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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

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Letterman Jacket

Javier Peña x F!Reader oneshot

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Tensions come to a head between you and Javier on the private jet back to Bogotá after a long, frustrating day. Or rather - after six long, frustrating years of bad blood.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: My first PW(much)P, enemies to lovers, arguing, swearing, drinking, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, thigh riding, no use of Y/N, soft!Javier

Notes: After obsessing over this damn jacket forever, I finally pulled the trigger. This is my first ever Javier, and I know he’s not perfect, but my 2023 resolution is to not overthink things, and I had a blast writing this in a couple of days since the idea came to me. I’m so nervous posting this, but excited to have finally made a start with Javier. Please be gentle with me ❤️

P.S. I’m going on my honeymoon the next 2 weeks. I’m sure I’ll be lurking around, and I also have new content all queued up for @fuckyeahpedropascal! See you!

I’m still finding Javier’s voice, but my understanding and interpretation of this man so far is definitely shaped by @the-ginger-hedge-witch character analyses and The Crush (which I’m still catching up on). Thank you Professor Ren for sharing your insight into our favourite DEA agent 🥰

It’s cold.

Why is it cold in fucking Miami?

If only you’d checked the weather report beforehand - oh wait, that’s right. You weren’t exactly given much notice, even less detail, when the phone call came this morning. Not that 4am should count as "morning" in your books.

We found him.

Who?

Jurado. Take the first flight out to Curacao this morning, it’s in two hours. We’re taking him in and flying straight to Miami. Get the papers ready, he’ll be testifying tomorrow.

What the actual fuck, Peña -

You can’t even remember what you stuffed into your weekender bag after he hung up without another word. Mostly legal papers and pens and a change of clothes - all of which are now redundant. The bag hangs heavy in your grip, the taste of failure bitter in your mouth.

Something warm descends onto your shoulders, and you almost jump out of your skin, eyes wide as they snap up. Javier isn’t looking at you though, his unseeing gaze trained on the tips of his brown leather boots, hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans. He trudges across the tarmac, the bravado that is usually so loud in his walk conspicuously absent.

Reaching up, you pull his jacket tighter with your free hand, the stretch of the fabric distorting the bold letters DEA emblazoned on the left lapel. He doesn’t wear it often - he’s in suits mostly these days, which you can tell pisses him off to no end. He almost never does his tie up properly, a subtle middle finger to the establishment, perhaps.

Your lips twitch despite yourself. Peña’s always been happier going on literal wild goose chases.

The jacket easily engulfs you, blocking out the unwelcome evening chill. You breathe in the faint but unmistakable scent of cigarettes and you can feel the weight of a full box swing against your side. He keeps insisting he’s trying to quit, but obviously not very hard.

Somehow, it doesn’t feel any warmer in the plane cabin, and you put your arms through the sleeves of the jacket properly before sinking heavily into one of the plush leather seats with a sigh, relieved to get off your sore feet.

You don’t notice the small plane taking off with just the two of you, sitting silently opposite each other until the flight path levels, at which point Javier promptly heads to the small bar at the end of the cabin and comes back with two generous glasses of whiskey.

Sipping in silence, you let your gaze settle on him, no subtlety left in the tank after your shitty day at twenty hours and counting. Javier, in turn, stares listlessly out of the window, uninterested in your scrutiny. Strands of mussed hair fall over his tired eyes, the dark circles underneath shadowing his entire countenance.

His pink shirt, which was drenched in sweat when he’d finally, finally caught up to Jurado in that square in Curacao, has long dried in the cool Miami air. And of course it’s tight and the neckline unbuttoned halfway down his chest, the poor fabric stretched to an inch of its life by his obnoxiously wide shoulders. It’s tucked into even tighter jeans that seem to struggle to contain all of him.

Honestly, it’s a damn miracle he could do any running at all in this ensemble.

You stare at the little fold-up table between the two of you. It had been covered in papers en route to Miami just hours ago, the Cali moneyman sitting exactly where you are now. Jurado agreed to the lesser charges of money laundering and racketeering in exchange for testifying for the DEA. You had him. He was in that interview room. The lawyers from the Miami county court were ready to take over.

But somehow, that smarmy, rotund excuse of a cartel lawyer got there first.

A heavy sigh catches your ear over the whir of the plane engines, and you watch as Javier drags one heavy hand over his face, the tips of his thick fingers resting above his pursed lips, before he shakes his head.

The words are out of your mouth before your head catches up. ‘Stop it.’

Dark eyes flicker your way, brows drawing into a frown. ‘What?’

Your empty glass clunks loudly when it hits the table. ‘Stop beating yourself up. We both know this is out of our hands. Quit the self-martyrdom bullshit.’

The grin comes quickly and sarcastically. You hate it. He’s never been big on smiles, but you’ve seen how his face can light up with a laugh over a drink, or at a good joke. From a distance, of course, and never in your direction. You’ve only ever had scowls and glares thrown your way.

You’re not alone though - these days, that’s all anyone ever gets from him.

Leaning back in his chair, one big palm cradling the bottom of the crystal tumbler that looks much smaller than it should, and the other resting on his thigh, Javier huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘Is that what you think of me?’

‘I don’t think it. I know it.’

‘You don’t know me,’ he answers coolly.

You roll your eyes. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Peña. You’re not some pouty, brooding mystery to me. I’ve been cleaning up after your mess for six fucking years.’ Shaking your head, you can’t help adding, ‘Not that you’ve ever appreciated any of it.’

He gives you a derisive snort. ‘I wasn’t aware that I should be thanking you for getting in my way at every turn.’

‘Getting in your way?’ you chuckle mirthlessly. ‘I’ve been trying to keep you out of jail, asshole.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t be.’

‘Is this what all this is about? Some survivor’s guilt bullshit?’ Unperturbed by his silence, you press on. ‘Well guess what, I don’t work for you. Having the attaché in jail isn’t really a good look for our employer, so bad news, you’re a free man as long as I’m legal counsel for the DEA.’

‘It would make my life a lot fucking easier if you weren’t.’

The words are so quiet, so matter-of-fact, they have no right to hit you as hard as they do. You’re horrified to feel the sting of tears on the seam of your eyelashes, and your lips part wordlessly before you regain your voice. ‘Fuck you, Peña.’

He winces and sits up, setting his glass next to yours on the table. ‘Shit. That came out wrong -’

Nails dig into your palms as hurt threatens to claw its out of the carefully locked compartment where you keep it. ‘No, I think it came out exactly as you meant it. You’ve hated me since day one.’

‘I don’t hate you -’

You glare at him. ‘You think I don’t know what people say behind my back over drinks at the embassy bar, when I’m stuck in the office dealing with whatever legal bullshit you’ve dug yourself into? I bet you like a good laugh at my expense.’

Shifting forward in his seat, Javier reaches out and grabs your left wrist. ‘Stop it. I don’t. You know I wouldn’t.’

You try to pull back but he doesn’t budge, easily holding you in place. You bite out, ‘I’ll quit if that’s what you want. Might as well make both of our lives easier with one resignation letter.’

Javier’s hold on you tightens, and he bares his teeth in frustration. ‘That’s not what I want.’

‘That’s exactly what you said you wanted just now. Why don’t you make up your fucking mind, Peña?’ you snap back.

‘I can’t,’ he snarls, his other hand finding your free wrist, almost jolting you out of your seat. He’s so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath. ‘I’ve never been able to with you.’

You go as still as the air around you, the mixed signals scrambling the wires in your already exhausted head. You narrow your eyes and him and hiss, ‘What?’

Javier heaves a sigh, breathing out the words through gritted teeth and eyes screwed shut. ‘You drive me up a fucking wall, woman.’

Anger surges in you, and you manage to yank both of your wrists free. Pushing him away, you spit at him with all the venom you can muster. ‘Fuck you, too!’

He growls, raking one hand through his hair before slamming it onto the fold-up table, making the glasses clink when they knock together from the force. ‘Goddamnit, won’t you just hear me? I can’t decide if I want you to shut the fuck up or if I just - want you.’

You watch his broad chest rise and fall in quick succession as he slumps in his chair, as if the last two words that are still ringing in your ears knocked the wind out of him.

Want you.

His eyes follow from under thick lashes when you reach out for the glasses, relocating them to the carpeted floor on the other side of your chair, before finding the lever underneath the table and folding it down. And you don’t miss the way his stare falls to your legs as you cross them deliberately, skirt hitching higher up, his Adam’s apple bobbing thickly in the column of his neck.

You tilt your head to one side in a challenge. ‘Well? What are you going to do about it, then?’

He’s out of his chair and on you in a beat, his arms caging you in as you pull him close by the collar of his shirt. You murmur against his lips, ‘You’re a fucking asshole, Peña.’

‘I know. Let me make it up to you -’ The words barely make it out of his mouth before he kisses you, lips warm and wet and pressing into yours insistently.

You let out a surprised yelp when Javier tugs you onto your feet, hot hands pushing his jacket off your shoulders but leaving it hanging from the crook of your arms. Goosebumps bloom where his fingers brush your sternum as he unbuttons your sleeveless shirt underneath, tugging it free from where it’s neatly tucked into your skirt.

You retort, ‘You’re going to make up for six years of bad blood on a three-hour flight?’

‘Well, what are you doing tomorrow?’ he asks almost conversationally, and with a casual flick, he undoes the front clasp of your bra. He breathes a raspy fuck as he palms your tits reverently, the contact making you shudder.

‘Actually, I was going to have a sit down with you. A little birdy told me some outrageous story about the DEA attaché endorsing wiretapping,’ you reply teasingly, wrestling with the small buttons on his shirt.

Javier chuckles, clever fingers sliding down your back and undoing the zipper on your pencil skirt, which pools about your now bare feet after kicking off your sensible low heels. ‘Fucking Stoddard. I knew he'd tattle on me.’

‘You better come prepared with a good defence, Peña,’ you quip, letting him spin you around and ease you into his seat, the leather still warm under your bare thighs. His pink shirt hangs open as he looms over you, so broad that he’s the only thing you see.

He hums and kisses down the side of your neck, stopping to suck on your pulse point. ‘How about a bit of incentive to go easy on me instead, hmm?’

You arch an eyebrow while he gets on one knee, then the other, but there’s no denying the wild rabbiting of your pulse despite your banter. ‘Bribery? Just one of the dirty tricks up your sleeves, Agent Peña?’

He peels your panties down the length of your thighs unhurriedly, smirking at the way you bite into your bottom lip as the scrap of fabric makes its descent. He hooks your right leg on his shoulder, then the left one, opening you up to his dark gaze as he smirks, ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet, cariño.’

It’s been too long. Too fucking long since you’ve been with anyone. Your hips arch clean off the leather seat at the first broad stroke of his tongue, confidently charting its way all the way up your folds. His weathered palms hold your thighs firmly apart as you writhe in his grip because it’s too much.

‘Javier,’ you breathe, meeting his almost cocky gaze as he stares up at you. He suckles wetly at your clit, lips puckering, and you buck hard into his mouth.

Granting you a brief reprieve, he moves off you with a wet smack of his lips and teases, ‘Am I making a good case for myself?’

‘Clearly not good enough if I’m still speaking in complete sentences,’ you somehow manage to counter.

He grins at you - a real one that lifts both corners of his mouth and chases away the shadows of his demons, and it has absolutely no business making your heart lurch the way that it does. ‘Touché, cariño.’

There’s no polite way of putting this. Javier eats you, meticulous and sloppy in turn, until your slick and his spit trail down the inside of your legs, and you feel the leather growing slippery underneath your bare ass. You can hear yourself over the roar of the plane engines, and you babble incoherently when he pushes his tongue into your pussy. ‘Javier, Javi -’

‘Gonna cum for me, cariño?’ He slurs as he sinks one, and then two fingers into you, biting out a filthy groan at how wet you are.

You nod desperately, finding purchase on his broad shoulders. ‘I’m so close, please -’

Pumping his fingers inside you until you squelch around them, he ducks down and laves your clit in earnest, pushing you until there’s nothing left - no air, no sound, no time and space - all the oxygen is sucked out of your lungs and your ears pop, and you cum so fucking hard with your hands tangled in his curls and his name on your lips.

‘Fuck, you’re so beautiful,’ he murmurs almost absent-mindedly, chasing your skin when you try to push him away. His moustache scrapes your thighs and sends a shudder running through you as you catch your breath. ‘I’m an idiot for waiting this long.’

Gently setting your legs down - not that you can feel them anyway - Javier turns his face to his right shoulder, and you watch in rapture as he smears the slick coating his mouth and chin onto his pink shirt, the wet spot staining the fabric.

Your lip curls in giddy amusement as you think to yourself - you look good on him.

Then he leans up to kiss you, and your head spins at the taste of yourself on his tongue and your scent on his moustache.

Pushing back the loose locks that now curl against his forehead, you sass, ‘That’s one trick. Are you going to show me another, Agent Peña?’

Without warning, his hands slide under your bare buttocks and he lifts you clean off the seat. You laugh and close your grip around his upper arms, feeling his muscles flex under your palms. You know without looking how his biceps must be straining against the short sleeves of his shirt.

He falls heavily into the chair with you straddling him, and you protest, ‘Stop, Javi, I’m going to make a mess of your jeans.’

‘I want you to make a mess,’ he declares in his rich baritone. ‘Want your pussy to soak my jeans, cariño.’

Desire flashes hot and fast up and down your spine. ‘But Javi, I just came -’ you break off as he grasps your hips and settles you onto his right thigh.

‘You can cum again,’ he shrugs with a cocksure definitiveness, coaxing a moan from you when he shifts and your folds drag along the denim. ‘Ride me, cariño.’

‘But what about you?’ You trace one palm down his bare chest and soft stomach to rest on the prominent bulge straining against the front of his tight jeans. He chokes when you give his erection a bold squeeze through the denim, which has you grinning smugly.

Covering your hand with his, he brings it up to kiss it softly. ‘Another time, it’s been a long day. Now - can I get back to making it up to you?’

Winding your arms around his neck, you rock against his thigh, feeling the wet imprint of the slick you leave behind on the coarse fabric as you move back and forth. His palms squeeze the swell of your ass reassuringly but loose enough so that you can find your own rhythm.

Javier patiently mouths his way down your neck and further, sucking hard on one nipple and then the other, making you throw your head back in a gasp.

‘You look so good wearing my jacket with your gorgeous tits out,’ he praises you, letting go of your hips to push your breasts together and laps at the soft flesh with his tongue.

‘Javier,’ you whine, tipping forward to bury your face in the long line of his neck.

The same neck you’ve sometimes wanted to wring in the heat of the moment, but also caught yourself staring at when he cradles the office phone in the crook of his shoulder. You can taste the salt on his skin - sweat and sea breeze and sunshine - and when the breath catches in his throat, your hips stutter, your orgasm so close to the surface.

As if sensing you need a bit of help, he whispers into your ear. ‘I can feel you so wet for me through my jeans, cariño. You’re doing so good for me.’

Feeling his nails dig into you as he guides you over his thigh, you whimper needily, ‘I’m so close.’

‘I know you are. You can do it - cum on my thigh.’

‘Oh fuck,’ you choke, pressing your forehead into his as you begin to shake, and he brushes his nose soothingly against yours. The impending vertigo sends you crashing into him, hands trembling on his shoulders, torn between clinging on and letting go. ‘Javi - I’m cumming, oh my god -’

And then he’s lunging towards you in a deep kiss, tongues tangling as you break again, a moan in his windpipe when he feels your pussy leak into his jeans as it clenches and clenches around nothing. Needing air, you pull back to slump bonelessly against him, panting hard into his neck, his palms drawing circles over your back.

You only realise you’ve drifted off when a sudden drop in altitude wakes you, and the PA system cackles to life with the captain’s ten-minute warning to landing. From the corner of your eye, you catch Javier watching you with a lopsided smile.

You duck your head sheepishly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.’

‘Well, you did have a 4am wakeup call,’ he quips.

Sitting back on your haunches, you do up your bra and then the buttons on your now very crumpled shirt. Easing off him on wobbly legs, you pick up your panties and skirt from the floor and dress yourself quickly, smoothing out the wrinkles as best as you can. You smile at Javier, watching him he button up his pink shirt, stopping at the fourth one as always.

Stepping in between his spread legs, hands on his upper thighs, you press a soft kiss to his lips. You smile and drag a finger over the wet spot you left on his jeans. ‘That was fun.’

The corners of his eyes crinkle and he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. ‘That might be an understatement of criminal proportions.’

You make to take off his jacket, but Javier shakes his head, tugging on the collar so it sits squarely on your shoulders. ‘Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.’

You can’t tell if it’s actually warmer when you step off the plane or if it’s the afterglow, but you keep the jacket on. Your respective cars are waiting on the airstrip next to each other, and Javier loads your weekender bag into the backseat before opening the door on the driver’s side, shutting it after you climb in.

You palm the steering wheel self-consciously as you stare at each other in a slightly awkward lull, before clearing your throat. ‘So, 9am sharp tomorrow at the 3rd floor conference room, Agent Peña?’

Javier smirks, but his eyes are warm as he shifts on his feet, leaning one elbow on the open window and cocks his head to one side. ‘Depends. Will you be wearing my letterman jacket?’

A bark of laughter escapes you. ‘Your letterman jacket? Should I pick up matching friendship bracelets for us before our meeting?’

With a lighthearted shake of his head, Javier half-turns to leave before stopping abruptly. Tapping two fingers on the window frame, he hesitates briefly, before looking up at you with earnest eyes, his voice quiet and almost solemn in its sincerity. ‘Thank you.’

Watching him go, your chest blooms with warmth at the eight letters and two little words you’ve waited six years to hear.

At twenty-seven minutes to nine the next morning, you’re flinging open the front door of your apartment, car keys jingling and thermos balanced precariously in one hand, when a flash of white on navy catches your attention.

For a long moment, you stand off dramatically with the jacket draped across the back of a kitchen chair, the letters DEA staring back at you - before you reach for it and shrug it on with a silly grin.

What can you say? You’ve always had a thing for letterman jackets.

More notes: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments and reblogs are always encouraged and so appreciated ❤️

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics as always 💕

#javier peña #javier peña fanfiction #javi peña x you #javi peña x reader #Javi Peña x fem!reader #Javi Peña x f!reader #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x female reader #narcos fanfiction #queue

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slytherizz · 3 months

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Playing God - Auror!Sebastian x Dark!MC

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Non-Con | explicit sexual content | Dark!MC | Polyjuice Sex

All tags can be found on Ao3

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: Decorated Auror, Sebastian Sallow had not anticipated how his life would diverge so sharply from the woman he once loved, the most wanted and notorious witch in Britain. Or how their paths would continue to cross - their fates still bound together.

A/N This fic has been living in my WIPs for about 6 months...I wanted to reverse the dynamic of my longer fic with Sebastian being the Auror this time and in doing such explore some darker themes. Short multi-chapter that will probably end up being three chapters at most.

She was pretty enough he supposed in a homely sort of way.

Petite, with neat shoulder-length hair that brushed against narrow shoulders and, a soft bow to her overly thin top lip. But her dress was old-fashioned, a severe high-neck buttoned almost to her chin, ruffled layers of her underskirts impractical and lumpy. Layers upon layers, of an unflattering shade of yellow washed out her otherwise pleasant features.

Compared to the other witches that would frequent such a seedy establishment with their low necklines and light skirts, she would be considered dowdy.

If it wasn't for her eyes. Keen and alert as if beneath the sheep-like exterior lurked something dangerous. He most likely would have overlooked her too.

To even the keenest observer it wouldn't look like Sebastian had any particular tastes when it came to women or men. Much to his displeasure, the qualities that drew him in were rarely mere aesthetic.

Barked laughter like an ill-tempered hound. The smell of mallowsweet. Aromatic and earthy. Teeth pressed lightly into a bottom lip like they held all the cards in a game no one else knew they were playing. Until they spread the winning hand. Smile so wide it unnerved, bore too many teeth.

