the lightly fogged lenses of his glasses, their noses bumping together.

“Are you still going to ruin my life?” She asks, hazy with pleasure.

For the first time, their lips meet, a messy clash of tongue and teeth, that’s sloppy and wet, their breaths still heavy and movements uncontrolled.

“You’re going to let me,” he whispers when they finally break for air, “because you’re mine.” Resistance is futile, she will let him. She wants this, needs this. After all, Michael Gavey is the type of person she came to Oxford to associate with in the first place, and she’s gotten exactly what she asked for.

#fic recs #ange is such an amazing writer bloody hell

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sillylittleedits · 2 years ago

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#charlie’s angels (1976)#kris munroe #Addie #04/06/23 #the episode we found out Cheryl Ladd could sing #what a voice she has bloody hell she’s amazing

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ellecdc · 5 months ago

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Battered by Baggage

poly!marauders x whimsical!reader who the boys cannot find [1k words]

prompt by @atlass8: "Reader has a suitcase like Newt Scamander and she probably busy doing something in there but our boys don't know about it and can't find her. barty being our bestie he knows where reader is but doesn't tell anyone cause he likes chaos. tho their reaction to the suitcase would be amazing" -> scenario by @unstablereader

CW: Crouch Sr reference but it's chill, fem!reader

“She may have gotten lost, Pads.” Remus placated without raising his gaze from his book, though he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been staring at the same two passages as he fretted over your whereabouts as well.

“How could she be lost, Moony? We’re on a train, it has only two directions.” Sirius pressed.

“She is always wandering off…” James considered as he peered out the window, though he didn’t seem particularly confident in his statement.

“We always sit in this compartment.” Sirius insisted. “She knows that, everyone knows that. She’s supposed to meet us here.”

“And she will, bubs.” James offered him, pulling the long-haired boy into his side and pressing his nose into his jaw. “She keeps her promises.”

Remus hardly had a moment to smile at his boyfriends when the compartment door was flung open unceremoniously.

The three boys deflated significantly when the head that was poking into their train compartment was not that of their sweet albeit perhaps more than slightly whimsical girlfriend, but that of her very much maniacal best friend.

“Not one looker in the bunch.” Barty scoffed with a shake of his head.

“Yeah, well the average of this compartment will greatly improve once you sod off.” Sirius muttered rather petulantly as he crossed his arms, taking a moment to remind himself how upset you would be if you found out he had hexed your friend.

“Whatever.” Barty sighed as if he was really quite bored of this conversation that he had started. “Tell Treasure we’re looking for her.”

“Yeah, that’ll be the first thing we say when we find her Junior.” Sirius scoffed sarcastically, earning him a very bemused expression from Barty before his eyes flit up to the overhead luggage.

“Merlin, you really wouldn’t know what's right above you, would you?” He sighed in exasperation then, closing the door before anyone could respond and stalking off down the train.

“He’s a weird bloke.” James let out with a breath, relaxing somewhat into his seat now that the unwelcome company had vacated.

“What did he mean that we wouldn’t know what’s sitting right above us?” Remus murmured to himself just as the train veered a corner and a few bags fell from the overhead compartment; one landing on Sirius’ head before landing on the ground with a thud.

“Whose bag is that?” James asked as he craned his neck to peer at it over Sirius.

“It’s gonna go out the bloody window.” Sirius muttered as glared at the offending bag and massaged his head.

Before Sirius could act on his revenge, the bag began to wiggle and shift before you came tiptoeing out of it with a yawn.

“There you boys are!” you greeted excitedly as if they hadn’t just spent the last however long worried you had missed the bloody train to Hogwarts.

“There we are!? What- what the hells?” Sirius sputtered.

You seemed rather confused at Sirius’ theatrics and turned to look at Remus quizzically.

“We’ve been looking for you, baby dove.” he murmured as he pulled you down so you were tucked into his side on the bench beside him.

“Oh,” you giggled, “well I wasn’t very far, Siri; I was only taking a nap.”

The three boys stared at you; Remus who had decided long ago to stop trying to understand you and just appreciate your antics, James who looked like he was trying to decide between being elated at finally having you here and scolding you for worrying him so, and Sirius who was still clearly very caught up on the whole matter.

“A nap?” Sirius deadpanned.

“Right.”

“In a bag.”