Tonight, it was keen and dangerous eyes that reminded him of her.

They shared no other similarities and from what Sebastian could discern from her well-manicured nails, and unblemished skin, bar a pale line around her finger where he supposed an engagement ring would usually sit - this was no fighter.

This was a proper young lady - who had wandered onto the wrong side of town looking for a sensible amount of trouble as her wedding day, most likely to some equally wellbred suitor, loomed over her like a dark cloud.

As if Sebastian were screaming his thoughts at her across the crowded tavern, those sharp eyes flicked their attention to him. Raked over the thinning patches of his civilian cloak, the shadow across his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes he'd given up glamouring. After years they were as much a staple of his face as the freckles on his nose.

The marks of a man who hadn't enough time to shave let alone visit a tailor, a man who would scarcely have enough time to ask her too many intrusive questions.

She smiled. Jarring was the only way Sebastian could describe how her face seemed to split horizontally across its centre. Neither half quite belonged to the other. The demure and polite curl of her lips was offset by the razor-edged scrutiny of her darkened gaze. Predatory. Hungry. In a way that made his mouth go dry and cool sweat beads on the back of his neck.

Ice clinked against the side of his glass as Sebastian knocked back the remaining dregs of whiskey. Disguising the way his lip twitched at the corners under the weight of her eyes. Amber liquid burned his throat was nothing compared to the heat prickling across his skin.

Sebastian held up two fingers to indicate to the Barmaid over the raucous patrons of the pub. She placed a second glass on the bar filling them both with a more than generous pour.

"Cheers," Sebastian said, placing the coins into her hand, a little extra for her trouble as he always did. The barmaid smiled brightly, flushed and preening, over a few extra sickles as if he'd declared some great love for her. Though he supposed generosity was not a trait of many that frequented the Ogre's Arms. She leaned a little further over the bar than was strictly necessary, her fingers linger too long against his palm as he hands over his sickles.

Sebastian did not miss the way that the strangers' eyes tracked the interaction. As swift and deliberately as he had been trained to be with every motion, he slipped his hand from the barmaid's grasp deftly hooking his fingers into the rim of the grotesquely full tumblers as he spun on his heels.

Whatever the poor girl had been about to say faltered in her throat. Crackling out of life like a dying gramophone. He really should have felt some sympathy for the poor girl.

She'd made her fondness for him quite obvious over the years. Despite how Sebastian would sidle out the door with what must seem like any witch but her. Too worried about any kind of arrangement that would ask for more than he was willing, or able, to give. Nor did he wish to find a new hole to drown himself in.

And regretfully - her gentle honeyed voice and hopeful doe eyes that delivered longing glances had never stirred anything inside of Sebastian. As much as on some nights he wished they would.

Sebastian weaved through the sparse gathering around the bar of the more rambunctious patrons. Turning a blind eye, to the corner booth and the two witches poorly disguising their face under their dramatic hoods, exchanging money, a rather suspicious-looking sack at their feet which gave a periodic shudder and what looked like spines protruding from the burlap. It may be his job to investigate suspicious behaviour such as this but- he'd rather not have to explain to his sergeant exactly what he was doing in this pub in the first place.

Approaching her solitary table nestled in the corner, she inclined her chin up towards him. Smug. Sloped oak beams cast a thick shadow, and candlelight flickering against her cheekbones made her features waxy like an oil painting against a grimy canvas.

"May I?"

She tilted her head, as though she expected nothing else but was amused by his gesture nonetheless."Only because you brought a bribe."

Sebastian hooked the heel of his boot around the chair leg pulling out further. Placed the two glasses on the table as he sat, careful not to spill any against the oak surface. Not that it would be such a shame if it did. Cheap whiskey from a smudged glass was hardly a waste.

Sebastian tipped his glass to her in toast, she did not feign even the slightest interest in her glass or his hollow act of chivalry.

"I haven't seen you here before," Sebastian said.

Flexing her fingers, she admired those well-polished nails. "No. I don't suppose you would have."

West Country. Quaint. As out of place amongst the sea of London accents as her dress was from this decade. Confirming a very important fact for Sebastian she was certainly not from around here. For the best.

"This doesn't seem like the place for such a nice young lady such as yourself."

Chin resting on the back of her delicate hand. A feline grin spread across her face, as she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Nor the place for well respected Ministry men."

Tension seized Sebastian's shoulders. Unnerved by her perception, his eyes darted across the sea of faces. He'd left the scarlet cloak with the gold badge adorning his lapels in his flat long before he'd made apparated to the bottom of Knockturn Alley. Places like these didn't take too kindly to rozzers scrambling their clientele. Nor would he want it to become common knowledge at the Ministry that he frequented grimy drinking holes on his off hours. He was certain she'd been alone but that prickle of unease had his hand reaching towards his wand.

She caught his arm swiftly, delicate fingers folded up the cuff of his cloak. Ministry insignia branded into the tan leather strap that secured his wand to his forearm.

Chuckling breathily to himself, Sebastian felt the tension ebb as, just as swiftly, she turned down the sleeve. "Half the people here carry their wand tucked up their sleeve. You have a keen eye, to have spotted that mark from halfway across the room, lass. Do you make it a habit of checking if every man who approaches you is an Auror?"

Sharp eyes glinted with mischief. "Only the ones that interest me."

"Must be my lucky day." He leaned in closer, bitter whiskey breath disturbed a loose curl around her ear as he whispered. "Unless there's a reason you have to be on such high alert for authority I should know about?"

"Do I look like the kind of woman who would have much trouble with the law?"

He cast his eyes down, at her unblemished hands. Free of callouses and scar tissue, the tight restrictiveness of her bodice ill-suited for battle, her polite disarming smile - even those eyes, so reminiscent but not quite right. Despising the remorseful pang in his chest. Nothing like her.

"Well if that's the case this," he gestured around the damp crooked hole masquerading as a tavern. "Certainly isn't the place for you."

"Nor you. Unless the requirements for holding such an esteemed post has gone severely downhill and they let swindlers and murderers into their ranks." He almost winced at the sting of the insult she unwittingly delivered.

"Perhaps lurking around in dingey bars with terrible whiskey isn't suited to either of us. Perhaps, upstanding members of society that we are, should go somewhere we can feel more…relaxed."

"And where exactly is there such a place for me?" Most women would have covered that glaring tan line on her finger, under gloved hands or glamour, but she seemed to flaunt it as she ghosted it across his knuckles; an invitation.

Sebastian's grin widened. "I have a few ideas."

"I don't have much time. So you better make every minute count."

***

Sebastian unlocked his front door with a snap of his fingers. Gestured her inside, his hand pressed into the small of her back. She inclined her head towards him, a smirk playing on her lips at the hollow politeness of his gesture. Knowing full well his intention of inviting her back to his flat was far from gentlemanly.

Exaggerated skirts shifted as she stepped inside. Soft lamp lights scattered around his living room sparked to life in welcome illuminating the small living area. Her formal attire looked out of place; more suited for high tea than the sparsely filled space Sebastian inhabited.

Files strewn across the long velvet settee, scattered teacups and candles burned down to the wick littered every available surface. He knew the larder would be just as barren save for some tea bags and a half-empty bottle of gin the department had cobbled together to purchase for his promotion. He didn't even like gin. The presence of female company always seemed to highlight just how every inch of his flat screamed bachelor.

Sebastian shrugged off his cloak, hooking it on the back of the door. Never once taking his eyes off her. Odd little creature that she was. Against the faint moonlight that trickled in from the arched window on the far wall, her face cloaked in darkness, she cast a dramatic silhouette.

Not quite her. No. But her dress despite its bulk could not disguise the dip of her waist, an alluring swell to her chest. With her face masked from view, he felt his drink-fogged mind teeter dangerously on an edge he would not let it wander past.

She'd bent down, and pinched the corner of a piece of parchment he'd discarded the previous night between her thumb and forefinger. Sebastian slipped his wand from the holster. With a flick, the paper pried itself free to rejoin the rest which were shuffling themselves back into their file before shooting across the room into the waiting drawer of his bureau. The gold lock clicked shut, locking them securely away with an audible snap.

Her head whipped around, her chin jutted out in irritation, and her eyes narrowed slightly into a glare. Sebastian shrugged, as he unbuckled the holster on his arm, placing it on the narrow kitchen island. "Classified information. I'm sure you understand."

Sebastian couldn't have nosy witches trawling through his case files. He'd seen plenty of Aurors sacked for lesser sins. And reporters from the Prophet certainly weren't above seduction tactics to get their stories. That knowledge did nothing however to stop the tingle that spread down his spine that the defiant look in her eye ignited in him.

"I suppose." She shrugged, a forced display of indifference. Before proceeding to further inspect his residence. Striding about like she owned the place and Sebastian was merely some troublesome tenant.

The cramped flat he'd started renting in London straight out of Hogwarts could hardly be considered a home. Sebastian never planned to make it one. Or stay for as long as he did. Merely a stepping stone, at the start of his career. Close to the Ministry, so he could collapse after a long day.

Eat. Sleep. Breath. Work.

That desperate desire to prove himself more than what he'd been. Never satisfied with his lot in life. By the grace of Merlin, he'd been given a second chance to make himself a man - his parents, his sister, that he could be proud of.

He had planned to settle down eventually. Fix the decaying bones of his parents' old house on the hill with her by his side. Both were now a faded, hopeless dream. Sebastian's life had rarely gone to plan.

Tracing a finger across the well-worn spines on his overstuffed bookshelf she pondered each title with interest. "Quite the collection you have. Some rather questionable titles you have here for a man of your profession."

"Special Ministry approval. They're charmed to be bound to my place of residence - before you get any ideas. Can never be too prepared in my line of work. Knowledge of magic of a more…delicate nature can be the difference between life and death."

Strictly speaking, this was not a lie. Any Auror worth his salt would have at least half the books in Sebastian's collection on curse-breaking, dark magic and deadly creatures. Admittedly, his robust library wasn't necessary for his career nor was all of it purely academic interest.

Eyewitness accounts of skinwalkers he'd picked up on a short trip to America, liaising with the MACUSA on their rising troll problem. Journals, written in the maddening scrawl of a witch who'd fancied herself a revolutionary scholar. Wanted to test the corruption dark magic had on the soul. Daft bugger used herself to test her theories. Now all that was left of her was crammed into a bachelor's bookcase.

Smallest in number and size, a thin collection of children's stories and a letter correspondence from crackpot conspiracists. He'd been too late to salvage anything that remained of Miriam Fig's research and this pitiful array was all that he'd discovered over the years with any reference to Ancient Magic. A small house fire could destroy what Sebastian could only assume was the largest collated materials on the subject.

It had been foolish to try to love her, but perhaps more still to hunt the vengeful wraith.

"Well read. Good career. Seems you are a rather eligible bachelor-"

Sebastian smiled moving closer towards her. "I'm not bad to look at either."

"Despite your proclivity for skulking around dingey bars. It's unusual to find a man such as yourself…unattached."

"What can I say - I'm married to my work. Not much time for anything else; not many witches would put up with the lifestyle long-term. Never been interested in marriage."

Liar.

She looked up at him through dark lashes, from how those sharp eyes stripped him back until he was raw and exposed - she scented his dishonesty. "Sounds like a lonely life."

"Depends on who you ask."

Sebastian leaned heavily on the shelf above her head, elbow brushing against well-loved spines. His calloused palm slipped around her waist, running up her side. Felt the curved bones of her corset under his thumb. Leaning in closer still, enough that his breath disturbed the loose curls around her temples. Her lips parted, tongue dancing along her bottom lip as she tilted her chin up towards him like a cat basking in a warm breeze.

She didn't waiver. Not a single flicker of hesitation in those sharp, piercing eyes. For a moment, Sebastian pitied the man who intended to marry her. But not enough to stop him from capturing her lips.

Tasting the tang of cheap whiskey in their mingled breath. Not a slither of remorse as her delicate hands found the nape of Sebastian's neck. Used chestnut curls to pull him closer to kiss him more deeply. Their breath was little more than stolen gasps for air and an opportunity for her tongue to seize and slip past parted lips.

Sebastian crowded her further against the bookshelf. Held tighter to the bunched fabric of her skirts, hands fumbling desperately to feel the shape it disguised. Frustrated by the garment, his lips left her mouth. Travelled down to her jaw, her breathing hitched, head tipped back to thunk against the shelf as Sebastian nipped and sucked at the column of her throat. A little too sharply. But she only pressed into him further. Blood and bruises bloomed wild across her skin as his teeth grazed along her heightened pulse.

He knew what it was like to try to ensnare creatures such as this. How they bit when cornered. Fool that he was, he desired to tame them, change their nature; almost as much as he craved to be bitten.

Maybe that was why he held her so firmly in his grasp. Petticoats balled in his fists, as he pressed himself awkwardly against her. Her dainty form didn't quite fit the stocky mould of his own.

Not that anyone witch or woman had since.

Not that she seemed to care. She pulled Sebastian in like he alone was hers to drink from. Like he belonged to her and she would bend and break him to fit her. Some part of him prayed she succeeded. He'd snap every bone in his body, boil down his sinew in the hope that when at last he healed - he would fit another.

Sebastian pressed his mouth into the crook of her shoulder and burrowed his face, inhaling deeply, as he mouthed at her skin. Soft and supple as an over-ripe peach. Desperately, pathetically trying and failing to make himself fit. But the bridge of his nose bumped harshly against her clavicle and his back ached from stooping.

He'd never melted into anyone since her. No matter how many times he tried with countless trysts with all the ways they reminded him of her in their laughs, smiles, and eyes - they were not her.

Pained groan against her shoulder. Cloth ripped as he tore past her outdated petticoats and the silk of her undergarments. Desperate hands kneaded at her bare flesh. Thigh. Hip. The curve of her arse. Every inch of her skin grew hot, flushed under his touch. If Sebastian had been in his right mind not addled, by drink and frustration he would have handed it to her; for such a wellbred lady, she did not startle easily or cringe from his working hands. With a strung-out whine, she simply displaced the torn fabric so Sebastian's knee pressed between her thighs could provide her with more friction.

Sebastian sank to his knees, hooking her thigh around his broad shoulder. Balanced precariously, her back pressed against the stacks and her leg suspended quivering. Heel dug between his shoulder blades as she sought stability. Her limbs were lean…soft. Delicate like a lamb. No coiled muscle battle worn and firm disguised under her skirts.

That did not stop Sebastian from groaning against the sparse hair as he nestled himself between her thighs. Her muscles clenched tighter. Not with apprehension. No. With blinding unhindered desire. Whining breathlessly, as she urged him to fulfil his role, drop any pretence to do what they came here for. This was no budding romance. And there was no time to pretend otherwise.

Sebastian's tongue darted out teasing the tip through her folds. Eagerly seeking out her bundle of nerves to curl his tongue under her hood. Satisfied, a mewl passed her lips to at last have Sebastian where she desired him most. Hips bucked and writhed with every broad stroke and teasing lick against her soaking entrance. Brown tresses tangled harshly in her grip, those neatly filed nails scratching encouragingly against his scalp.

Her taste was unfamiliar on Sebastian's tongue, but he only lapped at her more fervently. Desperate. As if he savoured enough of her desire for him - he could burn away the memories of sweeter nectars.

Bunching her skirt closer to her stomach, Sebastian's view of her was unobstructed. The collar pulled open where she'd made swift work of the buttons of her high neckline; they hung like loosely strung pearls cascading down her chest which heaved with every breath. Breasts dimpled against the restrictive tightly laced corset.

Sebastian's eyes flicked up to meet hers. Not the right shape or hue but that intensity to them. Storm raging across a riptide, Sebastian, vulnerable in their depth. He could drown in them and would do so gladly.

Blood rushed south, and Sebastian groaned low, pained. He sucked on her clit, coaxing more slick to coat his lips and chin. Hoping beyond hope that her eyes locked on his would flutter closed in pleasure. Her mouth was ajar, each drawn-out moan growing louder as she approached her peak. Clever calculating gaze fixed on Sebastian. He knew he was exactly where she wanted him. Prey to her predator. His cock strained and achingly hard because of it.

Her back arched against the stacks, toes curling against the centre of his back, legs shook with the strain to hold herself upright. Sebastian was relentless. He devoured the quivering nub, tongue teasing as he sucked. Her passionate cry was unrestrained, legs threatening to buckle bringing her down like a house of cards as she collapsed over the edge. Aftershock of pleasure rolled over her, he kept a firm grip on her hip as she rested more heavily against him. His desire for her is confusing and just as precarious.

Sebastian unhooked her leg from his shoulder, palms running along the backs of her calves. She was still propped up feebly holding herself against the bookcase. Pads of her fingers clutching pathetically at the shelves with the ball of her heel holding purchase on the floor.

Orgasm ebbing, softening her predatory edge. A smirk played at Sebastian's lips as he looked up at her once polished appearance now dishevelled. Rattling, with a lust-drunk gaze that defiant chin hanging slightly ajar as she greedily gulped down air.

She narrowed her eyes at his smug expression and gathered her composure before slipping her ruined dress from her shoulders letting it puddle at her feet. Nail digging under his chin as she beckoned Sebastian upwards, pulling him in.

It made Sebastian's heart beat wildly against his chest. A caged canary faced with a falcon.

Teeth grazed his bottom lip, tongue seeking his own. Sebastian's clothes fell away easily from his broad frame. His shirt was discarded, followed by breeches which tangled around his ankles as they fumbled towards the settee. Muffled grunts into her mouth every time her palm grazed his cock, hard and throbbing, through his undergarments. Sebastian moved to lie her swiftly across the settee. One hand pressed into the small of her back the other tangled in amongst the pins now falling loose from her hair.

Inexplicably, she moved faster than Sebastian thought she was capable of. Leg hooked around his ankle like a snake pulling him off balance. Backs of his knees connected with the settee as his legs buckled and Sebastian collapsed bodily onto cushions. Rarely with his extensive training did anyone get the jump on him.

Her lips curled as she observed the way his enlarged head twitched against his belly more eagerly. "Now, I think it's my turn." Laces from her corset pulled loose, she let the camisole shift to the floor with it. "-And you looked far too pretty beneath me."

As she straddled his lap, Sebastian spluttered on his groan and the intoxicating sensation of her wet centre against his shaft. Her palms were flat, braced against his chest, nails scratching at the coarse hairs that grew there. Every inch of her soft, naked flesh pressed against him. His hands settled on the curve of her hips, sliding along her flushed skin with hands that seemed too large.

She really was quite pretty. Sebastian just wished the parts that didn't remind him of her made his heart race as much as the ones that did.

She caught his lips, fingers cupped against his jaw, her mouth moving against his. Teeth and tongue. Hot breath came out in short dulcet pants as she greedily tasted the remnants of her arousal on his lips.

Her hand snaked down between them, taking Sebastian's throbbing length in her hand. He hissed, as her thumb smoothed over the leaking slit, aligning him with her entrance. Eyelashes fluttered a satisfied sigh, as she sank down, taking him inside of her. Dainty as she may appear, she appeared to relish the stretch to accommodate his size, almost as much as he did. So tight she gripped his cock, it almost sent him hurtling over the edge.

Barely giving herself time to adjust before she canted her hips. Weight shifting so she could slide up his shaft until only the head of his cock remained before sinking back down onto Sebastian's girth more demandingly. Needy grunts reverberated in Sebastian's chest as he matched her frantic desperate pace. Forehead braced on her chest as he bucked his hips into her tight core. Pebbled nipple caught between his lips, her head thrown back in a wanton moan as Sebastian ever so gently grazed the peak with his teeth.

Sebastian closed his eyes. Whiskey fog coupled with the godly feel of her clenched around him, he relaxed into her eager pace. Inhibitions lowered, his mind straying to the well-worn path he rarely let himself tread.

Face striking contorted in ecstasy; a savage beauty like lightning striking the ocean. Mallowsweet scent; that soothed like a botanist's herbal balm. How perfectly her body wrapped around his own as if by design. Sebastian's teeth pressed hard against his tongue as her name danced upon it. With his eyes closed, hands held back - that shameful part of him could pretend it was her.

"Sebastian," the witch moaned. He didn't remember giving her his name. Nor asking hers. The voice he heard was not that polite West Country lilt but one conjured from Hades - his divine pleasure and punishment.

Can't let it be her.

Sebastian forced his eyes open, to look at the woman from the bar. Her neat hair, narrow shoulders and thin top lip. Only to find the lines separating fantasy from reality blurred and contorted. His stomach lurched.

Maybe he'd had more to drink than he thought.

Whiskey had crowded and garbled his senses as well as his inhibitions. Sebastian's vision was merely blurred. She looked like her. Not just in her eyes but the sloping curve of her neck, the arch of her nose, her hair longer and tangling against the neat pins that had once held it back.

It's all the whiskey.

If he could bring himself to look away from her face for even one moment he would see the room spinning. But he couldn't look away.

Those keen eyes bore into him, locked with his own and he swore they changed colour. The fire that had been smouldering within sparked, roaring, melting her irises into that familiar hue.

He didn't just have to squeeze his eyes shut to see her and pretend it was her impossibly tight walls clenching around him with every thrust.

There she was.

"You," Sebastian spluttered, disbelief tight in his chest. "No. No- It can't be you. This can't be happening." Who cares if he sounded mad? His mind was spiralled and scrambled, desperate to bring back the visage of the woman from the bar and right himself. This face; her face didn't waver. She rolled her hips once more, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she cast her gaze down. Over her breasts and the faded scar that curled under the left from the crucio, he'd administered. Firm muscles of her legs earned from years of battle. Calloused hands of someone who knew little of comfort. All were once again her own.

Sebastian's world was spiralling, tipping on its axis. Tension in every muscle in his body. Still as beautiful as she was in his nightmares, even the ones where she tore out his heart. She clicked her tongue, amused then smiled. So wide, it bore too many teeth.

Fucking exquisite. Sebastian despised the way his heart faltered in his chest.

"Pity. I guess the kneazle's out of the bag," she purred, teeth raking sharp across his earlobe. So sharp it shocked his spiral back into sickening clarity like ice in his veins.

Like a shot, Sebastian wrapped his hand hard around her throat forcing her face away from him. Thumb pressed harshly into the corner of her jaw with his iron grip on her windpipe. Any sane woman would tremble to have his large hand like a vice around her throat in anger. Cower, under the venom in his eyes.

But she was far from sane; perhaps never had been. She gasped involuntarily choking around where his fingers so deeply pressed into her flesh, but the smile on her lips never faltered despite how he could feel the hammer of her blood against his fingertips.

"You should know I don't share," she wheezed. It wasn't the polite West Country drawl she'd adopted at the bar - but that feminine purr he knew far too well. Velvety, like a caress that sent shivers down his spine; and if it were possible simultaneously made his blood run cold and his cock impossibly stiffer where it was sheathed deep within her. She whimpered approvingly, hot breath ghosting his freckled cheeks.

"Fuck- how did you-" Choking on his groan as she expertly rolled her hips, grinding on his cock. Evil, manipulative witch. She knew exactly how to turn practically every rational thought in Sebastian's brain to smoke.

"Polyjuice. She was pretty don't you think? You seemed to like fucking her while it lasted. Maybe not as much as that curvy redhead from a few months ago...I had bruises on my thighs for weeks."

Somewhere deep in his psyche, Sebastian knew he should push her off. Bind her. Gag her. Put as much distance between himself and her and the mixed-up way she made him feel. Preferably in a cell in the deepest part of Azkaban the Ministry had long ago allocated for her when they signed the warrant for her arrest. At that moment, over the cacophony screaming through his head the only coherent thought was how to keep her desperately bouncing on his cock.

"I thought it was my turn to have some unsanctioned fun."

No - rose, bubbled and died in his throat. Caught somewhere amongst the shameful rasping groan as she began to rhythmically rock her hips. Never quite releasing her entirely, but Sebastian's grip on her throat loosened as his muscles slackened in shameful pleasure.

Using every bit of her newfound leash, she leaned forward to kiss him. Sin, like ambrosia on his tongue. Lips slotted against him, they moved in perfect harmony to a melody he wished had never been composed on his bones.

She wrapped around him as if the wild thing that she had always been had sprouted from the earth, and curled her tendrils around him. Or rather, like a constant wave beating against him she'd worn his surface. It was a marvel he hadn't crumbled into her sooner.

"You're mine you know," she cooed, her breath hot against his ear.

"I am not," Sebastian spat. But try as he might to deny it, curse her until his final breath - his words rang hollow. And he loathes himself all the more for it. She was not his any longer, but something else. Twisted by cruelty and power that simply wore the face of the woman he once loved.

Shame stirred in his gut; desire coursed through his blood.

"Denying it doesn't make it any less true. You know me blind. When my face is not my own. Fate has bound us, Sebastian. Just as I would know you in any life."

Sebastian gritted his teeth, cheek pressed against her sternum. Fingers digging into her shoulder blades, as he pounded his cock up into her harder, faster. If he was stronger, he would not be prey to her illicit designs for him - but he was not. She keened, greedy to take all he could give her. Consume him entirely if she could. Sebastian closed his eyes and cursed himself for being weak.

Vision narrowing, Sebastian groaned, low and pitiful into the curve of her neck. Ashamed of what he knew was coming. "I hate you," he cursed. Repeated it like a mantra, his lips against her sweat-salted skin as if he could transcribe the words onto her flesh.

Deep plunges into her warmth growing erratic as Sebastian's coil tightens. Her body clenched, tightening around him, with every thrust teased against her sweet spot coaxing more slick onto his cock. His punishing words merely rolled off her curves like water off a duck's back.

"S-Sebastian," her hoarse cry pierced through his resolve. Sebastian bit into her neck trying and failing to hold back from the precipice of the inevitable. Unwilling to surrender any more of himself to her. It only served to send her hurtling over the cliff. His cock buried deep inside of her, her head thrown back, cunt quivering as her climax broke. Orgasm, wracked through her in waves. Engulfing Sebastian's every sense.

Fire and Brimstone. Gentle breezes and mallowsweet.

Beauty. Terror.

Rhythm faltering, Sebastian's hips spluttered as that mounting coil finally snapped. Her name on his lips, her scent on his skin. Everything that remained of Sebastian Sallow was consumed entirely by her. He came hard - with a broken pathetic whine that forced itself from his body as he spilt inside of her.

It was no little death - it was all-consuming. A part of him would never come back from. Another piece of his soul surrendered along with what was left of his dignity.

Sebastian fought for breath. Unforgiving waters filled his chest, ice seized his joints, heart thundered as dark edges clouded his vision, threatening to drown out the light and sound. Choking on his saliva he wheezed, shoulders heaved forward violently. Fresh tears pricked in his eyes.

She shushed his soothingly, thumb tracing idle patterns on his skin with a sickening gentleness that curdled his stomach. He whined pathetically against her chest but she only gripped him harder. Fingers carded through his hair as she hummed a sweet tune peppering kisses to the crown of his chestnut hair.

Perhaps, in another life, he had the strength to overcome the guilt and sickness now seizing his bones. In another, perhaps there was no deception to be ashamed of.

He wasn't sure how long they sat entwined, soft cock still inside her, his spend leaking onto his thighs matting in the hair. When at last Sebastian's violent sobbing eased he felt the enchantment stretch across his body, taunt ropes strapped his arms to his sides, and bound his ankles. A chaste kiss against his temple as she slid from his lap.

Sebastian watched her and tried to pretend for a second, that he was not bound, she was not mad and hips swaying hypnotically as she pranced naked around their flat as she did every Sunday evening. Not his. Theirs. Another life, unstained by dark magic where she was still his.

Fussing with her dress, eyebrows pinched together, frowning as she examined the shredded yellow gown. She sighed, holding the unlaced corset over her breasts, gathering up the remnants to haul them to the kitchen island. She found his wand, with its emerald and onyx handle, the one that had belonged to his paternal great-grandfather. Back and forth she toyed with it in her hands.

"Put that down." A feeble attempt at a threat from a man bound, naked, cheeks streaked with stale tears. Tight from salt they felt stretched like a drum.

"You ruined my dress," she pouted. "The least you can do is help me fix it."

Traitorously, Sebastian's wand didn't so much as shudder in retaliation. It obeyed her easily, stitching up the splintered seams, her corset tightened, cinching at her waist. Her hairpins reorganised themselves. She looked almost like her old self, the girl she'd been at school, with a spark of fire in her eyes that mirrored his own.

"Before you go running off to the next little witch who bats her eyelashes at you, Bash. Try to remember - I don't share." She placed his wand back on the counter and slipped a canteen from her purse. She drank deeply. Gagging, hand smacking into her chest to keep down whatever foul liquid it contained.

If Sebastian had still been drunk the way her face bubbled like stew on a boil would have turned his stomach. Her lips thinned, her hair shrunk back into her scalp, her scars paled and her muscles softened. The woman from the Pub returned, exactly as he'd met her. It did nothing to quell the sickness churning in his gut.

"Au revoir mon amour." She was gone as quickly as she came, but her presence lingered like a gaping, festering wound.

Sebastian sat in the dark. Hatred for her that he cultivated in public and the private yearning he tended to as it grew like persistent weeds in his garden he tended had given way to emptiness. A void that for a time he was content to let swallow him whole as he stared at the cracks in his floor. Mourning the woman he'd loved. But most he mourned for himself, for all she took from him.

Shadows inched across the floor as dawn eventually broke. Long after the bindings had dissolved. Sebastian hadn't slept or moved for hours and his joints stiff, groaned as he got to his feet. He trudged to his bathroom and ran the water until it was scalding. Intent on scrubbing his skin raw. As if she could un-touch him.

#Please mind the tags #dark fic #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 7 months

Text

Enemies With Benefits (2)

Admit It

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Summary: Enemies. That was what you were. She was an Avenger, you were a criminal. You should hate her, she should hate you. So why do you love the feeling of her skin pressed against yours? Moans spilling from her lips? The taste of her on your tongue?

Casual, rough sex. That was all it was supposed to be but soon feelings start to get involved. Would something so scandalous be able to last?

Warnings/Tags: Smut 18+ MDNI, Strap on, Jealousy, Enemies, Rough sex, Dirty talk, Angry Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Wanda's Power's during Sex

General Masterlist | Enemies with Benefits Masterlist

Chapter 2- Admit It

---

Panic and anger flooded through Wanda as she frantically searched for the USB in her dress. The fear of letting Steve down another time for not completing a mission weighed heavily on her mind, the Captain trusting her with this mission and letting her do it instead of waiting for Natasha, who would normally have done a mission like that, to come back from her two week stake out with Clint.

Frustration with you also clouded her mind, this the third time you had stolen intel from her during a mission and at least the seventh time you caused her to not complete a mission. It had always ended in hot, rough sex (not that she was complaining) but that caused her to be unaware of your sneaky actions.

Clenching her jaw, she walked back into the club, her eyes scanning the dance floor to see if you were still there. She saw the blonde from earlier making out with some man, the kiss sloppy making her look away with a grimace. After a few moments of searching, she realised you must have left and quickly made her way out of the club, one place set on her mind.

***

Your body moved with the music, your hand holding a glass of whiskey while the other unbuttoned your shirt as you were getting warm. You briefly looked over at your laptop, the files from the USB almost downloaded so you quickly moved to grab the small box and tag. You neatly wrote ‘To My Little Witch’ on the tag, knowing how mad Wanda would get once the Avengers received your little present and downed the rest of your drink. The liquid burnt the back of your throat but you didn't care as you watched the files finish downloading and took out the device and placed it in the box.

Just as you were tying the bow on the box (yes the bow on the box, you had to be dramatic) a loud knocking sound was heard on your door. You turned off the music, now able to hear how loud the pounding on the door was and chuckled at the knowledge of who it was.

“Hello my little witch,” you say as the door opens, her eyes glowing red as she looks at you in anger. She didn't respond to you, only pushing you into your apartment and slamming the door shut. Her hand found your neck and she swiftly pinned you to the door, her magic holding your hands against the wooden door. “Anything I can do for you?” you tease, her grip tightening around your throat making you shut up.

“You,” her finger roughly slammed against your chest, “Need to stop fucking my missions up.”

“The only thing I’m fucking is you little witch,” Wanda tilts her head at you, a daring look in her eye to make you continue, “It’s not my fault you’re easy to steal from.”

“Give it back. Now. ” Her voice is laced with anger but you can’t help but annoy her more.

“Or what? Gonna send your friends after me?” She remained silent for a moment, thinking to herself and looking around. Her eyes soon met your unbuttoned shirt, your toned body on show for her along with your black lace bra. You caught what she was staring at and chuckled, her gaze snapping to your smug face. “I’ll make you a deal. Admit that you were jealous earlier, and I'll give you whatever you want.”

Wanda had to stop the trail of thoughts that filled her mind with the promise of whatever she wanted and focussed on fixing her mistake, even if that meant ignoring the throbbing heat building between her legs

“Just give me the USB,” she pleaded, her voice no longer angry.

“Just admit it then,” you rasped out while her body moved closer to yours subconsciously. Wanda clenched her jaw, her pride not worth failing the team again so she moved to whisper in your ear, trying to have the same effect as you have on her.

“I was jealous of her,” she purred, her magic slowly releasing your hands.

“More,” you whispered, still trapped against the door.

“I was jealous of how she had your hands on her, your mouth whispering words only I should hear,” you moved your leg forward so it slotted between her thighs, a breathy sigh escaping her. “It should have been me in your arms, not her.”

“Good girl,” you whispered back, your hands now free to move, immediately going to her hips, “Now what do you want?” Wanda thought for a moment before smirking at you.

“I want to ride you, hard,” you groaned at her words and the feeling of her hand moving from your neck to trail her fingers over your jaw. “Then, you can do what you do best and fuck me,” her thumb glides over your bottom lip, dragging it down and letting go. “And finally, you can give me the USB.”

“So greedy,” you whisper before kissing her, hands threading through your hair as yours went to the back of her thighs to lift her up. You carried her to the bedroom, placing her down and immediately unzipping the dress so you could pull it down. Her hands pushed off your shirt, scratching down your back causing you to hiss into the kiss. “You know, I should be punishing you for being so careless,” you murmur as you kiss along her jaw, “Losing such a valuable item.” You find yourself quickly on your back with her on top, strong, powerful legs straddling your waist as she glared down at you.

“And I should punish you for taking it from me, maybe I should tie you to the bed and use you as much as I want to in return for your actions,” she purrs, her hands unclasping her bra to show off her perfect breasts.

“You already said what you wanted, no take backs,” you murmur, her eyes rolling at you before you take a perk nipple into your mouth. Her mouth parts to moan while her hands clutch at your shoulders, your tongue swirling around her nipple before letting it go to do the same with the other. You only stop your actions when she climbs off your lap, swiftly pulling your trousers down and walking over to the drawer to pull out the strap on. You put it on as quickly as possible as the witch pulls down her drenched panties and returns to your lap.

“Fuck,” she groans out as she lowers herself down on the toy, your hands going to guide her hips but are restrained by her magic. She gives you a mischievous smirk that swiftly changes to an open mouth, moans tumbling out as you thrust your hips up to bury the toy into her. Her hands grip onto your thighs as she leans back slightly, her hips moving up and down the large plastic cock. You watch mesmerised as the toy is swallowed by her pussy, her arousal coating it and dripping onto your skin.

Soon, she’s bouncing on your lap like it’s the last time, the whole bed shaking as she brings her hips down onto yours. Pants and moans spill from her lips while she rides you into oblivion, her hips moving frantically as she nears her orgasm. With fervour, she moves her body upwards before slamming back down on the toy before sticking to rolling her hips hurriedly and clenching around you. Her hands dig into your thighs, leaving crescent shapes to mark you of your time together.

“I’m so close,” she moans out, releasing your hands so one can travel to her clit. You oblige her silent demand and circle the sensitive bud, her hips twitching in your lap as she gets even closer. Her hands move to grope at her own chest, pinching and pulling at her nipples.

“Come for me,” you husk out, her replying by screaming your name and tensing on top of you. Gradually, her hips slow, riding out the aftershocks, her body moving forwards and leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is messy, her too out of breath to properly make out with you. You take this as the sign to roll you two over, a whimper coming from her at the action while her hands go to grip at your back. “Still want me to fuck you?”

“What a stupid question,” she teases, pulling you down for another heated kiss. You quickly pull back, pulling out till only the tip is in before slamming your hips forwards. She moans into your mouth as you pound her into the mattress, her hands clutching at the sheets near her while you kiss at her neck when she can’t keep the kiss going. You snap your hips into her, panting against her neck as you feel the base of the toy hitting your clit. “Shit, you’re making me feel so good,” she sighs out, back arching as you thrust in harder.

“You look so pretty stretched out for me,” you mutter, moving back to ghost your mouth against her lips. You swallow her moans, her hands moving down to your back, scratching down making you hiss, then to your ass as you drill the toy into her. She pulls back from the kiss when you hit a spot deep inside her, head thrown back into the pillow showing off her neck and sharp jawline.

“Harder,” she begs and you want to scoff at her, is making the whole bed shake not hard enough? You grip at her thigh as she wraps her legs around you, pressing hard enough to leave a bruise that she’ll enjoy looking at another time, and change to slower but harder and even deeper thrusts. Sokovian curse words spill from her lips while you fuck her mercilessly, the sound sending another wave of arousal down to your core.

“I’m close,” you murmur, the friction against your clit having you so close. Her mouth reaches yours and with one final thrust, you climax, her following straight after. Your hips stutter as you experience the aftershocks, her body twitching under yours as her legs shake slightly.

You pull out when she is ready, discarding the toy and making a mental note to clean it later and leave the room to grab her a glass of water. Just because you’re supposed to hate her doesn’t mean you can’t be nice to her, right? When you return, she takes the glass with a quizzical look before exhaustion decides to take over her. You’re not sure what to do when she quickly drifts off to sleep, curled up against your pillow so you place the box with the USB on the other pillow and quietly retreat.

“Goodnight, my little witch,” you murmur, leaving your apartment with your laptop, ready to go through all the files while Wanda sleeps peacefully in your bed.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda x you #marvel fanfiction #eventual smut #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #smut #strappon #dom reader #dom/sub #marvel smut #avengers #gxg #gxg smut #wlw ns/fw

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fieldofdaisiies · 6 months

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Halloween Party

ship: Theodore Nott x Reader type: fluff/suggestive word count: 1,8k words warnings: underage (they are 17) smoking, drinking, sneaking out summary: Y/N and Theo attend a Halloween party hosted by the Slytherins and later on decide to sneak away

Your heart is pounding vividly. Music is sounding all around you, and in your ears.

You stand at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, excitement coursing through your veins as you take in the scene before you.

The Halloween party is in full swing, the room in front of you a wicked wonderland full of students dressed up as monsters, spiderwebs decorating every corner, and ghosts adorning the dark emerald walls.

The sconces' soft glow casts eerie shadows across the room. Jack-o'-lanterns flicker all over the room.

In the centre of the room, is burning brightly, its flames casting a warm, inviting light upon the room. On the table in front of it there is a a lavish spread of Halloween treats like chocolate frogs, liquorice wands, and pumpkin pasties.The scents of these sweet and baked goods mingles with the with the musky aroma of fire whiskey (someone must have snuck it in) and the earthy notes of pumpkin juice.