“Mhm.” You hummed happily; smile beaming as you leaned further into Remus’ side. Merlin, he loved you.

James let out a nervous chuckle as he placed a reassuring hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “Sweetheart, I’m afraid we’re going to need more details.”

“Dumbledore said I was allowed to keep the nifflers but they weren’t allowed to roam the school; I guess they had stolen from Slughorn a few too many times.” You explained easily.

“You have nifflers?” Remus asked you then, to which he was rewarded with you smiling shyly up at him.

“Well, they were Barty’s first; his father is involved with poaching and trading beasts and creatures, so Barty stole them from him and brought them to school.”

“And Junior just…released them on the grounds?” Sirius asked.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” You repeated.

The three boys waited for you to explain more, but when it became clear that you weren’t going to, Remus gave you a nudge.

“Where did Junior release them?” He asked you sweetly.

“Gryffindor tower.”

“That son of a bitch.” Sirius muttered as he no doubt started considering the amount of accessories he had lost last term.

“So, let me get this straight.” James started as he reached over and took your hand in his. “Crouch Senior poached and was trying to trade a pack of nifflers.” He paused for you to nod. “So Junior stole them.” Another nod. “And brought them to school where they wreaked havoc and then Dumbledore moved to ban them from school property.”

“Right.” You agreed happily, squeezing James’ hand in yours in praise of his correct deduction.

Remus watched as James melted slightly in his quasi-interrogation in order to smile at you before the bag vibrated again.

“And now they all just…live in here?” He asked as he brought the bag over and pulled the two sides apart slightly in an attempt to peer inside.

“I’d be careful Jamie; Sirius’ earrings look quite expensive.” You suggested breezily, smiling at Sirius as if you hadn’t just sort of threatened his belongings.

He couldn’t be mad at you, though; not for his stress over your whereabouts, not for your slightly rude entrance, and certainly not for your caring nature which resulted in you toting around a bag of pilfering thieves.

And he certainly couldn’t be mad at you when you looked so sodding sweet pressed up against Remus’ side as if that was simply where you were meant to be.

And he definitely wouldn’t be mad if he could convince you to take care of the growing lump on his head as a ruse to get to cuddle you all by himself tonight.

Nope, Sirius really couldn’t find it in him to be mad at all.

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princessbellecerise · 6 months ago

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Nameday Celebration

Summary ✩ Call it recklessness or sheer stupidity, but Benjicot is determined not to miss his lovers nameday…Even if it means sneaking into enemy territory for the night

Warnings ✩ Smut, oral sex, established relationship, brief mention of violence, fingering, foul language

The music around you was loud, and though it was quite merry, it did nothing to lift your spirits as you sat at the high table.

All around you, you were surrounded by the happy chatter of other lords and ladies that had travelled from all over to be here. Some of them even shared the same last name as you did, Bracken. But even though the evening was filled with music and light, warmth and laughter from your family, you still felt…disappointed.

You felt terrible, of course, sitting there in your fancy dress and feeling ungrateful at the ball that was thrown in your name—but you couldn’t help it.

People had come from all over the Riverlands for you, uprooted their lives and paid good coin on gifts for you, but none of that was what you truly wanted.

Your father had gone through great lengths to throw you this ball, spending coin that he didn’t have just to celebrate and maybe find you a suitable match.

By all means, it was supposed to be an amazing night in your life and yet you were so caught up in your feelings that you couldn’t even find it in yourself to be thankful.

All over, you constantly spotted sigils from houses such as the Freys, the Mootons, and the Mallisters. Even the Tully’s had made an effort to appear but none of those sigils were the ones that you wanted to see.

None of those sigils belonged to him.

Admittedly, you knew that you were a fool to ever think that he’d show up here. Your father would have sooner died than invite a Blackwood into his home, let alone have one around his daughter.

It was a feeble thought, and it was stupid of you to even be upset. Of course Benji would not show up your nameday celebration. You had known that ever since it was announced.

Your lover himself had told you that as much as he wanted to, there was just no way for him to celebrate your nameday with you. He sure as hell wasn’t invited and it would be too risky and too bloody to just show up unannounced.

The chaos that would ensue if a band of Blackwoods showed up would ruin your nameday for certain. And as much as you wanted to see him, you understood that his absence was for the best.

Still though, the feeling of disappointment had its grip on you.