You look around and spot your friends, all in their Halloween finery. Draco is dressed in an casual attire, not costume though. Pansy is a mysterious witch (more than usual, now dressed up and styled). Enzo, with a wicked grin on his lips, has decided to put on a werewolf costume, his body adorned with realistic fur and fangs.

And then there is Theo. The object of all your desires and your heart. Your boyfriend. And he looks absolutely dashing, with a mischievous smile playing on his lips. He decided to dress up as a vampire, his fangs visible, his hair neatly combed back. He looks stunning, you think and pull your lower lip between your teeth.

His dark eyes lock onto yours, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. He flicks away his cigarette, of course making sure it is no longer burning and approaches you.

"Baby, you look stunning," Theo says, his voice low and smooth. "I can't wait to…let my teeth sink into your soft skin." He leans in a little, kisses your cheek and then your neck. He draws in a deep inhale, your scent and leans back with a smirk on his lips.

You blush, feeling a rush of warmth at his compliment. You, just like Pansy dressed up as a witch, still wearing your robes, but the skirt is a little shorter, the blouse unbuttoned, the tie hanging loosly around your neck. 'All the other days you are a good witch, on Halloween you are a sexy witch,' is what Pansy had told you when you had gotten ready. You had laughed at her, but you have to admit you absolutely love the outfit and how it fits you. And how Theo looks at you — like he would truly love to devour you.

"Well, you Mr Nott, look very dashing yourself." You bounce onto your toes and peck his lips. He tastes like Fire Whiskey — musky and sweet.

He grins and offers you his arm, and you accept it with a smile. Together, you make your way over to a cozy corner of the room where a small group has gathered. Blaise Zabini is talking about their last Quidditch game (one they obviously won), his smooth, deep voice captivating the the people gathered there. He uses his hands, gesturing, to make his point even more clear.

"Fuck Gryffindor," Draco chimes in when Blaise finishes, pouring a shot of fire whiskey for himself. His housemates are cheering, and so is Blaise. You watch them with amusement and think to yourself, men…

Draco offers Theo another two glasses, one for your boyfriend, one for you. Theo takes the drinks and hands one to you, his fingers brushing yours. The contact sends a pleasant shiver down your spine and makes warmth erupt in your hands. "A toast to Halloween, and to the most beautiful witch at Hogwarts," he says, raising his glass.

You clink your glass with Theo's, the fiery liquid warming your throat as you take a sip and then lean in to kiss him, this time a little deeper, tasting the whiskey on both your lips.

When you lean back, the room seems to blur, and you find yourself lost in Theo's eyes. He leans closer, his breath soft against your ear. "Dance with me, Y/N?"

Obviously you say yes and follow him into the middle of the room, next to the table with the lavish goods and soon you are joined by your friends. A bewitched gramophone is playing a beautiful music and you sway together, lost in each other's company, his hands on your hips, yours on his strong shoulders.

Laughter and happy fills the room as you all dance, big smiles gracing your faces. Everyone swirls everyone around but soon your return to your boyfriend. After a few dances, you and Theo make your way back to your cozy corner, and he pulls you onto his lap, your back perfectly fitting against his chest. You hum in delight, feeling his hard chest press against your back.

His hands sneak around your waist, over your belly and he pulls you closer, his lips brushing from your collar bone up to your ear. You shiver at the sensation and jerk a little in his lap. "Theo," you whisper, voice tinged with reprimand.

But your boyfriend does not care. He loves showing everyone that you are his. Normally, he is not so keen on the public display of affection, but it always changes when he drinks something. Then everyone has to see you are his, and only his.

Theo leans in closer, his voice a sultry whisper that only you can hear when he says, "Lets sneak out to the Black Lake."

You bite down on your lip and turn to look at him. His eyes have darkened, yet the promise of what would expect you shines brightly in them.

The idea sends shivers of excitement down your spine. And so you nod. It is exciting and thrilling, sneaking out with him in the middle of the night. It is not like you haven't met at night in either the common room or a broom closet before, but this is different. You are leaving the castle!

Out of the sight of the others, you slip away with Theo, your hand in his. A wave of thrill and ecstasy washes over you as you tiptoe through the hallways, the large corridors of the castle, hoping to go unnoticed. You really hope no painting will give you away, revealing you to the headmaster or some teachers. But you always stay close to the walls and the ground and truly manage to sneak out of the castle. But you stay calm until your far enough that no one inside the castle could spot or hear you.

The Black Lake already awaits you as the chilly night air greets you. The moonlight casts a silvery path across the ground and leads you towards the lake.

Theo removes his cloak and spreads it out on the ground for you to sit down. Once seated he immediately pulls you into his arms and kisses you. And when your lips part, his face stays within inches of yours and he looks at you. Just looks at you and it is all he does for a very long moment.

Until he brings his thumb up and brushes it over your lower lip. "You are so fucking beautiful, Y/N. I am the luckiest man alive." His voice is breathless, a whispered promise to love you until the very last day of your life.

Your breath mingles with Theo's when you lean in closer, lips nearly on his. "And I am the luckiest woman alive." Your lips curl when his press against them.

His fingers brush against yours, and then move lower. Without much effort, Theo pulls you onto his lap, your bodies melding. A gasp parts your lips, but he does not let you escape, his hand buried in the hair at the back of your head, moving your head even closer, his tongue simultaneously parting your lips. He groans when you allow him entrance, his other hand sliding down to grab your butt. "The sexiest little witch I have ever seen," he rasps against your lips and kisses you again.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the kiss, the world around you fading into the background. Everything turns into insignificance as you give yourself to him, your bodies becoming one near the lake.

"Theo," you whisper, a hint of mischief in your voice.

He nips at your lower lip and then lifts his darkened gaze to you. "Hm?"

"Didn't you say something about wanting to sink your teeth into my—"

He does not even let you finish, flipping you over, but of course making sure you land softly on the ground and his coat. His finds his place on top of you, your hips falling open, his hands braced on either side of you, lips and teeth attached to your neck. At first his kisses you, softly, gently, then he graces his teeth over your skin until he starts to bite down softly, nibbling.

You know only magic will be able to conceal the terrible love bight he is giving you, but it is so worth it. Your back arches a little, pressing against him, against the hard ridge of his hardening length and a moan parts your lips. He groans in approval, both at the sounds leaving you and the feel of your body against his.

He devours you, worships you. Praises you. Tells you how beautiful you are, over and over again. Your bodies come together under the moonlight, accompanied by the soft sounds of the water of the lake and the some owls howling in the nearby forest.

Only a long time after, you return to the party, hand in hand, with secret smiles that only the two of you share on your lips. You know your hair is ruffled, cheeks flushed, costumes no longer looking as they did before you snuck out. Your lipstick is smudged and Pansy flashes you a knowing grin when she spots the two of you re-entering the party.

You only roll your eyes at her, but eventually have to grin.

"I love you," you tell Theo, kiss his cheek and then let go off his hand to walk over to your friends — Pansy and Astoria. You also want to spend the party with them, or part of it. Since you've started going out with Theo you've been spending less them with them and you miss them. Greatly. So, some time this evening has to be reserved for them. And you know that they are sitting on hot coals, waiting for you to tell them everything.

Later on your once again joined by the boys and the night continues, filled with laughter, chatter and a few more drinks.

It is a wonderful night to remember, full of love and happiness. Theo wraps his arm around you once again, bringing you in close. "But I am sure I love you more, my stunning witch." He kisses your cheek and intertwines your hands.

#theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #slytherin #slytherin boys #harry potter #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #astoria greengrass #theodore nott

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bonniesfamiliar · 3 months

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DIMENSION TRAVEL STORY IDEA: Summary: Harriet "Harry" James Potter has travelled to an alternate dimension during a spell gone wrong (Kreacher's actually responsible cuz he cares about Harry since she's the Lady of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black) Harriet knows it's an alternate dimension cuz she finds a newspaper stand and lo and behold, who's on the front cover? Tom. Fucking. Riddle. But not the ugly Voldemort Tom Riddle she killed. No this is young Tom Riddle who grew up FINE AS HELL.

And he's on the front page cuz he's The Minister of Magic and guess what he's talking about.

Dumbledore.

He's talking about Dumbledore.

And not manipulative gramps Dumbledore whose beard is longer than my hair.

No.

We're talking about this one

You know why he's talking about this Dumbledore?

Because Albus. Percival. Fucking. Dumbledore decided to become the epitome of "Be Gay, Do Crime," with Gellert Grindelwald, his husband.

DUMBLEDORE IS A DARK LORD WITH HIS HUBBY

So Harriet is obviously freaking out and does the right thing.

She goes to a pub and drinks her sorrows away in Scottish Whiskey, (Thank you, Minny)

But Harry never makes reasonable decisions so when she finds a quill and paper, guess what she does.

She writes to Misinter Riddle.

But the drama doesn't end there.

Whenever Harriet does anything, whether she writes or talks about Tom Riddle, she doesn't speak in English.

She talks in Pareseltongue.

(Cuz she and tom are the only Parselmouths. I think.)

So Parseltongue.

Harriet writes in parseltongue to the Minister of Fucking Magic on his wrongdoings in her universe.

The letter literally looks like this:

ssss ssss sssssssss ss ssssss s sss ssssssss ssssss sss sss ss ssss ssssssss ssssssss ssss ssssss sssssss ss ss sssssssss and that transcribes to

"Dear Lord Voldemort, or should I say Minister Riddle, you are an ugly noseless hairless evil snakey bastard in my dimension,"

and cuz she's spiteful, she signs it off with "You-Know-Who"

But the thing is Harriet never mentioned her name or who her parents were.

So when Minister Riddle receives this letter, he freaks out and then does everything he can to find this person.

Not to kill them.

But to woo them.

This kind, thoughtful person has travelled from another dimension just to stop him from becoming evil.

AND THEY'RE A PARSELMOUTH.'

THEY'RE OBVIOUSLY HIS SNAKE MATE. (cuz he killed all of the Gaunts and Riddles so they're not family)

You can bet ur ass he was squealing to Nagini at the thought of having another Parselmouth in the world with him.

He's obsessed.

(He's not tom riddle if he doesn't have possessive issues and his jealousy issues are just as bad.🤭🤭🤭🥰🥰🥰😩😩😩)

Like it's not a want.

It's a need.

He needs the writer of this letter to be with him forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and-

You probably get the idea.

Anyway, 1 year goes by.

Tom Riddle: I MUST FIND THIS PERSON AND MAKE THEM MINE

Harriet Potter: *forgets about even writing the letter*

Tom is growing more obsessed as the days go by and then he meets a woman at a charity ball held for idk an organisation for potieneers? Potion Masters?

She's chatting up with Lord and Lady Dagworth-Granger cuz she's been working with them cuz they remind her of Hermione and she needed a job.

Anyway, he approaches the couple in hopes of talking to them and Harriet sees Minister Riddle approaching and quickly moves away to head to the drinks table.

And then lets out a breath of relief when she realises he wasn't heading for her.

She schmoozes for a few more minutes before calling it quits and heading out for fresh air.

The party is at the Dagworth-Granger's manor so she goes out to the gardens.

And hears a cry for help.

Her Gryffindor instincts push her to run towards the sound of danger.

But her Slytherin side made her hide behind the wall from where the cry of help had come from.

It was a witch being harassed by two wizards.

One of the wizards was holding her wand, taunting her.

While the other had begun to take off her outfit.

Before it could go any further, she brought the men's attention to her and with a flick of her wrist, Harriet had the men on their knees.

She then walked over to the one holding the witch's wand and grabbed it out of his hand, accidentally snapping his wrist in the process.

She gave the witch her wand back and accepted the shaky hug she received.

Harriet waited until the witch was out of sight before she turned to the men and smiled, watching as their faces fell into horror as they saw the fangs in her mouth.

(I'm in love with the prompt by a post on tumblr where Basilisk!Harry is hugging Kneazle!Hermione and Dragon!Ron also wants his cuddles. I can't find the person who made it but I've lived by the idea that these would be their animagus forms if they ever performed the spell like James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew had done to become illegal animagi for Remus Lupin)

Harriet rips into their throats, feeds on them and then turns their bodies into ash with the fiendryfire spell.

She grabbed a mirror from her purse to erase the blood from her face and clothes and began to walk away lest anyone come looking for the wizards.

But, Harriet suddenly slammed into what felt like a wall.

A very warm wall.

Regaining her bearings, Harriet looked up to notice that the "wall" was MINISTER RIDDLE.

AND HE WAS HOLDING HER ARMS.

"Minister Riddle, what are you doing here?" She said pasting a smile on her face.

Shift of POV:

Minister Riddle internally sighed at being stuck in another ball instead of being at home, analysing the letter once again.

He was certain it was a woman who sent it as there was a red lipstick kiss on the paper after it was signed sss-ssss-sss (You-Know-Who)

His thoughts are cut off when Lady Dagworth-Granger asks her husband where Harriet is.

Who is Harriet? he muses but when Lord Dagworth-Granger offers to look in the gardens, Tom leaps at the chance to run away from the party.

He goes into the gardens aimlessly walking around for a few minutes, lost in his thoughts of his mysterious parselmouth when a witch comes out of nowhere and collides with him.

He uprighted her by placing his hands on her arms and looked on curiously as she seemed to freeze in place when she looked up to see that it was he she bumped into.

Tom Riddle is the one to freeze when she speaks.

"Minister Riddle, what are you doing here?" She says an innocent smile on her face as if she had no idea his whole world had just flipped on its axis.

Parseltongue.

She's speaking in parseltongue.

She's his parselmouth.

The one from another dimension.

But he had to clarify so he replies honestly for the first time in his life, in parseltongue, "I've been looking for you,"

"Searching for me? Whatever for?"

A boyish smile widens on his face before he forces it into a polite smile.

"The Lord and Lady Dagworth-Granger have been searching for you, Miss Harriet I believe you are?" He reverts to English to test if she notices the change but she doesn't.

She just replies in English, "Ah, I see. I disappeared for too long with my break from the stuffiness of the ball and yes, I am Harriet."

Harriet, he muses in his mind, no last name to give for me.

She extends her gloved hand for him to shake but Tom riddle reaches for both of her hands and turns them over to kiss them gently and forces himself not to give into the urge of nuzzling into her hands (well not yet at least) and without letting them go, he straightens to his full height to tower over her (giving him a thrill at knowing she was shorter, meaning he could easily pick her up and carry her, be it over his shoulders or bridal style) and replies, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harriet. No last name?"

(Harriet has been wearing gloves cuz of the 'I must not tell lies' scars that cover her hands.)

Harriet smiles teasingly towards him and his cold heart thaws ever so, "I couldn't decide on a last name and I've decided I like the mysterious aura it gives me,"

Or maybe she couldn't risk using her real last name because she was from a different dimension, Tom muses in his mind, Nevertheless, Harriet Riddle has a lovely ring to it.

Harriet Potter: *staring confused at Tom Riddle as he smiles down at her

Tom Riddle: *Winter would be a lovely time to get married, wouldn't it?

I'm stopping here cuz it's a summary, not a story. Yes, I'm Evil.

Tell me if you like it tho.

I was this close *makes an inch between her fingers* to making this a Soulmate AU story.

Think of the angst that Harriet would go through all her life knowing that her soulmate's words to her are: I've been looking for you

And it's an alternate hotter version of Tom Riddle, AKA THE BAD GUY WHO MURDERED HER PARENTS

And think of how Harriet's words had motivated Tom his entire life to do his best to work hard (and cheat death) to live long enough for his soulmate to see him one day at a place be it a library or a gala or a hallway and ask him: Minister Riddle, what are you doing here?

Huh.

Maybe I should make them soulmates.

I need a timeline. fuck.

Um.

Riddle was educated at Hogwarts from 1938 to 1945, and was sorted into Slytherin House, a nod to his ancestor Salazar Slytherin.

Making Tom 34 cuz 1927 is the year Tom was born in if he went to Hogwarts in 1938 which would make him 11 in 1938 and 38-11 is 27 so 1927 is when he was born.

61-27=34 so Harriet is in 1961 but cuz of the time skip tom is 35 years old in 1962

Harriet was born in 1980

The Second War technically began on 24 June, 1995, though was not officially announced by the Ministry until nearly a year later on 17 June, 1996, and ended on 2 May, 1998, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, after the death of the Dark Lord.

Which made Harriet 18 in 1998, 24 in 2004, 24 in 1961 and 25 in 1962

but she deserves peace so the year Kreacher sent her back was 2004 which would make her 24 cuz he's horrified that she hasn't attempted to romance anyone since Cedric Diggory.

Tbh, if he was my bf I would never love again.

But then hubby "I would burn the world down for you and rebuild a new one from its ashes" tom riddle is here and I'm like Cedric who?

But none of them compare to (long list of titles, I'll research later.) Harriet James Potter.

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hlficlibrary · 19 days

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HL Fic Library 💕 Established Relationship

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find our other recs here.

💕 We Are Only Just Beginning by @afirethatcannotdie {E, 129k}

In the dim light of a dorm kitchen, Harry Styles meets a boy who flips his life upside down. Three years later, he's a senior in college, ready to take on the world with the love of his life by his side. And then Louis Tomlinson admits he doesn't know what he wants to do after college after all, and Harry's world flips again, this time not so pleasantly. He can't imagine his life without Louis, but he's starting to worry he might have to.

A college AU featuring lots of domestic sappiness, waffles, tattoos, late nights and early mornings, and above all, Louis and Harry against the world.

💕 Been Together Since Way Back When by @alivingfire {E, 95k}

Louis Tomlinson is a law student with a simple but effective four step plan: 1. Finish law school. 2. Get hired somewhere awesome. 3. Marry his best friend and boyfriend of two years, Harry. 4. Live happily ever after.

Harry Styles doesn't know what he wants to do with his life, where he wants to go, who he wants to be, or if he even wants the college degree he's almost completed. All he does know is who he’ll be with forever, as long as Louis wants to keep him around.

Or: the painfully realistic college au where everyone's poor, lovesick, tired of school, terrified of the future, and still having the greatest times of their lives.

💕 Such Good Luck by @casuallyhl {E, 66k}

Louis smiles at Harry’s words, leaning into his touch. “Tell me again.”

Smiling, Harry takes Louis into his arms. Pressing gentle kisses to his face, Harry murmurs, “In six months’ time, I will have my twenty-fifth birthday. On that day, my portion of the inheritance will become legally mine. And I plan that very day to announce to my family that I have found love.” Harry chuckles as he runs his lips lightly along Louis’ cheekbone. “That, in fact, I found love when I was twenty-one years old, and that I have loved and been loved every day since.”

Or, an Edwardian AU where Harry is a young aristocratic lord and Louis is a working class dairy farmer. Secrets are a necessary part of their relationship, but Louis has one that could topple their whole world.

💕 Swallow My Words (series) by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf {T, 41k}

Senior year is stressful. On top of balancing school work, family, and friends, Harry's lacrosse team is vying to win the state championship, he's not sure where he's going to college yet, and he has a secret boyfriend that no one can know about.

💕 yeah, he's a looker (but i really think it's guts that matter most) by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain {E, 40k}

Five times Oli was asked to do something that was outside of his job description, and the one time he didn't have to be asked.

💕 Lover Boy by @brightgolden {E, 27k}

“I’d love to meet your lover boy one day,” Lottie says suddenly as she pours Louis a whiskey on the rocks after their dinner.

OR Where Louis wants to tell everyone about his relationship with Harry, but his boyfriend clearly thinks otherwise.

💕 Spellbound by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 {T, 22k}

Louis’ a shifter. Harry’s a witch. The only problem is, they’re hiding those things from each other.

Will they be able to keep their secrets hidden at the most spooky time of year?

💕 You Were Mine by @brightlyharry {E, 20k}

Harry and Louis hardly speak to each other unless they're fighting. Harry has ran out of ways to try to repair their broken marriage and Louis can't be bothered to even try. When the loneliness becomes too much, he joins a new social media app. It doesn't take him long to make a new friend on there that helps pull him out of his solitary hell. The more they talk, the more Harry finds comfort in his anonymous friend. He is smiling and laughing again for the first time in months.

He soon discovers that Louis is smiling again too, and it's not because of him.

💕 Dance Me (to the End of Love) by @phdmama {E, 19k}

You would think that it's a simple process - you meet, you fall in love, you get married. But when you add one lawyer and one overly-competitive high school teacher to that equation, it's no longer a straight line from beginning to end. Or the story of how a simple proposal becomes a competition where no one loses in the end.

💕 On Thin Ice by @neondiamond {E, 16k}

As the goaltender for one of the best hockey teams in the world, Harry never expected participating in his second winter Olympics would be so eventful. His hidden long-term relationship with the captain of their biggest rival team may have something to do with it.

💕 Another One For The Road by @reminiscingintherain {T, 15k,}

She looked up at Louis with a smile. "Congratulations Louis. You're pregnant." "Oh fuck," he said softly, before his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he promptly passed out.

Or the one where Louis' on tour when he finds out the hard way that men can get pregnant too....

💕 Wild As You by bluegreenish / @greenblueish {M, 9k}

As much as Harry had not been overjoyed at the prospect of leaving Minnesota behind and starting high school in rural central Nebraska, it had definitely changed his life in ways staying at his childhood home never would have. Within days he had found fellow students to sit with at lunch, within weeks he had considered them friends, within months he had learned to love Nebraska, and within four years, he had wildly fallen in love with Louis Tomlinson.

or, a story about how Harry figures out whether the ideal of a house with a white picket fence in the suburbs of a medium-sized city is what he wants, or whether Louis' sheep ranch is the home his heart really desires.

💕 caught up in your love affair by @disgruntledkittenface {NR, 8k}

“And the corgis took to you straightaway,” Harry remarks.

“That’s true,” Louis chuckles.

“I’ve spent the last 29 years being barked at,” Harry deadpans, jerking his hand toward Louis, “this one walks in, absolutely nothing.”

Louis outright giggles at that, saying, “They were just lying on my feet during tea.”

“Wagging tails,” Harry says, shaking his head.

“It’s because they don’t understand flirting,” Louis tells him, “you can’t charm them the way you do everyone else.”

Royal AU. Prince Harry announces his engagement to Louis Tomlinson in an interview with longtime friend and BBC host Nick Grimshaw. Inspired by Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.

💕 So Much Left to Say by myownspark / @myownsparknow {M, 7k}

Harry remembers Louis stalking along the Cougar’s sideline as the final seconds of the game ticked away. He was apart from everyone, with his arms crossed and his head down, sort of fragile looking even in his pads and helmet. Harry’s fingers actually itched to hold his hand, just as they do now. He holds the phone up to take a selfie and smiles into the camera, trying to ask Louis a question with his eyes. (Are you really okay? Tell me the truth. I bet you’re sitting on your bed, playing Madden, sulking. If you want to see me, I’ll come. I know you better than anyone. You’re sad. I’d like to come.) He pushes send.

(Harry and Louis play for rival high school football teams, and when they play against each other in the Homecoming game, someone has to lose.)

💕 As one we are everything/We are everything we need by louloubaby92 / @louloubabys1992 {M, 5k}

Harry finally marries the love of his life. He's got the mating mark, he's got Louis' ring on his finger.

And now, he's on his honeymoon. Louis is but a door away, waiting for him.

Honestly, he doesn't understand why he's nervous.

💕 Tuca Tuca (ILikeYouILikeYouILikeYou) by @persephoneflouwers {E, 4k}

The San Francisco getaway AU, where Harry is needy and Louis has a flight to LA in a few hours.

💕 sensitive to pressure by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry {E, 4k}

Harry’s breath stutters on its way up his throat, his cheeks heating more with each step as Louis gets closer and Harry can’t move. Feet stuck to the carpet, heavy and unwilling, unable to shuffle away or take control, stuck in place and waiting.

💕 Gonna Dress You Up In My Love by @fallinglikethis {T, 3k}

Harry decides to take up knitting. He's horrible at it. Louis wears everything anyway.

💕 lying close to you by @nouies {NR, 2k}

Harry’s been living for twenty-five years but he’s only felt alive for the past two.

130 notes · View notes

blueraineshadows · 10 months

Text

Guitars, and Heart Strings

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC - angst, fluff, smut

🔞 NSFW 🌶 🔥 ❤️

This is a Request fic for the lovely @simpy-slytherin 💜🥰

Notes: The Legacy Gang have graduated, and they are getting ready to embark on their adult lives. One last night out together in Hogsmeade to kick off summer turns a little explosive for our favourite dueling partners...

The Three Broomsticks was packed out with patrons, Sirona rushed off her feet with the bustling bar filled with witches and wizards who had piled in for the evening's entertainment. Tonight, a local five piece band was playing, a group renowned for their foot stomping shanties and they were very popular.

The lead singer, in particular, was rather well known, a former Hogwarts graduate with a stunning voice and a gorgeous smile. Adam McNeil turned heads, there was no two ways about it.

"Oh, MC, what a beautiful man," Natty sighed. "I'd let him strum my strings any day of the week."

MC snorted a laugh and nudged her friend with her shoulder. "Natty! Just how many fire whiskey shots have you had already?"

Natty grinned. "Not nearly enough to pluck up the courage to go and introduce myself to Adam McNeil that's for sure."

The girls giggled, and MC looked over at Adam, her eyes widening a little as he met her gaze and gave her a smile. She immediately smiled back, a blush colouring her cheeks.

Natty noticed and nudged MC quite firmly with a boney elbow. "Did you see that? He smiled at you!" Natty looked at MC rolling her eyes. "How is this fair? Adam McNeil is giving you sexy smiles! Oh, to be you for one day, MC!"

"Honestly, Natty, you do not want to be in here," MC said, tapping her temple. "Way too much baggage lying around. Anyway, it was just a smile, he probably does that to everyone."

Natty didn't look convinced. "Come on, he was definitely looking at you," she said. She eyed MC a moment. "Or are you playing this down because you've got your eye on someone else?"

MC gave her a look. "We've been over this," she said. "Seb and I are best friends. He's a flirt, sure, but I don't think it goes any further than that."

"But, you want it to, right?"

MC shrugged. "Maybe. I don't want to mess up what we have though, he is too important to me. I would hate it if things got weird."

Natty nodded. "For what it's worth, I think you would make a great couple. But, I understand your worries." She glanced back towards Adam McNeil and smiled. "You could always try a little flirtation with someone else. Adam is looking at you again."

MC turned to see, and Natty was right. MC felt the beginnings of another blush as she smiled back. Again. She took Natty's arm. "Come on, let's get back to the others."

The whole gang had turned out for tonight. MC stared at the table of her friends as her and Natty approached, her heart full of love for them. They had become her family over the last three years. All of them. They were all crammed around one table, chatting and drinking, laughter spilling out freely now that all the exam stress was done.

They were free. It was almost scary.

MC smiled fondly at Poppy, who was practically sitting in Ominis' lap, her little hand clamped firmly around his. She doted on him, her eyes full of her adoration every time she looked at him.

Poppy gave her a sheepish smile. "I did try to save your seat, but then Garreth and Leander arrived."

Both red headed Gryffindors looked up, big smiles as they greeted her. Maybe she'd had a few too many shots of firewhiskey, because she threw her arms around the both of them and planted a kiss on their cheeks. "It's good to see you guys," she said. She meant it. The potential to not see any of them again hurt more than she wanted to admit.

As she pulled away from the Gryffindor lads she met a pair of brown eyes that always set her pulse fluttering. Sebastian's eyes blazed with something, glittering dangerously as his hand clasped her wrist possessively. He tugged her away from Garreth and Leander and patted his lap. "There's a seat right here for you, MC," he said.

MC eyed his lap. Oh, it was tempting. Her heart started pounding at the thought of it. She didn't trust herself to do it though, the proximity combined with the alcohol might lead her into dangerous territory. Her chat with Natty had brought all her torment over Sebastian to the forefront of her mind.

Turns out she didn't have a choice. Sebastian had her wrist in his grip, his smirk dangerous as he tugged her down onto his lap, his hand planting firmly just above her hip. She gasped as she tried not to spill her drink, adjusting herself so she was a bit more comfortable. Their gazes met and she bit her lip at the possessive satisfaction in his gaze.

"Someone is feeling rather hands on this evening," she quipped.

"Only thinking of your comfort, MC," he said. "It's not very gentlemanly to leave a lady standing now, is it."

"A real gentleman would have given up his chair, not manhandled said lady into his lap," she said, poking him in the chest.

"Ah, but this is much more fun," he said. "I'm at a better advantage for annoying you, and I know how much you love it when I do that."

"Bloody hell, would you two just fuck already?" Garreth said across the table.

MC gaped at him. "Garreth!"

Sebastian's fingers gripped her hip a little tighter as Garreth laughed and shrugged, he held his hands out. "What? We're all thinking it. I'm just saying it out loud."

MC glanced around the table and everyone was suddenly very interested in something else, their drink or the band, anything but her gaze. Poppy gave her an apologetic look. MC turned to Sebastian and was met with a rather smug smirk. She narrowed her eyes. "Hands where I can see them, Sallow," she quipped.

He laughed and held both hands up in surrender. "My hands are at your command." His wink sent a shiver down her spine. Oh, she had a few ideas of what he could do with those hands. MC looked down at her drink and the thought crossed her mind that she should watch herself, too many of those and her restraint might snap.

See? Dangerous territory.

The chatter round the table continued, the table becoming cluttered with their empty drinks. The band continued to play and the atmosphere in the pub became rather lively. MC tried not to think about the feel of Sebastian's hand at her hip, or the fact that he barely took it away from that spot. She felt the rumble of his laughter through his chest where her arm was against it. Every now and then his breath would tickle the loose strands of hair at her neck where it had slipped from her clip, she rubbed her hand there once as it tickled and he noticed. He smirked and blew gently onto her skin, making the loose strands of hair dance and goosebumps erupt down her arm. Her nudge and gentle scolding just made him smile wider.

Feeling fidgety, she squirmed a little in his lap and heard his breath hiss through his teeth, his hands stilling her hips. "Sorry, am I squishing you?" She asked.

He shook his head and shifted her ever so slightly himself, adjusting his seating. Her bottom brushed up against something hard and she wriggled to get comfortable, whatever was in his pocket was rather annoying. He made a small, low sound and she glanced at him to see colour flooding into his cheeks, his eyes dark pools of utter temptation. Realisation flooded through her, and desire pierced right through her core. Oh, fuck!

Her eyes flew to Natty. "Fancy a dance, Nats? I need to burn off some energy," she said. She risked another awkward glance at Sebastian before she slid from his lap, her legs a little wobbly as she clasped Natsai by the hand. "Come on, you can drool over Adam McNeil while we dance."

....*...

Adam fucking McNeil. Sebastian's hand curled into a fist on his thigh. MC, Poppy and Natty were dancing, laughing, and Adam McNeil's eyes were lingering for far too long on MC for his liking.

Sebastian's gaze travelled over MC as she danced, her hips swaying, her arse perfect in those tight little trousers she wore. He adjusted the crotch of his trousers, a little embarrassed that she had caused him to get a little too aroused when she sat on his lap. The look on her face had been priceless though!

Even her blouse was close fitting this evening, the throat open exposing her collar bones, the mini corset vest she wore accentuated the exquisite curve of her waist and pushed her breasts up in a way that made his mouth go dry.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who had noticed. The singer, this Adam McNeil that the girls were all sighing over, was watching MC too closely, his gaze following her as she danced and offering up little smiles her way. What was worse, she was smiling back.

"That lead singer loves himself a bit doesn't he?" He grumbled.

Imelda huffed a laugh. "What's not to love? He's talented, devilishly handsome, and charming beyond belief," she said. She gave Sebastian a sly look. "And if my eyes don't deceive me, he seems to have taken an interest in our very own Hero of Hogwarts. I'd say that's what your pissed about, not how Adam views himself."

Sebastian glared at her. "Who says I'm pissed off?"

She laughed. "I'm just spitting facts, Sallow. If you want to get your dick wet, I'd quit whining and do something about it, before someone else does."

Ominis nearly choked on his butterbeer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "My sentiments exactly, although I might have chosen my words a little more eloquently."

"Oh, don't you start," Sebastian sighed. He stood and fished in his pockets for his coins. "I need another drink."

Waiting at the bar, Sebastian seethed. The song had ended and the band were taking a moment to have a drink and wipe their sweaty faces with towels. They chatted amongst themselves, but Adam only had eyes for MC. He beckoned her over and she went, her smile lighting up her face. Adam bent to say something into her ear and she nodded, then moved to say something back to him. Sebastian did not like the way Adam looked at her, he didn't like it at all.

He grit his teeth and reminded himself that he had given up the use of Unforgivables a long time ago. But his wand felt heavy and willing in his pocket as MC put her hand on Adam's arm and laughed.

....*....

MC was loving this evening. She paused in her dancing, a little out of breath, her blood pumping pleasantly, the alcohol giving her a brilliant buzz.

"I love this band!" She said to Natty. "I haven't danced like this in so long."

"They play around the Highlands regularly," Natty said. "Maybe we should go to other gigs?"

"Oh, yes, I would love to!" MC beamed. Not only at seeing the band play again, but at the thought of meeting up with her friend. She desperately didn't want to lose touch.

"I think Adam might be pleased to see you there too," Natty said. "Not that I am jealous or anything."

MC put her arm around Natty and gave her a squeeze. "I told you, its nothing, just a bit of harmless fun."

They went back to the table to quench their thirst, MC returning to Sebastian, but she hesitated at the sour look on his face. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Everything alright?"

He pulled out of her touch and nodded tightly. "Couldn't be better," he said.

MC frowned. She was having too much of a good time and she did not want to deal with one of his mood swings right now.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged.

She picked up her drink and moved towards Leander instead. She tapped him on the shoulder. "Can I sit here?" She asked.

"Oh, of course," he said. He immediately went to stand to offer her his chair. She giggled and pushed him back down. "No, no, silly. I meant here." She patted her hand on his thigh and he blushed a brilliant shade of red.

He froze, his hands held out awkwardly, as MC sat on his thigh and slung her arm around his shoulders. She turned to pointedly stare at Sebastian, one eyebrow raised. If he wanted to be a misery, she would give him something to sulk about. His mouth tightened subtly and she smirked. Serves him right.

"Is this alright?" She asked Leander quietly. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Erm, yeah, it's alright," he said.

She smiled. "I don't mind sitting on your lap. You're a gentleman, Leander," she said. "I trust you completely."

The band finished their song and MC turned to clap enthusiastically along with everyone else. Sebastian sat there without moving a muscle.

Adam wiped his face with a towel and then picked up an acoustic guitar. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," he said, loudly. His voice carried across the room beautifully. "This next song is a bit slower, if that's alright, and I would like to dedicate it to a rather lovely young lady in the room. She knows who she is."

Adam's gaze met MC's and she felt her cheeks warm considerably, and then he winked. Adam McNeil fucking winked at her! She put her hand to her chest, flattered beyond belief. She stared back at Adam, stunned, as he began to play his guitar.

The song was considerably stripped back, and when Adam sang, she felt herself melting. She hadn't even noticed how her fingers were digging into Leander's shoulder until he shifted it under her. She released her grip, muttering an apology.

Adam kept his eyes on her, and people were starting to notice.

"Fucking hell," Imelda muttered behind her. "He is absolutely singing that to MC!"

MC swallowed, and she broke eye contact with Adam to glance at Sebastian. His face might as well have been carved from stone. His eyes were cold fury as he glared towards the band, towards Adam, and then he looked at her. MC almost flinched at the coldness she saw there in his eyes.

She had to look away. She felt uncomfortable all of a sudden, confused. How many times had she sent signals to Sebastian and got nowhere? Their playful flirting was apparently just that, playful. And now he was jealous? Of Adam?

Tonight was supposed to be about fun, and it had been. And as for Adam, how could she not be flattered? He was utterly charming, and he was looking at her in such a way that made her feel good. She was not owned by anyone, she did not need permission to have fun, and she was not going to let Sebastian Sallow get under her skin. Let him sit and stew in his jealous misery.

She stood up from Leander's lap, thanking him for allowing her to sit there, and she moved to the bar, ignoring Sebastian completely. She needed a drink.

....*...

"Must you insist on being an insufferable fool," Ominis snapped. He put a long fingered hand to his brow and squeezed. "Quit whining and moaning, you're rather spoiling the mood of the whole evening."

Sebastian eyed his best friend, his lips twisted into a sour grimace of envy. "Oh, and I suppose you would be quite content to sit there whilst some back street singer started fawning all over Poppy, would you?"

"That is entirely different," Ominis said, his brow creasing with annoyance.

"I don't see how," Sebastian muttered. He folded his arms, pouting miserably. He leant back against the barrels outside the Three Broomsticks, out here getting some much needed air away from the band inside the pub. He didn't think he could stand another minute of watching Adam McNeil flirting with MC, and seeing her enjoy it.

"It is completely different," Ominis huffed. He leant in towards Sebastian, stern faced. "I had the balls to ask Poppy to be my girl, and I'm rather glad that I did. I get to hold her hand whenever I like, I get to kiss her whenever I like. Unlike yourself, who makes a rather big show of being an insufferable flirt, but you haven't got the nerve to actually tell MC how you really feel!"

Sebastian stared at Ominis, a flush beginning to creep up his neck. A slither of envy coiled in his gut thinking of how Ominis had mentioned being able to kiss his girl whenever he wanted.

"If another man even dared to think about laying a finger on Poppy, then I would absolutely be furious. Only I get to do that. You, however, have no right to sit there sulking and spoiling MC's evening just because you're not getting your own way," Ominis continued. "And if she does end up leaving the bar with that singer, then you've only yourself to blame!"

Sebastian gaped. "What? She will not be leaving the bar with him! Not if I have anything to do with it!"

Ominis looked pained. Sebastian cared little, he was too busy imagining MC leaving in the arms of that bloody singer. His hand slid into his pocket and gripped his wand tight. Over his fucking dead body she would. MC was his! How could she not be?

They had shared more in the last few years than some did in a lifetime. There would be no life without her, not for him. He belonged to her, and she belonged to him. At least, that's how it was in his head.

What if it wasn't like that in her head? What if she went off with Adam and had this whole new life and forgot about him? Isn't that one of the fears that has kept his mouth sealed shut in the first place, her leaving him, forgetting about him?

Oh gods. He was going to have to tell her.

Sebastian's grip relaxed on his wand and he looked at Ominis. His shoulders slumped with the gutting realisation that once again, his friend was right. Why did he always have to be right?

"It must be rather smug to be you, Ominis," he groused. "Doesn't it get tiring being right all the time?"

"You have no idea, Sebastian," Ominis said, wearily. "When it comes to you, I feel I must be always one step ahead to prevent disaster."

Despite his sulk, Sebastian couldn't help but grin. He loved nothing more than keeping people on their toes, and he doubted he would ever stop.

Sebastian decided he needed another drink, a drop of courage. After all, he was about to go and tell the girl he loved how he felt before handsome Adam could whisk her away. He quite liked the idea of being able to kiss MC whenever he liked.

....*....

MC stood and clapped as the band finished their last song of this set. Adam said they would be taking a 30 minute break before returning to finish the evening off. Natty asked if she wanted another drink, and MC was about to say yes, but Natty's eyes had widened and she grabbed MC's hand. "Merlin, Adam is coming over here," she hissed.

"What?" MC turned and saw that Natty was right. His smile was devastating.

MC threw a quick glance back over towards their table, and her friends. Sebastian and Ominis were nowhere to be seen. Then she reminded herself that she didn't need to answer to anybody, she was her own person. It would be rude to ignore Adam, especially after he sang for her.