You tried to act normal and you tried to make it seem like you weren’t utterly gutted, but you knew that your emotions had spilled out anyways. You were quiet and withdrawn, choosing to stay at the high table in the seat of honor rather than get up and dance with every one else.

You had chosen to sip on your wine rather than prance around with a man you didn’t care about.

You knew it was petty, but if your father wanted to be petty as well and not invite the Blackwoods, then you vowed not dance with anyone other than Benji.

It was problematic, seeing you were the guest of honor and you had declined many lords already, but you held fast. Each and every man that came to your table was turned away, to the displeasure of your father.

His ulterior motives of trying to find you a husband were not as discreet as he thought them to be. Every time the word ‘no,’ left your lips to a potential match, his lips pressed into a thinner and thinner line.

His patience with you was slowly running out.

Even though others might not have picked up on your sullen mood, he did. You were your father’s daughter after all. It was easy enough for him to tell that something was wrong, and whatever it was, he wasn’t happy about it.

After making sure that the coast was clear and that was no one was listening, he leaned in and addressed you with distain in his voice.

“Is something the matter with the celebration, Y/N?” He asked tightly.

His eyes, similar to yours, bore into you from behind his mask. Curiosity along with annoyance could be seen pooling inside them.

The answer that you had been mentally rehearsing all night finally had its chance to slip out.

“No father. Nothing is wrong with the celebration. Everything you have done for me is beautiful and much appreciated.”

Your father clenched his jaw as you took a sip of your wine, trying your best to avoid his heated stare.

“Is that so?” A small scoff left his lips. “Then why is it that you refuse to act the least bit of happy?”

You swallowed as your mind flickered to Benji. You were grateful that your mother had insisted on a masquerade ball, and that your mask was big enough to cover your face. If it didn’t, you feared you’d give much more than you wanted to away.

“I’m not…unhappy, father,” A sigh left your lips as you looked to the dance floor. Your eyes lingered on all of the couples who got to dance freely. On all of the ladies that got to be with who they wanted to without it ending in a bloody civil war.

Involuntarily, envy pooled in your chest.

“I’m just..tired, that’s all,” You continued, hoping your lie was enough.

It wasn’t.

Another scoff could be heard from your father as his chair scraped. From beside you, on your left, your mother looked on worriedly as he hissed.

“Tired? How can you be tired, daughter, when you have not even bothered to grace the dance floor?”

Silence was heard on your part as you swallowed again. You kept your eyes in front of you for fear that you’d say something to make him angrier. It wasn’t your intentions to get into it with your family, not tonight, so you kept your eyes straight and your mouth shut.

You focused on the many people on the dance floor as your father simply shook his head, mumbling about how ungrateful his daughter was.

Your mother simply gave you a disappointed look, but you ignored them both as something caught your attention.

At first, you thought that you imagined it. A simple trick of the light perhaps, or maybe you just had too much wine, but you could have sworn that you saw a flash of black, accompanied by broad shoulders and wide, gleaming eyes.

Your gaze became locked onto the stranger that bared these traits, so familiar to you but so far away. With your heart hammering in your chest, you watched as he made his way onto the dance floor. You couldn’t see him yet, not properly anyways. He was still hidden behind the horde of people all crowded together. Hiding behind the multitude of dancers and weaving in and out of the crowd.

It took all you had to keep your gaze on him and not look away. You couldn’t lose him. Not until he got closer. Not until you were sure.

For now, you were stuck following his movements with care, watching as he came closer, and closer, until finally…

Your heart stopped.

You weren’t sure if it was the wine or if you truly were hallucinating as your eyes locked with his, Benji coming to stand right in front of the high table. Beside him were two other men, all bare of any sigils and hidden under masks. But they were there. They were…

No, no.

It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t dare.

…Would he?

You started to doubt yourself. Telling yourself that there was no way that it could be him. It was too much of a risk. It was too dangerous for him to even consider such a thing…

But then he began to smile. That damned smile that you would recognize anywhere, under a mask or not. That and his eyes. You knew those eyes. That wide-eyed, crazed stare that often sent your heartbeat racing through your chest.

You knew them like the back of your hand. And sure enough, as you stared into the crowd, looking directly into those eyes, he winked.

Your chair scraped immediately.

Without much warning you stood, shooting a quick mumble towards your father before racing down the steps and towards him with determination.