"Hello, ladies," Adam said.

"Hello," Natty replied. Her cheeks darkened in a deep blush. "You have been wonderful!"

"Oh, well thank you," he said. "It's always great to hear that people have enjoyed our music."

MC's lips curved into a smirk as she looked at Natty. She was fairly certain that it wasn't the music so much as the man delivering it that Natty was so enamoured by.

"I hope I'm not being too forward," Adam said, and he put a gentle hand to MC's elbow. "But, I was wondering if I might steal you from your friend for a few moments."

His Scottish accent was beautiful, soft and melodic, and MC was just staring. She felt the sharp pinch of Natty's fingers and mentally shook herself. "Oh, erm...sure?" She said, nervously.

She glanced at Natty who gave her a rigorous nod, practically shoving MC in Adam's direction. "Of course you can steal her," Natty said. "Can't he, MC? I don't mind."

Adam smiled. "MC? That's a bonnie name," he said. He met her gaze. "A bonnie name for a bonnie lass."

MC could have sworn she heard Natty utter a little whine. She threw her a look but Natty was waving her off, and Adam was taking her arm. MC felt a million butterflies erupt in her stomach. What in Merlin's name was happening here?

Adam led her over towards the corner near where there instruments were set up. MC eyed them curiously, some she recognised, others she wasn't so sure of. They certainly made for enjoyable music though when all played together.

"I was hoping to get a moment alone with you, MC," Adam said. "You've been a rather delightful distraction all evening, if you don't mind me saying."

She did not mind, she realised. "So, am I right in assuming that I was the girl you dedicated that song to? Or, do you say that to all girls?"

The twinkle in his eye had her flustered. "Only the really pretty ones," he said. He leant in a little closer, his intriguing scent surrounding her. "And you, MC, are beautiful. I couldn't resist stealing you away from your friends. Although, before I make a complete fool of myself, I thought I had better check something. Are you attached to any of the gentleman that are sitting with you this evening? I don't want to step on anyone's toes."

The way Sebastian had gone off in a sulk, you would think that someone had stomped on his toes with heavy boots. MC pushed the thought aside. She shook her head. "Nope, no gentleman or lady to tread on," she said. "I am a free spirit."

Was she? Her heart clenched a little, her confusing feelings for Sebastian churning away in there. However, Adam looked very pleased at this news, and his smile was so very lovely. "In that case, I would be honoured if you would like to share a drink with me while we're on our break. Would you like that?"

"I would," she agreed.

And that was how it started, how she found herself sipping whiskey with a gorgeous Scottish singer, and ended up perched on his lap while he tried to show her how to play his guitar. Never mind that she didn't have the first clue how to play, or that all the whiskey in her blood had released the flirt in her, MC was rather enjoying herself.

Adam brought his arm around to show her how to press her fingers onto the strings, arranging them into a chord on the fret board - a new term she had just learnt. His touch was firm but gentle, and she was surprised at how she didn't mind it all. It was more difficult than it looked, the strings hard under her soft finger tips. She held the strings down in the position he had arranged and then she strummed with her other hand.

She winced at the off sound it made. She giggled. "I think I should leave the music to the experts," she said. "You make it look so easy."

His breath tickled her ear as he spoke. "Ach, its only practise, MC," he said. "Everyone has to start somewhere. Have another wee go."

She looked down at the guitar and readied for another try. Adam's hand moved to her waist, the touch feather light, almost hesitant. Her breathing hitched a little, and while it certainly didn't feel terrible, a strange flush of guilt swept over her. It wasn't Sebastian's hand.

Trying to concentrate, she strummed the guitar, and this time it didn't sound so bad. She smiled, and Adam's hand pressed a little more firmly at her waist. "See? Much better this time," he murmured near her ear.

MC felt warmth spread through her at the same time a shiver slid down her spine. He was beginning to affect her, her thoughts growing hazy. It was so confusing. She wanted him to touch her, and yet all she could see was Sebastian's face. She swallowed, and cursed herself for drinking more blasted whiskey than she should have.

She should tell him. It wasn't fair to lead Adam on, she couldn't let him think she was available after all. She shifted on his lap, pushing the guitar forward so she could turn to him, her eyes locking on his very pretty ones. Oh, Merlin, he was even more lovely this close up.

The words were on the tip of her tongue, she didn't have a boyfriend, but she did have feelings for someone. And then his gaze dropped to her lips, he was leaning in, and her heart sped up in a mixture of excitement and panic. Oh, gods, he was going to kiss her!

And then a firm hand grabbed hold of her upper arm, she jumped, shocked, eyes flying up to meet with a pair of furious brown eyes.

"Don't even fucking think about it," Sebastian growled.

....*....

The band was no longer playing as Sebastian entered the bar, he made his way to order his drink, Ominis beside him. He glanced about looking for MC, nerves fluttering about what he might say to her. She wasn't at the table with the others and he frowned a little, his gaze swinging about the room.

He froze. There she was, sitting on Adam McNeil's lap, his hands on her as she tried to play his fucking guitar. He watched, livid, as Adam spoke into her ear and she smiled that beautiful smile of hers. No way. He wasn't having this.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he snapped.

"What is it?" Ominis asked.

But Sebastian didn't answer. He was moving, pushing his way through the bar to get to MC, he wasn't going to stand for another moment of Adam's hands on her. As he neared them, his eyes blazed as she turned to Adam, and the bastard was leaning in for a kiss.

Not on his fucking watch! He reached out, desperate, panic seizing him as he clamped his hand hard around her arm. He felt her jolt with shock, but he didn't loosen his grip. Couldn't, even if he wanted to. She looked up at him, surprised and a little fearful.

"Don't even fucking think about it." He ground the words out past the frightened fury in his throat. He couldn't lose her, he just couldn't.

"Sebastian!" She gasped his name, the sound of it breathless, pained almost.

Adam was looking between MC and him, confused. "Okay, easy now," he said slowly.

Sebastian glared at him. "Get your hands off her," he spat. He tugged at MC's arm. "Get up, now!"

MC struggled to put down the guitar whilst Sebastian was holding her so tightly, but he refused to let her go, his fingers clamped in a vice like grip. Adam took the guitar and then Sebastian hauled her up, dragging her out away from him.

"What are you doing?!" She cried. She tried to resist his pull, but he just tugged her harder. "Sebastian!"

She looked at Adam who was reaching out for her other hand. "I'm so sorry," she said, her eyes soft as she looked at him.

Sebastian's stomach churned with jealous rage and he clenched his teeth.

Adam frowned. "I thought you said you didn't have a boyfriend," he said. His eyes hardened as he looked at Sebastian.

MC shook her head. "I don't, but..."

Sebastian seized on that word. But what?

"...I'm so sorry," she finished.

He threw Adam a warning look to back off and began to head for the nearest exit, dragging MC along beside him. She tried to pull her arm free, and kept glancing back towards Adam, but Sebastian just wanted to get her out of there, away from Adam, away from all the eyes in the room that were now watching the drama unfold.

Sebastian didn't even try to seek out Ominis and the others. He knew all he would see was them with their heads in their hands. Oh look, Sebastian had spat his dummy out again. Fuck it! Right now, all he could see was red. And all he wanted was her, with him, and him alone.

....*....

Anger. That was her first reaction. How dare Sebastian drag her bodily out of the pub like that, and in front of everyone too! She had struggled as much as she could against his iron grip on her arm, but she hadn't wanted to create even more of a scene than they already were, so she let him take her outside.

Embarrassment. Oh, there was plenty of that! For one, she was fairly certain that she had been about to let Adam McNeil kiss her, and guilty shame flooded through her. Sebastian would have seen! Everyone could see. Inwardly, she was cringing.

Outwardly, she was firing daggers with her eyes as Sebastian dragged her across the cobbled street and down a path. He was the most insufferable prick sometimes! She yanked against his grip again, his fingers biting viciously into her muscle. This was going to bruise.

"Let me go," she demanded.

He looked at her. "No."

They carried on walking, her feet stumbling a little to keep up with his pace. "You're so bloody rude," she snapped. "How could you do that?"

"He was touching you," he said. Simple, controlled, matter of fact. "I didn't like it."

"Oh, you didn't like it?" She scoffed. She fumbled for her wand. "Well, I don't like this, so let me go!"

She thrust her wand up under his chin, pressing it against his flesh. He halted but didn't let her go. His eyes slid to hers. "I'd think very carefully about your next move, MC," he said. His words, spoken so silky smooth and dark, it sent a shiver down her spine. Her lips parted, her eyes locked with his.

No. She was mad at him, she couldn't let him distract her. She pressed her wand in to his neck a little more. "Like you did back there? Did you even think about it? Yanking me from Adam's lap like that! How dare you! You ought to go back and apologise for such roguish behaviour."

He scoffed. "Not fucking likely," he said. He leant in close, pushing his own neck against her wand, his skin becoming white and taut under the pressure. Her hand trembled a little. His eyes burned into hers. "He put his hands on you, MC. It was unacceptable."

"Unacceptable to whom, Sebastian?" She frowned. "Isn't it up to me who puts their hands on me?"

He swallowed, her wand jolting under the movement. That had to be seriously uncomfortable, but he didn't move back nor push her hand away. "Is that what you really wanted then? You wanted him to touch you. Looked like I interrupted a kiss too, how romantic of him, snogging you over his guitar."

Jealous prick! Inside she was pissed off at him, but also, quivering with delicious want. The balance was swinging madly and it was making her dizzy. He had no bloody right looking so attractive whilst pissing her off!

She couldn't resist the urge to niggle at him, rile him up, push him...to what end she had no idea. "It was rather romantic, at least I thought so. He had such gentle hands."

Sebastian's nostrils flared and his eyes raged. He stared at her, a war going on behind his gaze. Then he finally shoved her wand away from his neck, his hand released her arm and he turned away. He raked his hands through his hair and began to pace. He let out a frustrated growl through his teeth.

"So, one minute you're wriggling around on my lap...and don't pretend you have no idea what I'm talking about," he said giving her a look. "And then the next, you are off in the corner trying to snog the lead singer of the band. What are you playing at?"

She gaped. "Just what are you suggesting, Sebastian?"

"Not suggesting, asking," he said. "Are you deliberately trying to wind me up?"

"How is this suddenly all about you?" She cried. "I thought we were having a lovely evening, then you got all sulky and pissy, disappeared for a while, and then storm back to rip me so rudely away from Adam, and drag me bodily out of the pub! If anyone deserves to be cross here, it's me!"

"And if I hadn't pulled you off him? What then?" He demanded. "Would you have kissed him? Gone home with him?"

"I...I don't know!" She cried. "I didn't plan any of this, I was just enjoying my evening."

He looked crestfallen for a moment, before turning away, pushing his hand through his hair. "You really might have left with him?" He asked quietly. His voice dropped even lower and, if she had heard him correctly, his next words chilled her. "You would have left me."

"I wouldn't have gone home with him." She said. She had been about to tell Adam that she had feelings for someone else after all, she really hadn't planned on going anywhere with him.

He rubbed the back of his head with his hand and began to pace again. "You would have kissed him though, wouldn't you?"

She lowered her gaze to the path, suspecting he might be right on that front. Why should she feel so guilty? Why were they arguing about this? They weren't even a couple.

"Are you jealous?" She asked. Clearly, he was jealous, but would he admit it.

He stopped pacing and clenched his hands into fists. He gave her a sideways look. "Do you want me to be?"

She rolled her eyes. "For fuck sake, Sebastian, does everything have to be a game to you? Just answer the question. Are you jealous?"

His mouth tightened. She took a step towards him. "Yes or no? Shall I go back there, see if he fancies another try? I might let him."

"You will not," he hissed. He took hold of her upper arms. "You're not going anywhere."

"Going to stop me are you?" She taunted. Her pulse fluttered hotly, blood thrumming with whiskey and fire. "Now, why would you do that?"

"Because..." He stopped, lips clamping shut.

"Yes?" She leaned in towards him. He stared, wide eyed as she got closer and closer. His fingers were fisted in the sleeves of her blouse, but his arms bent as she invaded his space.

Her anger had shifted, twisting into fierce need. Adam didn't seem so important anymore. It was just Sebastian and her, alone on this little pathway in the dusky shadows of Hogsmeade.

He was so beautiful, she loved that face, had seen him go through all sorts of emotions with those eyes that she could drown in. She had pulled him through hurts, trauma, had fought beside him, cried in his arms. How could he ever think that she would leave him?

"I would never leave you, you know," she said, softly. His eyes flickered with a devastating flash of vulnerability. "Never."

"You should," he rasped. His breaths were coming quicker, more harried. "Why would you want someone as fucked up as me, when you could have someone like Adam?"

The broken sound of his voice crushed her.

"I don't want Adam," she whispered.

His eyes locked on hers. She put her wand away and took his face in her hands. "I want you."

His breathing faltered. "What?"

....*....

He had heard her right, hadn't he? He just stared at her, blankly, his mind empty of all thoughts and he scrambled to gather them.

Her hands, capable of such beauty and terror, were holding his face. The pads of her thumbs swept over his cheeks and his lungs screamed for him to draw a breath.

She wanted him.

Words were useless. They wouldn't come at his call, so he just pulled her closer, closing the gap, and claimed her lips with his own. At the first touch of her softness he knew he never wanted it to stop. He just held his lips there, unmoving, freeze framing this moment because he never wanted to forget it.

Her hands slid down his face, finger tips like searing torture as she smoothed them up behind his ears and into his hair. She broke contact with his lips to draw a breath and kissed him again, expelling the breath as a moan.

That's when he lost control of any restraint he may have been clinging on to. His mouth devoured her, stealing every gasp and moan she uttered as he swirled his tongue hungrily between her parted lips. His hands were swift, greedy, as they skimmed her hips, sliding around to grab her arse in those tight little trousers.

Oh, fuck, he throbbed with desperate need, his hips seeking hers as his hands pressed against peachy softness. Somewhere, in the back of his filthy mind, he was aware they were on a public path. He shuffled her backwards, unwilling to stop kissing her mouth, and pressed her up against a rough stone wall.

"Sebastian," she panted. Her fingers pulled at his hair, the tug sharp but highly arousing.

"Tell me again," he demanded. He nipped and licked along her jaw, burying his nose against her neck to breathe in her scent. He was dizzy with it, completely lost. His. And only his. "Tell me you want me."

His breaths guttered and a low moan slid from him as she rolled her hips seductively against him. "I want you," she sighed. "Please..."

He gripped her hips, forehead pressed to hers, staring down to where she was grinding against him. His cock was so hard, so fucking hot for her, that it was almost painful. "Let me fuck you," he begged. "Fuck..."

She was tugging at his vest, popping the buttons and then working on his shirt, as it opened she dragged her finger nails down his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, clinging on to a semblance of control. He did not want to shoot his load too soon.

He growled through gritted teeth and pulled at the buttons of her trousers, opening them enough to get his hand in. "Oh, my..."

She was soaked, her underwear clinging to her damp flesh. His finger tips slid luxuriously through heavenly slick folds and he thought he might die. Delicious little mewls came from her lips as he boldly pressed two fingers into her, groaning at the soft heat of her tight walls. Now his cock was positively dripping with need to get in there.

He had once imagined the first time he would take her. He had the whole scene played out in his head, how he would light those little floating candles that she loved. Have a fire roaring in the grate and slowly kiss every inch of her.

This, this was nothing like that. But fuck, was it good.

He shoved her trousers roughly downwards, yanking one of her legs free of them, he lifted that gloriously bare leg and resumed his finger play, seeking out that perfect little nub. Her hips flexed and her finger nails bit like tiny teeth as she rutted against his hand.

He bit her lower lip, sucking it gently and tasting blood. "Does it feel good?" He asked. She nodded, dragging in her breaths. He pumped two fingers into her, his thumb dragging lazily over her clit. "Then tell me, tell me how you like it, and I'll give you more."

Her moan was sinful and he bent to suck at her neck, tasting her.

"More...Seb...please," she whimpered. "So good..."

He rubbed tighter, faster circles and she whined, a string of little cries left her and then she was cumming, clenching and bucking. She was fucking perfect and he wanted it all.

Not even waiting for her to calm down, he hosted her legs up and around him, lined himself up and slid his aching cock into her clenching, soaked pussy.

He had to take a few seconds to clear the haze of lust that clouded his vision, her hot tightness sucking him deeper until he thought he might pass out. Her hands were clutching at his shirt and vest that were hanging loosely from his shoulders, her mouth gulping, overwhelmed and shocked at how quickly he had done it.

"You feel amazing," he groaned. He adjusted his grip, one arm taking the weight of her pelvis, the other braced against the wall and he began to thrust.

Oh gods! His eyes rolled and his teeth clenched. He couldn't hold back. He was going to have some apologies to make after this, but he couldn't help it. She had driven him so wild that he was spinning out of control, fucking her so tight and hard she had to throw out a hand against the wall to brace herself.

"I'm...sorry," he panted. "Am I...hurting you?"

She gripped the back of his head. "Don't you dare stop," she said, through gritted teeth. "I want it...give me all of it."

Fucking hell! It was hot, it was fast and stars exploded behind his eyelids as his cock finally let go, throbbing deliciously as he pumped her full of himself.

He was breathing hard, so happy, so overwhelmed. He took her face in his hands, could feel her trembling against him.

"I love you, MC," he said fiercely. "You're mine, all mine, and I am never letting you go."

"Promise?" She whispered. She put her hands over his, her eyes glittering with tears. "Promise me you'll never let me go."

"I Promise," he said. "And you know me, I never go back on my word."

She looked up at him and his heart swelled to almost bursting point. "I do know you," she said. "And I love you and I'm going to make you a promise too. I will never leave you, Seb. I physically couldn't do it. I wouldn't be able to breathe."

He held her, tight, eyes closed, savouring everything about this moment. She was his, and he was hers, and it was no longer just in his head. It was real.

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #blueraineshadows

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romione-trope-fest · 2 months

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2024 Masterlist

Soulmates

Red Rings by @honouraryweasley12

The Way I Love(d) You by @adenei

I Wish It Was Only A Teaspoon by Iris Blanche (ao3 link)

Something To Believe In by @voldemorts-tap-shoes

When You Wish Upon A Star by @adenei

OOTP Missing Moments

Hufflepuff (Tea) Search Party by @cowahbull

3am by @be11atrixthestrange

What’s In A Gift? by @adenei

Thunderstorms by @mertronus

How To Parent Gryffindors by @voldemorts-tap-shoes

The Perfect Pair by @adenei

Perfect Prefect Present by @nena-96

Ocean Eyes by @flaming-brown-witch

Whiskey on Rounds by @be11atrixthestrange

Fake Not Dating

Call It What You Want by @adenei

The One Where Ron and Hermione are Fake Not Dating by @voldemorts-tap-shoes

Sneaky by @redandbrown

The One Where Everybody Finds Out by @alltoowellread

Before Daybreak by @flaming-brown-witch

He's Gonna Know by @adenei

Cockblocker Harry

Reconnect by @edie-k

There Was Only One Git by @nena-96

The Bug Who Lived by @edie-k

Love and War by @be11atrixthestrange

Can't Do This Without You by @adenei

Stand Still by @flaming-brown-witch

Go For Two by @edie-k

The Talk by @voldemorts-tap-shoes

Never Been Privy To by @reallybeth9

Home Remedy by @honouraryweasley12

Only One Bed

Rouge by @hinny-canons

One Bed by @voldemorts-tap-shoes

Mine by @flaming-brown-witch

In Your Arms by @hpfanted14

Shell Cottage by @adenei

Put Your Thawing Mind To Rest by @my-patronus-is-a-champagne-glass

Rock, Paper, Scissors by Rennervator (ao3 link)

Sleep Hexed by @cheesyficwriter

The New Normal by @my-patronus-is-a-champagne-glass

Muggle AU

Magic Matches by @katenoteight

Enchanted To Meet You by @nena-96

Capture My Heart by @adenei

Not Another Statistic by @nena-96

Let's Go by @flaming-brown-witch

Do You Like Chocolate? by @mertronus

Have An Ice Day by @voldemorts-tap-shoes

The Girl From The Bar by @be11atrixthestrange

Weasley Weddings

Speak Now by @adenei

Finish by @voldemorts-tap-shoes

Six Weasley Weddings by @be11atrixthestrange

The Storm Before The Calm by @my-patronus-is-a-champagne-glass

A Wild Romania Wedding by @nena-96

Say Yes To Heaven by @flaming-brown-witch

#2024masterlist

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ghouljams · 9 months

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Fae Price

A potential Darling appears Meet Cute The Witch 141 Places a Bet Miss Me Playing with Tethers Cigars A Bet with the Witch Failed Spells (a personal matter) Tea Time The Fae Trap Gaz meets the Witch Tapped Apologies Testing the Threshold Enforcing the Threshold Knit Cap Protected Sweetheart The Mimic The Mimic (pt2) The Mimic (pt3) First Date Scared Wanted Beat At His Own Game At your Throat Invisible Claims Samhein Rituals Winter Witch Let Me Keep You(Here's My Name, Burden Me) A Pillow for your Head Misuse of Magic Aftercare Changeling Anniversary Brain Rot (MDNI) Tattoo and Part Two Burden Me Scruffing Gifts Winter in the Garden This is just tit play (minor reader desc) MDNI Not-so-temporary Tattoo Sappy Possessive Magic Fingers (MDNI) Women and Whiskey Somno (MDNI) Relaxing

Non Canon

Broken Wards

You wanna Fuck both of them???

In the Middle Play with Witch(MDNI)

Reverse Fae!AU

The Sun The Flirting

#john price x reader #captain price cod #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x oc #john price x oc #1fae1 #x oc #x reader #f!oc #master list

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chaotic-mystery · 8 months

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Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: your waitressing job has been going good so far and Joel’s finally warming up to you. Halloween being celebrated at White Pony has to you excited for all the customers you can serve…but what does Joel do when one doesn’t treat you how you should be treated?

Content Warnings: eventual smut bc enemies to lovers okay we’re getting there! 18+ mdni!, mean!joel, drinking, no outbreak!au,reader smokes, Joel smokes, Joel’s bitch ass girlfriend, slut shaming (we don’t like Michelle) groaping, fighting, mentions of wounds and blood, reader has daddy issuessss, Joel finally being NICE (will update as we progress)

Word Count: 4.3K

A/N: This shit is starting to warm up and I am biting my fingers for the barbecue scene okay!!! Will they kith? Maybe. If you can spot all my silly references in here, kiss kiss to you pookie.

Within the last two weeks of training at White Pony to be a waitress and being with Michelle almost every night, you had to see more and more of Joel. The first few days he refused to come in the bar like he always did before you got the job. It was his- as he put it, “place to be away from you.” Nice.

Michelle was still just as scary as the day you met her. She kept Joel close in her eyesight when you first came to training but as the days passed and she watched you two hardly say any words to each other, she loosened the leash on him again. Since your blow up with him, things were still kind of weird in the way that all you said to each other was, “You done with that?” and “Another round.”

Tonight you were celebrating Halloween down at the bar and Michelle told you all to come dressed as something, no shift unless you actually try with your outfit. It should’ve been no surprise to her that you'd show up as a blood sucking vampire and not just a regular old boring vampire. The black corset dress with the stockings and glitter everywhere had Michelle’s mouth dropping with shock. “Darlin’ when I said dress up I didn’t mean that dressed up.” Her fake witch nose was kind of crooked with the way she glued it to her face but it suited her. The passive aggressiveness she gave you was really starting to work your nerves but the tips were good here, you could easily talk shit about her attitude later while counting all your bills.

You smooth down your dress and give a twirl, showing off your boots that you just got in the mail. You’ve already heard from Joel how many packages get delivered daily and that “the mail truck parks too long in front of his driveway” yada yada yada. He whined the same spiel every time you almost had it down word for word.

Joel’s eyes meet yours as he leans back in the stool and he begins turning slowly while his eyes scan your outfit briefly. A sly smirk forms on his lips, “So just how much garlic should I put around me to keep you away?” His glass meets his mouth, taking a small sip of his whiskey. Your plastic tray falls at your side as your shoulders drop, your eyes low with annoyance.

“Yeah? You feel proud of that one old man?” you mock, leaning against the bar until all your drinks are done being made. The glasses start to pile up, ready to be taken to the corner of girlfriends celebrating the night all dressed up as different colored crayons.

Your fingers delicately place each glass on the plastic tray and Joel gives a breathy laugh. “I’m proud of that, yeah.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy. You're not my type to even sink my teeth into.” The firm tone takes him by surprise and his eyes flicker over your body once more before scoffing.

“I’m everyone’s type, thank you very much. I’ll take another whiskey too, ma’am.” The devilish grin appears once more which only makes your eyes roll.

“You aren’t even in my section Joel. Fuck off, get your lady to do it.” You shoot back, the annoyance not shying away from your face at all. Joel nods slowly and turns away from you, finally laying off just long enough to let you get back to your job. Michelle watches you closely as she overhears you telling Joel to fuck off, her stern look burning imaginary holes into you.

When she busted you for talking like that to Joel, it was just best not to even look at her, this not being the first time she’s caught you with your sailors mouth in full effect.

With the night flying by from a packed bar, the tips were coming in well. Everyone was dressed up as something, leave it to Joel to dress up as…himself.

“Let me know if you need anything else!” You shout over the music to your newest table and give everyone a smile before retreating to the bar. With Joel and Michelle in the corner canoodling at the end of the counter, you couldn’t help but throw up in your mouth a little. Her costume wasn’t going to last much longer, the evidence of a missing nose so apparent. Her costume was falling off her shoulders constantly, it was a bulky old witch dress and it looked ancient.

Your hands run along the bar and pat it eagerly like an impatient puppy just ready for another table and more money.

Suddenly a group of men walk in and the bar gets a tad quieter. The dress shirts they have on are so tight you can see the tank top underneath the fabric. Something about them just stuck out like a sore thumb in the best way possible and you wanted to be the one to serve them.

“Nell, how do I look? I’m gonna take that table and get the best tips for us all tonight.” You giggle and fix your hair while the bartender tells you how good you look. Joel must’ve sensed someone having fun because the next thing you know, an arm was grabbing you and walking you towards the back of the bar away from all the bustle and crowd.

“Ow Joel, get off me. What are you doing?” You shout, grabbing your arm from his grasp and groan while rubbing the tender skin.

“No, you aren’t taking them. They’re out of town assholes that sometimes stop in and it’s nothin’ but issues every time. Let Danny take ‘em.” He almost sounded concerned but the look in his eyes didn’t last long before he looked away.

You stomped your foot softly and groaned, folding your arms across your chest. “Danny doesn’t even pool his tips at the end of the night like he’s supposed to! I can handle it Joel, I’ll call you if I need you to reenact Road house, okay?” You snicker at your reference and walk away before he could argue more, your tray innocently behind you as you walk up to the full table of intimidating men.

Joel was seething in the corner, his tongue running over his teeth against his closed lips while he watched one already get handsy and try to cop a feel under your dress. Joel Miller was not jealous. He was worried for your safety and you were known to get yourself into some crazy things due to miscalculation on your part of common sense. He was almost too aware of how chaotic you could be at times but at this moment it wasn’t a joke to him. He sat back in his chair and turned it so you were in his view the entire conversation. The glasses of whiskey turned to glasses of water so he could be clear minded if things got sticky. You walked back over and he pretended not to overhear your conversation with Nell about the men fawning over you.

Joel rolls his eyes and drinks his water, the annoyance you even entertained those assholes after he told you not to, just sitting deep inside his chest. Your small tray was packed with beers and shots of your top shelf vodka and his eyes widened, already knowing how tonight was going to play out. He sighed, smacking his hand on the bar before getting up to change the song on the jukebox. Searching for what felt like forever, he finally landed on one of his old favorites.

Porn star Dancing by My Darkest Days & Zakk Wylde.

You stupidly sit on one of their laps and try to engage in the conversation but it always turns back to you. Hours go by of the conversation being about you and not in the best way. They’re asking what time you get off, where you got your sexy little outfit, what color were your panties, shit you shouldn’t be asking your waitress. A hand reaches to your neck and squeezes, making your skin crawl inside. They all smell of menthol and nicotine mixed with gray goose, too much liquid courage.

Joel grabs Michelle and starts dancing with her in the corner, her back to you at the table the entire time. He keeps his eyes locked onto you, very very closely. Even when you extend an arm to grab an empty bottle out of the way his eyes are following. They kept tugging you to sit back down, making his blood boil and his teeth clenched tightly. Somehow you managed to slip away for just a moment and make your way to the bathroom, darting around the corner into the pitch black hallway that was sheltered from noise. Joel lets go of Michelle and follows you without any sound, trying not to startle you.

He stands against the wall and listens to your sobs muffled behind the bathroom door. The tears were pure fear and regret. Maybe, just maybe, Joel had a point. Even if you wanted to close their tab and stop serving them it would just make things so much worse for everyone. You got yourself into this mess, now it was up to you to get yourself out of it. You grab a small piece of toilet paper and blot away your tears, the post cry makeup making you look even better than before. Such a silly way of looking at the situation but you couldn’t deny a good cry moment.

A chill ran down your spine as you faced Joel outside of the bathroom, his head hanging to hear better. When the door squeaks open, his head snaps up and his eyes are on yours. With his strong gaze not leaving yours, you clear your throat and shrug like you know nothing.

“W-why are you outside the ladies bathroom?” You knew why he was out here, he probably saw you run in here and wanted to report back to Michelle, or even worse, tell you, “I told you so..” blah blah.

“Are you okay?” His hand rubs his neck as he stands up straight, moving closer to you. He reaches out and grumbles as he wipes away a tear. “Can jus’ ask Danny to finish out the table, s’okay if you change your mind.” Your glossy eyes look up at him and you smile, shaking your head no.

“Can’t. I got this Joel, I just need to get through it and I’m done for the night.” Your hands wrap around your arms, shivering under the A/C vent. Joel’s shoulders drop in frustration and he sighs loudly.

“Darlin’...” he starts, “don’t do this. Look I’ll tip you whatever they were even thinking about and more jus’ don’t do this to yourself.” His soft words were actually making you reconsider but then again, what did he care? You snap out of it and sniffle, shaking off the sadness.

“I’ve got it Joel, promise.” A fake smile passes from your lips and he doesn’t take the bait at all. You both walk down the hall to find the table empty of bodies and three dollars squashed under a shot glass with vodka dripping down the side. Three. Dollars. You embarrassingly grab the money and look around confused as to what you could’ve done to deserve a three dollar tip. “God damnit..” you mutter under your breath. The glass clanks together as you begin to clean off the table, not wanting anyone to see this mortifying crime scene any more than they have to.

Joel’s frame catches in the corner of your eye, his mouth covered by his hand. When you stop cleaning to look at him, he stares right into you and for a split second it doesn’t look like Joel at all. He gets up, snatching the three dollars from your hand and you knew something bad was going to happen. Joel shoves the exit door wide open and smacks the siding of the building. As he marches outside, he sees the fancy car still sitting in the parking lot, the men outside around it cracking jokes and being rowdy.

“Joel…” You call out and immediately run after him, small struts because of your boots. “Joel sto-”

“S’cuse me fellas. Three dollar tip, really?” Joel chuckles and puts a hand on his hip, the look on his face hard as stone. Here we fucking go, you thought to yourself. Everyone from inside gathers outside and you slowly make your way to Joel, his hand flying in your direction motioning you to stop in your tracks.

“What’d you say, dickhead?” One of the men called out, his words semi slurred. His friends laugh and Joel sarcastically laughs before standing up straight.

“See, I don’t know where y’all are from but around here we tip our waitresses real nice. Three dollars? Cmon man.” He was maybe thinking they “forgot” to put down a ten dollar bill or something, no way they meant three dollars.

“Man she was worth three dollars but she can come home with me if she wants for the rest of the tip, know what I mean?” The assholes behind him hoot and holler, clapping their hands together and praising the man for the disgusting comeback.

“Joel stop cmon just drop it it’s fine let’s just go back inside.” You firmly shout, voice cracking from humiliation. Joel turns to look at you and pushes his hand down telling you to calm down. As his boots drag against the gravel making his way to the group of skeezy men, he tuts loudly at them.

“Do I have to teach you a thing or two about manners, asshole? She’s not a fuckin’ fast food burger that you get for three dollars. She’s worth way more than that. You basically groaped her all night, askin’ what color her panties are, when she’s leavin’, how badly does she want your money, but I don’t have to tell you any of that. You know exactly what you’ve been sayin’ to her all while she’s jus’ doin’ her job. So let me ask you this, you do plan on tipping her correctly, yes?” Joel stopped just as he was toe to toe with the man, not a smirk to be found anywhere except on Joel.

“Ye-yeah man um, let me get my wallet.” He hastily reaches into his pocket while he stutters apology after apology to Joel. Just as he’s pulling his hand out, he balls it into a fist all wound back to hit Joel. Never once did it connect with his cheek, never.

Joel grabs the skeeze’s wrist and twists it roughly before throwing him on the ground, his buddies getting up contemplating if they really wanted to do this or not. Joel gets on top of him, throwing punches left and right, grunting with every connection his fist has with skin. Blood trickles down his hand between his fingers and he doesn’t stop until the guy is begging for mercy.

Wiping his nose and breathing in deeply, Joel gets up and grabs the wallet that was supposed to be taken out before all this started. His bloody fingers split it open and find a bunch of cash, flicking through all the bills.

“How much was their bill, darlin’?”

Everyone's eyes were on you and the chattering started to fill your ears.

You clear your throat roughly and walk closer to Joel by just a few steps, not wanting to get too close.

“Uh…I don’t remember. It was around 213 dollars I believe…lots of gray goose shots.” Your eyes went wide when he pulled out two 100 dollar bills and folded them, passing it to you between his index and middle finger. You take it apprehensively, staring at the grunting man rolling around on the ground. Joel nods at you a little and asks if you’re okay. Just as your lips part to tell him thank you, someone is running up on him.

“Joel watch out!” You shout and he pushes you back so much you fall on the ground. A fist hitting him right in the face, “You fuckin’ prick! Wanna piece of me old man?!” The other guy shouts at Joel and hits him, starting to wrestle him on the ground. They roll around causing the gravel dust to stir up and you think quickly on your feet. Going behind the guy trying to wrestle Joel to be on top, you kick him right in the balls with your boots. “Get off of him!” You shriek and grab his hair, tossing him backwards. The audible winces and groans from the crowd echo off the buildings, Joel sits up and looks at you like you were some angel or something.

Reaching out your hand for a lift, you take deep breaths and help him up off his ass.

“How was that for your reenactment? You okay?” He asks as he begins to brush the gravel off his palms. The men were on the ground rolling in pain still, such a funny thing to watch.

Chuckling softly, you turn back to Joel,”Yeah I’m okay. You okay?” You nudge his arm and see his knuckles still dripping blood. A small nod comes from him and you grab his hand slowly to observe the wounds.

“Should get some ice on that Mr.Miller.” The glimmer in his eye takes you and draws you in, standing there holding onto his hand for far too long. Everyone behind you cleared out and went inside, leaving Michelle there alone. She clears her throat and you snap back to earth and drop Joel's hand rather fast.

“Take her home Joel. She’s done.”

“What?!” You shout in complete surprise.

“Mich come on baby I don’t think that’s very fa-” Joel’s reasoning is cut off by a groan from Michelle.

“No! I can’t have a floozy willing to do whatever for tips work here and expect my boyfriend to protect her! You’re done!” She was expressive with her hands just like your mother used to be, which was exactly how you were feeling. A little girl once more and your mom was beyond done with you.

Your tongue pushes against your cheek and you go inside to get your coat and purse. Nell was the only bartender who didn’t treat you like a monster and she started to get pissed off when you told her the news. Joel and Michelle were outside arguing and you stood by the door eavesdropping, careful they couldn’t see you.

“You’ve never once defended me from a creep like that!”

“Oh Michelle, is that what this is about? Really?”

“No, of course not Joel! You know damn well she knew what she was doing dressed like that coming to work and getting on their laps the way she did! What else did she expect from them?!” Her hands were flying up in the air as Joel’s head dropped, shaking side to side.

“Michelle she’s just barely started her life, what did you want me to do, hm? Watch them take advantage of her?!” His arms reached out, searching for something that wasn’t there.

“No but what do you think is gonna happen when she walks around here acting like a slut?!”

As your fast breaths started to fog the glass awaiting Joel’s response or even some sliver of defense, nothing. He said nothing.

Joel knew that wasn’t true. He watched your driveway like a hawk regardless how many times he said he didn't. Tommy was the first and last person you’ve been with since you moved back but that was none of Michelle's business even if you wanted to get with everybody.The door flew open and you walked to your car, getting in the passenger side. All you wanted to do was cry yourself to sleep, Joel could drive. More muffled sentences rang outside the car, something about Joel calling her tomorrow. You felt pretty buzzed after that encounter until overhearing that fuck ass conversation. That was probably the first time anyone has cared so much about your safety, your well-being, you in general. No one has ever willingly stuck up for you like that and beat someone the way Joel did. Not even your own dad has done that or would ever. You must’ve been replaying in your head the images of Joel beating that man so much because all at once you came back to the now, his fingers snapping in front of your face.

“Cmon, we’re home. You’ve got a cut on your knee sweetheart. Let’s go clean it.” He fumbles with your house keys and unlocks the front door, making his way into your house.

“Jus’ sit, I’ll be back. Where’s the bathroom?” Shutting the front door, you point to the left and sit slowly to observe the cut.

It was definitely something. The nylon stocking was tattered and covered with dry blood caked onto the broken skin. Joel arrives with the rubbing alcohol sloshing in the bottle along with a washcloth.

“I didn’t mean to push you down so hard, m’sorry.” Joel kneels down in front of you and rests your foot against his thigh so he can examine how bad it was. Those beautiful brown eyes were getting you again. It didn’t seem so far-fetched to forget everything, even the conversation you overheard, until he pressed the alcohol to your skin. Sucking in a sharp breath, you grab the armrest of the couch and whimper quietly at the contact.

“Ow..Joel that-ah-ooh-that hurts.” You suck in sharply again, his eyes going back to your cut.

“I know baby, I know..I’m sorry, jus’ hold on f’me.” He whispers as he rips the material of your tights until a large hole is created around the scrape. His rough hands covered in blood were so gentle on your leg, his fingers wrapping around the back of your boot covered calf.

“You should really let me bandage up your hand, can at least do that much for you.” The room went silent and all that was heard was Joel’s deep breaths and the washcloth pressing against you. He sighs and grabs a bandaid from where he set it down on the couch cushion, opening it to cover the wound.

With a firm press on the edges, his thumbs smooth over the entire bandaid and he glances up at you hoping you weren’t wincing in pain.

After a long pause he mutters, “I’ll be fine, just need some ice is all. Also um…darlin’..” he started and continues to ever so slightly rub the bandaid.

“I know you overheard ‘Chelle and I talkin and I just wanted to apologize on her behalf. She doesn’t think those things about you and neither do I, okay?” He didn’t sound too sure that he even believed the words coming from his mouth.

You were too emotional to argue with him so a small nod was all you responded with.

It was a bullshit apology and it didn’t even need to come from him but there was too much in your head right now, an apology was the last thing you were concerned about.

Without a word you get up slowly and step onto the front porch with a new pack of cigarettes in your palm. Joel hesitated following but he wasn’t done with you just yet. The front door squeaks open softly and before even turning around you had the cigarette held out for him to take a few drags from.