Your father, thankfully, was none the wiser as you rushed forward, nodding in approval as you reached Benji and looped your arm with his.

He thought you had simply come to your senses and was dancing with some lord.

He had no idea who you were moving towards the dance floor with and if he did, you were sure that the smile would be wiped right off his face.

Lord Bracken would start a war if he knew a Blackwood had snuck under his roof, but alas that was the last thing that you were worried about.

You were more concerned about your lover getting caught, the fool having the nerve to laugh as you dragged him through the crowd. The two men he had brought along with him tried to follow, but they quickly ended up getting lost.

It was almost impossible to navigate through all of the twirling bodies, but you made it your mission to weave through them, Benji’s laughter getting lost under all of the noise. You were grateful that the masks at least concealed your true identities, allowing you to pull him along until no one else was around.

You managed to make it all the way to your room without getting stopped. As you did, you opened the door and all but threw Benji inside, making sure the door was locked before turning to your lover with a glare.

A wild gleam appeared in his eyes as he stared at you. It was obvious that he was more pleased than afraid as he grinned, crackling as he embraced you in his arms.

“Benji, Benji! Put me down!”

His laughter mixed in with your shouts of protests as Benji suddenly picked you up, spinning around in his arms.

The world suddenly went blurry for a moment as your lover twirled you, your eyes going in and out of focus. You felt dizzy whenever he finally let go of you, swaying a little bit until Benji steadied you.

When he did, you swore with everything inside of you were going to kill him.

“You idiot! What the hell were you thinking?”

Benji smiled sheepishly as you turned your fiery gaze on him, a mix of concern and anger lacing your voice. Worriedly, you glanced to the door, afraid that someone would burst through and discover him even though you had locked it.

With little time to protest, you were swept into his arms again and pulled against him.

“I was thinking that couldn’t help myself, my love. It is your nameday, and I had to see you,” He said softly, pressing his forehead to yours.

Instantly, some of your anger began to dissolve. You blamed not seeing him for weeks as the reason you began to fold so quickly, but some of your worry and panic still bled over.

“You had to? Benji you could have been caught! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be here right now? If my father or the guards had discovered you—”

Benji cut you off with a loud laugh.

“Your guards are the sorriest cunts I have ever seen in my life,” He snorted. “I could have snuck an entire army into Stone Hedge and no one would have batted an eye.”

“Hey!”

You playfully swatted his shoulder, giggling softly because you knew he was right. If your guards had done their jobs then Benji wouldn’t be here right now. Alone in a room with their Lord’s daughter, staring at her with a hungry look in his eyes.

A million different things ran through your mind. Everything from terror at getting caught to just being plain excited that he was here flooded your veins. You kept looking over your shoulder, expecting your door to burst open any second while Benji continued to hold you.

It took a few seconds, but when you were sure that no one was coming to seize your lover and take him away, a smile broke out on your face and you quickly embraced him back.

You threw your arms around Benji and held him tight, burying your head into the crook of his neck as you laughed lightly.

“Leave it to you, Benjicot Blackwood, to risk death and torture just to wish me a happy nameday,” You whispered, feeling his chest rumble underneath you.

Benji shrugged. “And to give you this,” He said cheekily, pulling away. When he did, you saw him reach into his pocket for a second before slowly pulling something out.

You bit your lip as Benji handed you a box, a velvet box with the Blackwood sigil embroidered on top.

With a curious look, you opened it up and then gasped at what you saw inside.

“This is…this is for me?” You asked incredulously.

Benji nodded, grinning.

“Of course it is, love. You’re the only Bracken I can give that to without loosing my head,” He teased slightly before continuing.

“D’you like it though? I had to go four towns over, all the way to The Crag so people wouldn’t ask questions. Figured it would have been strange if a Blackwood was caught asking someone to make a neckless with a Bracken sigil.”

The shyness that he sometimes was known for was evident on his face as he waited for your response, Benji nervously playing with his hands.

Luckily though, he didn’t have to wait long. He sighed in relief as he saw you grin, pulling him into another bone crushing hug and kissing his cheek.

“Benji…of course I love it,” You whispered in his ear, making him shiver. You could feel him relax underneath you, hugging you back as your eyes threatened to fill with tears.

“You mean it?” He asked, a bit more vulnerability shining through.

Your heart filled with more love that you thought was capable.

“Of course I mean it. How could I not?” You asked him softly. “It’s beautiful, and I can’t imagine it was easy for you to even have this made.”

You made a jest in order to keep yourself from crying.

Benji laughed lightly. “Aye. It nearly killed me to spend coin on that ugly red stag, but I think the back of it makes up for it. Look.”

He gestured for you to flip the necklace over and when you did, you discovered that it was double-sided. On the front, the sigil of house Bracken was carved, unassuming to anyone who saw it. But on the back…

You ran your fingers over the weirwood tree surrounded by ravens and lightly gasped. It was the sigil of House Blackwood, the symbol that belonged to the man you loved.

In tiny letters, barely visible unless you squinted, the initials B.B were engraved in one of the ravens.

Benjicot Blackwood.

“Oh. It’s beautiful Benji. Thank you,” You said again, your voice thick with emotion as you saw it. This time, you weren’t able to keep the tears from your eyes, one of them falling down your cheek as you sniffled.

Gently, Benji reached to your face and wiped it away. He smiled lightly and gestured for you to turn around. Taking the necklace from your hands, he then unclasped it and gently placed it around your neck.

When he did, he flipped it so that the symbol of House Blackwood showed instead.

“There. Just as it belongs,” He said.

Sniffling lightly, you allowed him to run his fingers over it, Benji placing soft kisses on your neck before turning you around.

When you did, you immediately planted your lips upon his, unable to resist it any longer.

You could tell that Benji was taken by surprise by the sudden action, but he quickly wasted no time in kissing you back. He matched the amount of passion in your kiss, greedily drinking in the taste of you after being starved for so long.

Not long after, what started as a soft, slow kiss turned into something more. The desperation that you both felt after not seeing each other for a while pooled over, and soon enough you found yourself tugging on his hair, wanting something more.

Benji clearly felt the same as he began to lead you towards the bed.

Gently, he laid you down on the soft covers and your heart pounded as he leaned over you.

Once more, his lips met yours in a swift kiss but this time it was accompanied by roaming hands.

You felt him touching you everywhere that he could, Benji feeling all of the parts that he missed.

His hands lingered on your waist and then your chest, fingers dancing over the material that covered your breasts. It was clear that just feeling you over your clothing wasn’t enough. He wanted more, and so you weren’t surprised when he broke the kiss, eyes hungry as he tugged on the yellow garb.

“Take this off,” He demanded softly, his dark eyes wild with lust.

Quickly, you sat up and with his assistance was able to get it off. Benji struggled a little bit when it came to your corset, resulting in your lover getting impatient.

Regrettably, this meant that you would have to explain to your Septa why the strings looked like they had been cut with a knife. A little annoyance pooled inside of you at the inconvenience, but you tried not to think about that as you stared at him, anxious to know what he wanted next.

“Turn around,” Benji then rasped, taking no time to drink in your naked body. “I want you on your knees, ass in the air.”

Despite his filthy words, his tone was oddly soft. Desire pooled in your core as you obediently listened, eager for whatever it was he had planned for you. You laid your head on your soft pillow, eyes fluttering shut as you felt the bed dip behind you.

You sighed as Benji kneeled in between your legs. In an instant, your felt his calloused hands roaming over your body, trailing all the way from the small of your back to the center of your core. Gently, his padded fingers traced your slick folds, eliciting a moan from you when they brushed over your clit.

“Fuck, how I’ve missed this.”

You said nothing as his fingers continued to tease your clit, too busy panting at the sensation.

It had been too long, you noted, since you had felt your lovers’ touch.

The more that tensions between your houses grew, the less time that you had to spend with Benji. It was too risky to be seen anywhere near Blackwood territory and your father had doubled the guards, making it nearly impossible to sneak out. Your meetings had been so few as of late, leaving you craving his touch like no other.

Eagerly, you wanted to take advantage of this opportunity, moaning when Benji sank a digit into your tight cunt. You cursed softly as he began to pump in and out, loving the way he curled them inside of you to reach your pleasure spots.

It seemed that your time apart did nothing to impact Benji’s memory. He still remembered exactly how to make you come undone, adding more and more digits until your cunt was stuffed.

The more fingers that he added, the louder you moaned. Pleasure that you had not experienced in weeks quickly began to cloud your senses, making you forget that you were supposed to be quiet in case anyone overheard you.