“Are you uh..are you goin’ to your dad’s barbecue this weekend?” The smoke rolled out of his mouth and he ashes over the railing.

“I’ve thought about it..” You take a puff and pause. “What would I even say? ‘Hey dad uh I know I just got my job here but I got fired because I was dressed like a slut.’ Mmm, I don’t know, Joel.” All the smoke exited your lungs by the time you were finished talking and the glowing orange light was lifted again as your cheeks hollowed taking another hit.

Joel turns to you slightly, holding out his hand with his fingers spread and ready to take your cigarette.

“Jus’ don’t tell him anything. He couldn’t even wish you luck or congratulate you for gettin’ the damn job anyway. Asshole.” His face disappears behind a cloud of smoke and it was probably for the best due to the shit eating grin on your face while his words echoed in your head.

“So you’re finally getting it I see, Mr. Miller.” The cigarette slowly dwindles and he lets you have the last drag.

“I can’t see why he’d ever treat you like that, I wouldn’t dream of treating you that badly and you really know how to work my fuckin’ nerves sometimes, little girl.”

The pair of you laugh and Joel flicks the cigarette butt on the driveway, shoving his non fucked up hand in his pocket. The dim porchlight hardly illuminated his face but the moon on the other side made up for what you couldn’t see.

“Get some sleep, you’ve got job hunting to do tomorrow.” His boots clunked against the wooden floorboards of the steps, gravel crunching as he got further across the way to his sidewalk.

“Oh, one more thing sweetheart!” He shouts from his porch.

“I’ll back you up no matter what. He doesn’t know you anymore, not like I do.”

Your face was hot to the touch from his words. Joel Miller finally finding his heart? Who knew he had one? Each of your front doors closed and you went to sleep that night just imagining how the barbeque is going to go. Joel fell asleep that night with a bag of frozen peas on his knuckles and a small grin on his face.

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strangererotica · 9 days

Text

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Jim Hopper x reader • Part two of a series; read part one here • Includes unprotected sex, angst, age gap, piss is briefly mentioned as reader has a big ol squirt yee haw 💦 dubcon due to Hopper being under the influence of magick✨

The ethics of love spells have always been debated amongst witches, with the majority agreeing that any spell which alters another’s free will is morally wrong. But when you returned home to Hawkins from college on break, you made the decision to cast such a spell on your old crush, Chief Jim Hopper. Since briefly meeting you again after your return home, Hopper has fallen more deeply in love and lust with you every day. As the results of your spell reveal themselves, will you be able to accept their consequences…?

꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱

( Tuesday morning )

The rain pelting Hopper’s windshield forced him out of his trance. How long had he been sitting behind the wheel of his Blazer, parked in his usual space in front of the station, completely lost in thoughts of you?

This new pattern of behavior was completely unlike him, Hopper conceded. He’d been unable to shake a rapidly growing obsession with you. And the worst thing about it wasn’t the fact that for the first time in years, Hopper was actually losing control over a woman. The part of the situation that truly set Hopper’s conscience on fire was that the object of his lust happened to be half his age…and his best friend’s daughter…

Hopper hoped that by focusing on business-as-usual at the station, he’d be able to free his mind of you for awhile. He put out his cigarette that was burning down, and reached into his pocket to exchange it for a new one. Hopper’s eyes caught the form of someone standing on the far side of the station. He squinted through the raindrops peppering his windshield, focusing…on you.

The moment Hopper realized who he was looking at, he practically tore the door open to exit his vehicle. He didn’t remember to close it behind him, unaware that he’d also left his keys in the ignition. Hopper’s gait quickened till he was so close he could see the way your lips began to turn in a coy smile. And then, as quickly as you’d appeared…the image of you was gone.

Hopper stopped dead in his tracks, as if coming out from under a spell. His sudden burst of exertion caught up with him, breath huffing from his parted lips, his eyes wide and darting back and forth around the space you’d just been standing.

He blinked several times, rain dancing off his eyelashes, dripping from the brim of his hat. A grim realization swept over Hopper, words materializing in his mind in a voice that sounded like yours: “It’s too late, Jim. I’m inside you now. You have to have me…”

Hopper’s steps faltered as he made his way back to his vehicle. He removed his keys before distractedly closing the door and heading for the station’s entrance. Was he losing his mind? The image of you had been so…real.

As he entered the station, Hopper tried to focus on the strong scent of fresh coffee that greeted him. He removed his rain-soaked jacket and hat, nodding a polite but insincere greeting to officers Powell and Callahan as he passed them on the way to his office. Hopper turned the corner and closed the office door behind him, locking it immediately. He felt a small sense of comfort at being separated from the others. Hopper wanted to be alone right now, more than anything. He needed privacy, a chance to contemplate his options and formulate a plan of action. Because for all his failed attempts at resistance, Hopper was a beaten man. And he was ready to admit it.

Nothing in the world mattered anymore, he realized, besides having you. Hopper sat behind his desk and poured himself a shot of whiskey from the bottle he kept locked in the bottom drawer. With a cigarette alternating between his lips and fingers, Hopper allowed his mind to wander. And inevitably, it wandered to images of you, pornographic images that normally, Hopper would have made at least some attempt to resist.

But now, he realized such efforts were pointless. Whatever sense of willpower Hopper had was useless against the spell your body had over him. And as usual, Hopper’s own body responded quickly to the stimulation of the filthy scenes his mind was weaving. He slouched back in his chair, undoing his belt so automatically that he wasn’t even aware he had till his cock was inside his fist. Hopper’s eyes fluttered closed as he allowed himself to succumb fully, without reservation, to the fantasy of you. Because unlike all the times he’d done this before, it wasn’t going to be a fantasy much longer. Hopper was determined to make having you a reality…and soon.

His thoughts drifted to that evening a little over a week ago. The first time he’d seen you, this new version of you, a woman now, who bore no resemblance to the clumsy teenager you’d been in Hopper’s memory. He’d immediately felt an attraction to you, and how could he not? Everything about you was perfect in Hopper’s eyes, the way your body moved around the room, your soft laughter which stirred something deep inside Hopper, waking a yearning he hadn’t experienced in a long time…and your smile…fuck, that smile…the one that had Hopper’s cynical heart beating with wonder again, rattling the dust off the joy inside him that had been buried for decades…

He’d known it then, the moment he’d seen you: Hopper was in love with you. Throughout the following week, his feelings for you had only grown stronger. Fantasies of your sweetness, and the corruption of it, permeated Hopper’s every waking thought. You even followed him into his dreams, fulfilling Hopper’s desires even as he slept. He’d wake up in the night drenched in sweat, his hard cock throbbing against his stomach. Hopper would come seconds later, watching himself ejaculate almost in a state of trance, still half asleep. Hopper would lay panting for awhile, his stomach wet and sticky with his own release, before wiping himself clean and having a cigarette. After about fifteen minutes of remorse and post-nut clarity, Hopper would have himself (nearly) convinced that his dreams were just that, and not a reflection of how he truly felt. But when he woke up hours later with his usual morning wood, Hopper needed to take care of it. And with his mind fully rested, his thoughts inevitably turned back to you…

The sounds of people talking outside Hopper’s office faded, while his thoughts grew louder…and filthier. As he languidly pumped his cock back and forth in his fist, Hopper allowed himself to indulge perhaps his most taboo fantasy of all…

In his mind, you were there in Hopper’s office with him, bound and gagged beneath his desk. Your wrists were restrained by Hopper’s handcuffs, your mouth full of him. He was throat training you, his cock nestled on the wet bed of your tongue. Your eyes were trained on Hopper’s as he gazed down at you knelt between his knees. He cupped your face in his hand, stroking the pad of his thumb along your cheek.

You’d been at this for awhile now; Hopper knew you must be tired. But like any new pet, you needed to be trained; and by training your throat to fit him, you’d be able to take Hopper as deeply as he wanted, whenever he wanted-

A knock on Hopper’s office door startled him. His eyes flew open, and with a strained, husky voice, he snapped “-WHAT?”

“Chief?” Flo responded. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Hopper rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. Just what he needed right now, with his pants down and his dick in his hand. A goddamn visitor.

“Well tell them I’m busy,” Hopper growled. “Whatever it is-whoever it is-they can wait…”

There was a pause from behind the door. “…She’s really adamant, Hop,” Flo added, her voice a bit more assertive. “Pretty little thing; Sounds like she might be in some kind of trouble.”

Hopper sighed heavily, irritated further by the realization that Flo was not going to send this girl away. He rose from his desk, frustratedly shoving his chair out from behind him. Hopper tucked his dick away in his pants as best as he could, but his erection was still very obvious. He swiped a folder from his desk and held it in front of his groin as he made his way to the door, pulling it open more aggressively than he needed to.

The woman standing beside Flo took Hopper’s breath away…just as she had a little over a week ago, and every day since.

“Hello, Jim,” you said, smiling up at Hopper warmly. He felt his knees tremble, a blush washing over his cheeks. Embarrassed by his uncharacteristic display of vulnerability, Hopper cleared his throat and attempted to compose himself. “Uh…hey, (y/n),” he said, his voice wavering, and then to Flo, “thanks, I’ve got her.” Flo nodded, and turned back down the hall.

Hopper wet his lips, as they’d suddenly gone dry. You cocked an eyebrow at him, playfully pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “…Aren’t you gonna invite me in?” you asked, breaking the awkward silence Hopper’s staring at you had created.

“Oh, sorry-yeah,” Hopper stammered, stepping aside to let you pass through the doorway. “Please, come inside.”

He noticed as you lingered in the doorway, and when he closed it, how your hand slipped behind his to press the lock in. Hopper didn’t question why you’d locked the door, because somehow…he already knew.

“Flo said you-.” Hopper swallowed as you sat down in the chair in front of his desk, casually spreading your legs and draping one over an arm of the chair like it was nothing, your eyes never leaving Hopper’s. “-You-uh…” His eyes drank in every inch of you. “…You have a problem of some kind?” he finished, averting his gaze to his desk.

“Look at me,” you ordered, and Hopper did. You were leaning forward in the chair now, an intensity in your expression that had been absent before. “That’s better,” you grinned, and leaned back slightly. “And yes, Jim, I do have a problem.”

Hopper nodded, his lips parted in anticipation, beads of sweat forming along his hairline. “…I can help,” he breathed, his voice faltering again. “Just, tell me how, and I will…anything…”

Hopper realized the folder was still in his hand, but he no longer needed it, seated behind his desk. He was still rock hard inside his pants, even more so now due to your presence. You watched as he placed the folder on his desk, knowing exactly what he’d been using it to conceal…

“Jim,” you began. “It’s a personal problem I’ve come to see you about…do you understand?”

Hopper nodded, although in truth, he had no clue why you’d shown up at the station today.

“I need you to help me with my…” You glanced away for a brief moment, almost bashfully. “Impatience,” you finished. Hopper frowned slightly, confused. “Because,” you continued. “I was going to wait for you to come back to my house and fuck me-.”

Hopper’s chest dropped as all the air in his lungs left him at once.

“-But I got impatient,” you concluded. “And I realize, impatience is a flaw in my character. I’d like your advice on how to improve it…” Hopper’s jaw tensed; he wasn’t sure what he was hearing, or where the line between reality and his own fantasies ended. Had you really just said those words to him?

“Since you’re…you know-,” you shrugged. “Older, I figured you must be wiser, too. And I also figured, you could teach me some things.”

Hopper’s confused expression deepened slightly. “You…need someone older?” he asked tentatively, choosing his words carefully, as he wasn’t sure if any of this was happening at all. “To teach you…” Hopper cleared his throat again. “…Things?”

“Mm-hmm,” you replied. “And one of them is patience.” You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. Hopper’s eyes slid between your now partially-exposed breasts.

“One of them?” he asked. “What are the other things?”

You hooked a finger beneath the front of your shirt and pulled it down, allowing your breasts to spill out over the fabric. Hopper’s eyebrows lifted, his lips pressed together in a hard line, his nostrils flared slightly. His entire body was tensed, hands clenched into fists, his heels digging into the floor.

Your eyes were glossy, wide, innocent, even as your nakedness was fully on display. “Can you help me, Jim?” you asked sweetly, rising to your feet. You placed your palms against Hopper’s desk, leaning over it, allowing your breasts to linger mere inches from his face. “…Please?”

Hopper was moving purely on instinct at this point. Whether this was a dream, reality, or some combination of the two, he was no longer in control of his actions. Hopper stood up, bumping the prominent erection in his pants on the underside of his desk. He grunted at the discomfort and his own awkwardness, but quickly forgot about both as soon as his lips met yours.

Hopper pulled your body into him, lifting you slightly and wrapping your legs around his thigh. You curved your hips upward, grinding gently against him, savoring the way he grunted in pleasure as you humped his thigh. “God you’re so fucking beautiful,” Hopper murmured against your lips, in between kisses. “I’ve been-mmm-I’ve wanted this ever since you came home-.”

You bit down slightly on Hopper’s lip, shushing him. “I know,” you said, sucking at the mark your teeth had made in his skin. “So show me everything you’ve dreamed of doing to me, Jim.” You slipped your tongue between his lips, then pulled away for a moment. “Show me all the ways you’ve wanted to fuck me…”

Hopper took you by your shoulders, and guided you onto your knees. “Think I want that pretty mouth first,” he said. “Since it’s being so cocky today, maybe it should have a cock in it…”

You smiled widely, going to your knees obediently before Hopper. He removed his cock from his pants and smacked his tip against your lips, slicking them with precum. “You look even better on your knees than I imagined you would,” Hopper murmured. He rubbed his tip along your lips, spreading them apart, smearing his precum between them. It tasted sweet and mildly salty on your tongue as you curved it against the underside of Hopper’s cock.

He gently held your head in place while guiding himself between your lips. Hopper groaned as you enveloped him, the moist warmth of your cheeks cushioning his shaft as he used your mouth to stroke himself. “Fuck, you fit me like a glove, kid,” Hopper groaned. His fingernails dug lightly into your scalp as he pressed his cock deeper, stretching your throat. “That’s my girl, takin’ it just like a bitch, like you were made for it…” Hopper’s degrading words tugged at your core, had your clit beginning to throb. You gurgled and choked on Hopper’s cock with every thrust, your gag reflex activating every time his fat tip prodded the back of your throat.

Hopper moaned, his hips faltering. “Shit,” he cursed. “You’re getting me too close, baby, ‘an I’m not done with you yet-.” He lifted you by the shoulders and tossed you onto his desk, spreading your legs and burying his face between them. The shock of Hopper’s lips immediately honing in on your clit had you reeling, your thighs shaking as Hopper suckled your plump, sensitive bud and made out with your pussy in wet, sloppy kisses. He slipped his tongue between your labia, swirling your slick between your lips before penetrating you with his tongue. Hopper lapped at your pussy, the texture of his tongue soft, but its muscle rigid as he stiffened it to fuck into you.

You came on Hopper’s tongue, your thighs draped over his shoulders, his face covered in your slippery release as a mix of cum and piss expelled from within you and saturated Hopper’s beard and neck. He rose from between your thighs, his face dripping with you, hair messy and sprinkled with stray drops of your cum. Hopper mounted you, splayed and helpless on his desk, and entered you in one abrupt, brutal thrust. He grit his teeth and groaned from behind them, your soft whimpers making it all the more difficult for him not to immediately empty himself inside you. The squeeze of your cunt was like a warm, welcoming vice, the sweetest kind of death a man could ever ask for, to be crushed between the sopping grip of your tight, firm walls.

The next five minutes were a white-hot blur for both you and Hopper, a mix of teeth and tongues on skin and his cock punching places inside you that didn’t seem anatomically possible. Hopper’s breath grew shorter and his pace more frenetic the closer he came to climax. He started to pull out as he felt the beginning of what would likely be the most intense orgasm he’d ever had. But you squeezed your thighs around his waist, forcing him deeper, and with a firm, aggressive voice, ordered “NO.”

Hopper was so close, and you were so certain, so insistent, that he could hardly resist the temptation to fill you up. And next words that left your lips in a pretty, breathless request, were so sweet, so soft, Hopper felt his already weak defenses fall completely… “Come inside me, Jim…please…”

There it was, Hopper’s favorite part of every fantasy he’d had about you. The part where you begged for his cum. At that point, no amount of common sense or rational judgment would have convinced Hopper not to paint your guts in his cum. Growling against your shoulder, Hopper pumped three final thrusts inside you, emptying his load between your plush, puffy walls.

His thighs were shaking, his whole body trembling over yours. The sound of voices murmuring from beyond Hopper’s office began to fade into his awareness, and he realized that everyone in the station must have heard what the two of you were doing. A dull panic began to settle in Hopper’s stomach. Hawkins was a small town; rumors spread quickly here. And gossip about the famously-promiscuous Chief of Police were especially salacious in the townsfolk’s minds. As the weight of Hopper’s actions began to settle over him, he suddenly felt…ashamed.

Hopper abruptly pulled out of you, and reached for a box of tissues nearby. You watched him remove a few and hurriedly clean the cum off his dick, as best he could anyway. He wadded the tissues into a ball and dropped them into a waste bin, a grim expression his face.

“What’s wrong, Jim?” you asked, noting how he kept glancing at the door. The voices murmuring outside his office had turned to whispers…sharp, judging whispers, and Hopper began to fear the worst. He looked back at you, and realized with a bitter remorse that he’d very possibly just ruined his entire career. “Get out,” Hopper said flatly, and you balked at his callous tone.

“Are you fucking serious?” you asked, closing your legs and sliding off his desk. Hopper shook his head at you, the effects of your charms beginning to fade. Angry, defiant, you stood directly in front of him, forcing him to look at you. Hopper stepped back, fixing his clothes and still shaking his head as if wishing to rid himself of a poison. “That’s not gonna work,” he insisted, his voice hollow. “Whatever that is-this fucking hold you’ve have over me-it’s done…I can’t do this…”

You rushed for him, tears burning your eyes but Hopper grabbed you by the wrists before you could strike him. “Get…out,” he glared down at you. “And think about what we’ve done…about what this means for both of us…”

You spat at Hopper’s face, but he didn’t react. When he released your wrists, you made a quick exit for the door, a dangerous rage boiling inside your gut.

As soon as you opened the door, several pairs of eyes met yours. Practically everyone at the station was crowded into the hallway outside Hopper’s office, quickly scattering when they saw you. Your cheeks burned pink with embarrassment… You’d gotten what you wanted, but at a price. If even one of those people spread word about what had happened, the results could be catastrophic for your reputation, for Hopper’s career, and maybe most of all, you feared that a friendship your dad valued so much, would be ruined…

Bowing your head in shame, you quickly walked through the station, grateful for the cold rain that hit your face when you made it outside. The spell was completed; the fun was over. And now, you were left picking up the pieces your selfish game had left in its wake, the potential heartache you’d unleashed. Maybe you had learned a lesson in patience, after all…that rather than use magick to bend someone’s desire toward you, it was better to wait for love to find you, organically. Regardless, the damage was now done.

You climbed inside your car and turned on the radio, trying to lose yourself in the words and melody playing. Part of you wanted to pull onto the highway and leave Hawkins behind forever, to rid yourself of the burden of seeing your father’s face when he heard what his daughter and a man he thought he could trust had done.

You backed out of the station’s parking lot and pulled onto the main road through downtown. On the way to your house, you decided that you’d have to see Hopper again, to admit that you’d used him, that he’d been tricked. But what you didn’t know, was that for all your efforts, the spell hadn’t worked…at least, not in a literal sense. Jim Hopper had been captivated by you, enchanted, obsessed…and in spite of his hateful behavior back in his office, he still was. You were good at deception, it seems, but not so good at spell craft. Hopper was in love with you. And it would take more than a scandal big enough to turn all of Hawkins on its head to change that…

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@mrshopper84 🩷

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