You could only imagine the disaster that would ensue if Benjicot Blackwood was discovered knuckle-deep inside of Lord Bracken’s daughter. Making her come undone on his fingers, slowly but surely, and whispering the filthiest of words in her ear.

You imagined that the aftermath wouldn’t be pretty, but alas all of those thoughts and worries faded away the minute you felt Benji kneel down, attaching his mouth to your cunt.

Any previous thoughts that you had were gone—replaced by muffled moans and incoherent blabber.

You whimpered as you felt Benji’s tongue lapping at your folds, eating your cunt like he was a man starved.

You felt him sucking on your clit, taking the bud into his mouth just as his index and middle finger curled against the right spot.

The combined pleasure had you gasping out, pillow forgotten as strangled cries left your lips.

Benji could feel your cunt tightening around his fingers and he smirked, coaxing you through your orgasm as you moaned and withered under him.

It took all he had to hold you down, using his free hand to keep your cunt firmly pressed against him. He refused to let up his assault until he could taste you on his tongue, the sweetness of your juices making him groan as well.

When he finally pulled away and released you from his hold, you managed to weakly look behind you and see him grinning. Benji licked his fingers, his face shiny with your arousal as he met your eyes.

“Hmm. So fuckin’ sweet. You want to taste, raven?”

Meekly you nodded, your face and your core burning at the nickname. Benji smiled as he leaned down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips while he grinded into you.

You could feel his cock hard as stone poking against your thighs. The thought of him being inside of you after so long briefly made you loose the ability to breathe as excitement flooded your veins.

The action allowed for Benji to slip his tongue in your mouth, kissing you sloppily for a moment before reluctantly pulling away.

His wild eyes were dark with lust as he fiddled with his own clothing, loosening his trousers so that his cock could spring free.

You felt your mouth water as you watched him stroke himself for a moment, spurts of preseed dripping down the base.

Benji let a hand roam over your back and gently used it to push you down, spreading your legs so that he could settle in between them.

With your back arched and your face pressed firmly against the pillow once again, he teased you by dragging his cock along your folds and then, he pushed in.

Together, you both let out a whine as Benji’s cock sank inside of you, your lover letting out a swear as you gripped him tight.

It had been a while since the two of you had sex, and it was evident in the way your legs trembled, your cunt straining to take him as he sank deeper.

You let out another whine, reaching behind you for something to grip. Luckily Benji seemed to get the message clear enough, and quickly he intertwined your fingers together.

Once he was buried inside of you to the hilt, he stilled for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Light kisses were peppered against your back as he leaned over you, holding you as close as possible before his hips began to move.

In a slow rhythm, he dragged his cock in and out as if to savor the moment.

As his hips snapped against yours and sent jolts of ecstasy through your body, your moans slowly started to combine.

You had forgotten how much you missed this. You had forgotten how much you missed him. Loneliness was awful but often times it was easy to get accustomed to it. After all, it’s what you signed up for when you took a Blackwood for your lover.

You expected to go days, weeks, or even months without seeing Benji. So when he was here, you did all you could to savor him before he had to leave again.

Every breath, every groan, and every whisper of encouragement was committed to memory. Every touch, every kiss cherished.

You relished in the way Benji’s cock felt against your walls, squeezing him as if it would somehow help you remember how it felt.

A small curse left his lips as you did, Benji leaning down to suck a love bite on your skin.

As his teeth grazed your neck, you groaned as he somehow managed to find both of your sweet spots.

“That’s it. That’s it. Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Benji praised you as you began to fuck yourself on his cock, throwing your hips back and meeting his trusts. Your moans combined together as the pace sped up, the sound of heavy breathing quickly filling the room.

After a moment, you felt his weight shift off of your body as Benji opted to get back on his knees. He used his hands to keep your hips steady, pushing down on the small of your back to keep it arched.

With this new angle, he was able to drive into you quicker and repeatedly hit your sweet spot. Curses left his lips as you began to tremble around him, his own orgasm approaching at the same time as yours.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You gripped the sheets tightly as obscenities left his mouth, feeling Benji quickly pull out of you just as your peak washed over you.

Hot spurts of his seed coated your back, Benji spilling himself onto your skin before finishing you off with his fingers.

The absence of his cock was most disappointing, but by the time you came down from your high you barely noticed.

You were too busy in a state of bliss, turning around to capture Benji in a kiss before shakily pulling away.

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked immediately, panting heavily as he collapsed next to you.

Sometimes, it amazed you how quickly he could change. One moment Benji was shy and sweet, giving you the most beautiful necklace for your nameday. And then the next he was making you cum, whispering the dirtiest things in your ear and fucking you so good that you saw stars.

Now, he had switched again, his soft side back on display as he held you in his arms.

He was careful enough not to cum inside of you and—much to your displeasure—had used your fancy yellow dress to wipe up his seed.

You suspected that he was too pleased by the action, but you opted not to say anything about it. Instead, you merely disregarded the dress and chose to cuddle in his arms, trying to soak the last remaining moments you had.

“Of course I’m alright. It is my nameday and I’ve just received the best gift of the night,” You replied after some pause.

You knew him well enough that you could practically hear the smirk appear on his face.

“What? The sex?” Benji asked cheekily, to which you playfully elbowed him.

“No you fool!” You giggled as you knew that was exactly what he was going to say. “The necklace! The necklace you risked life and limb to deliver to me personally!”

You rolled your eyes as Benji began to laugh behind you, the cheerful sound echoing through your chambers.

“Right, right. That is what I risked life and limb for,” He said innocently.

You didn’t have the energy to do anything expect roll your eyes again. You swore he was so stupid sometimes. From sneaking into enemy territory to making silly little jests, your Benji sure was a character to be reckoned with.

But, that was exactly what you loved about him.

Sighing softly, you shook your head and listened to the sound of his breathing. It remained steady behind you as Benji slowly relaxed, settling in your bed like he was simply at home.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he was falling sleep. His body was certainly still enough to think so, but you knew as well as he did that he couldn’t stay here.

The party downstairs was slowly dying down. If you listened close enough, you could hear the final songs planned for the night dwindling down, and you knew pretty soon someone was going to come for you.

Benji couldn’t be here when they did.

Your father was probably already angry enough at your lack of presence. If he ever discovered the reason why you had so suddenly disappeared then he would have your head—Benji’s too.

And as much you loved lying in his arms, feeling the warmth and the love radiating from his body, you loved seeing Benji alive much more.

So, sure enough, as the final notes on the final songs began to play, he stood up.

“Well, I suppose that’s my cue to take leave, then.”

Benji smiled sadly as he began to gather his clothes, redressing while you watched him with despair. The sheets that were wrapped loosely around you began to fall as you stood as well, walking over to him just as he readjusted his dagger.

“Do you promise to come visit me soon?” You asked him anxiously.

Slowly, Benji began to nod. He knew as well as you did that soon was debatable. Tensions were at all time high as whispers of war breaking out in the Kingdom spread. They added to the already strained relations between your houses.

Still though, Benji could not bare to see your disappointment. He didn’t want to leave on a bad note, either, so he settled for an unserious answer to ease the situation.

“If your father doesn’t replace his guards any time soon then I’ll be able to visit you any time you’d like,” He chuckled.

He was met by a small giggle that had his heart smiling with joy. Softly, you gripped his hand, savoring his touch as you knew that it would be the last time for a while.

“Stay safe out there, Blackwood,” You told him softly. “Don’t get into any trouble and for Seven’s sake, leave the assize stones alone. Make sure that you come back to me, you hear?”

Your tone was playful, but he knew that you were being as serious as a dead man.

Briefly, his lips twitched a little as he fought the urge to tell you that it was your family that messes with the stones. But ultimately, he agreed.

“I will. I promise,” Benji said sincerely.

A soft kiss was then planted on your lips, you and Benji holding onto each other for one last time. When you pulled away, a sigh of disappointment left your lips as you watched him walk away.

Closing your eyes, you decided to count his footsteps until he reached the door.

When you got to ten, you heard the door open. And one last time, Benji called out to you.

“Oh. And Bracken?”

“Hmm?”

You opened your eyes to see that familiar goofy smile, his eyes shining as he looked at you.

“I almost forgot to tell you, but happy nameday, my love. I do hope that this was a good one,” Benji laughed.

And with that, he closed the door, leaving you smiling and shaking your head behind him.

That fool. What one earth am I going to do with you, Benjicot Blackwood?

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd smut #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood smut #benjicot blackwood #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader

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