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tonycries · 2 months

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Men In Uniform F*ck Better!

Synopsis. You want him and you want him now. It doesn’t matter if you have to fúck him in his uniform - in fact, it just might make it better.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] professor! Gojo x Reader, yakuza boss! Sukuna x Reader, calligrapher! Geto x Reader, baker! Nanami x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, no curses! AU, oral (male + female receiving), men at work, manhandling, marking, slight gúnplay, degradation, smacking, choking, Sukuna is mean but he’s a yakuza boss so, spitting, semi-public, brat-taming, bunch of heinous stuff idek, cúmplay, slight foodplay, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.6k

A/N. Was gonna add Choso and Toji but this got too long, dw I’ll make separate ones about them later <3

♡ NANAMI KENTO - The baker

Watching Nanami Kento at work could make even the most ardent non-believers worship God.

Kneading. Spreading. Every motion of his strong hands deliberate and purposeful. Muscles rippling in his forearms with each movement.

You watch - almost hypnotized - as the devilishly handsome baker at your favorite bakery prepares his dough for tomorrow. By God were you glad you managed to bat your lashes just enough to convince him to let you stay after closing - for educational purposes, of course.

Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily as long fingers sink deep into the dough, squeezing. Pulling. Teasing. A delicate bead of sweat trickling down between his furrowed brows and disappearing enticingly between those chiseled collarbones. Oh, how you wished it was you under his hands instead.

“How long’s it gonna take? I see the way you’re watching me, y’know.”

A low rumble breaks the silence, sending tremors down your spine - all the way to your already-heated cunt. Eyes snapping up to meet Nanami’s darkened ones, your face burns at being caught red-handed. Stammering out excuses, “W-wha- I didn’t-”

Soft dough now forgotten, he steps closer, presence overwhelming, dominating the space around you. “Always do. Watching me with such slutty eyes.” Low words that make your pussy throb. You’re dumbfounded by his eyes, intense and stripping - making you feel so exposed and vulnerable before him.

In the dimly lit kitchen, the tension is palpable. You can’t help but lean into his presence, standing toe-to-toe with his muscled front.

With a slight smirk curling his lips, Nanami leans in, his breath warm against your ear and making you shudder in anticipation. “But don’t worry, darling. I like it.”

They’re the last words said before he pulls you into a searing kiss, a hand tight around your neck, neat fingernails digging into your skin, pulling you impossibly closer to him as his tongue demands entry, intertwining with yours. It’s possessive, it’s feral - and tastes oh so very sweet - just like his delicate pastries.

Nanami breathes you in like a man starved. A desperation that carries into your frantic fingers untying that godforsaken apron.

And in his steady hands as they lift you up as if you weigh nothing, fingers groping and kneading your ass as he seats you on the kitchen counter. The surface cold under where your skirt was messily bunched up. “Mm- hngh- please, Nanami.”

Pulling away with a final bite to your lower lip, he leaves a trail of wet, sloppy kisses down your body that send chills racing through you, and have your thighs rubbing together for an ounce of friction.

“Tch” Of course, he wasn’t a fan. Grip bruising, manhandling your legs open so shamefully, he splays you out deliciously for him. Nanami’s greedy gaze devours the sinful way your dripping cunt leaks through your thin panties - ones you wore especially for him.

Seems he knew too, pushing his glasses up contemplatively before dropping onto his knees with a fucked out oh. “Always knew you were naughty, darling, but to be such a slut? Driving me crazy, hm?” his voice thick with desire and whispered mere millimeters away from your swollen folds.

Moaning softly, you arch your back into the warm breath hitting your quivering cunt, whining out an embarrassed “Noo- only for you, Nanami.”

“Oh yeah?” Huffing out a dark chuckle, he all but rips off your soaked panties. The tattered fabric stark against the sterile floor. You gasp at the cold air that hits your heated cunt - but not for long, because Nanami’s hot mouth is on it like a man dying of thirst.

Nose-deep in your pussy, the cold metal of his glasses makes you flinch in sensitivity. His hands spread your cunt bruisingly, letting his tongue bully it’s way past your folds, urgently lapping at your juices as if you were the sweetest damn thing he’s ever tasted.

Chin hitting your cunt, nose rubbing against your pulsing clit, he makes out with your sloppy pussy in methodical, merciless movements of his tongue that have you keening and bucking your hips for more more more.

Looking up at you over his glasses, his hungry gaze devours your half-lidded eyes, the grip searing on his hair, and the whimpers of his name leaving your swollen lips just as greedily as the mouth on your slutty cunt.

“Wanted this right, darling?” he murmurs, lips hot against your own. Vibrations making slick bead out of your cunt and pool onto his waiting lips. “Wanted to break under my hands?”

“Yes. Yes, yes yes, s’all I’ve wanted.” teary whimpers leave your bruised lips, you craved the sting of his hands, the burn of his fingers. Your hips buck uncontrollably, grinding yourself against his mouth as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Hands now groping every inch of skin he could find, leaving pretty purple marks that remind you of his mouth-watering pies.

Exploring every curve and valley, bending you to his will, languid where his tongue was merciless. Savoring you. Groping your breasts, squeezing your ass, as if he wanted everything all at once.

Your entire body was sore now. Cunt throbbing in sympathy with the tender flesh. Marks littering your skin as if you’d been thrown to the wolves. Ah, all these weeks you’d been right - heaven really was in Nanami Kento’s hands. And right now you were putty in them.

He grasped your thighs, squeezing them roughly and lifting them higher, opening you wider for his unforgiving pace. Clearly enjoying the way your face contorted in pain and pleasure, Kento slipped a finger inside you. One. Then two. Stretching you to your limits. Spreading open your already-stretched entrance further.

His fingers frantic now, fucked-out, jerky movements. Wilder. Animalistic. Driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Open your mouth.”

You listen - drunk on his tongue as yours lolls out so lewdly. The taste hits you before the realization - sweet sugar and the taste of you on your tongue as two thick fingers are shoved into your mouth. They reach the back of your throat, pressing hard onto your tongue. You force yourself to fight off the gagging as some animalistic part of you sucks desperately on them for the sweet, sweet taste.

“Almost as sweet as you.” Nanami groans, words muffled into your cunt and sending white-hot pleasure racing up your spine. Words hanging in the air, he speeds up the movements of his mouth, frantic movements matching your need for more.

Your climax hits you with a jolt, cumming till you see stars behind your eyes. Maybe it was his words, maybe it was the way his tongue quirked just right on your throbbing clit to make you throw your head back as you fell apart underneath him.

“Hngh- Oh fuck, Nanami. M’cum- cumming!” you whine, grinding your cunt down impossibly harder on his pretty face. Fingers tangled in his silky blond locks as you force him deeper, riding out your high greedily.

You’re still dazed - vision blurry as Nanami pulls away from your cunt with a lewd squelch! getting up from his position kneeling on the floor. “So delicious on m’tongue, darling.”

Devastatingly handsome face flushed, breaths ragged, muscled front now pressing against your sinfully spread legs. And in your orgasm-hazed mind you still manage to hear the arousing clink of a belt unbuckling, and the metallic screech against marble of the nearby bowl of your favorite frosting being pulled closer. White - to match the precum dribbling down his leaking cock.

The distinct feeling of something wet and achingly hard against your needy cunt.

Oh. Ah, it really was a sweet, sweet life.

♡ GETO SUGURU - The calligrapher

You didn’t exactly think the live calligraphy show your friend dragged you to was about to have you on the edge of your seat.

But here you were.

Eyes locked on the way the tall figure onstage, clad in a dark yukata - sinfully slipping off to reveal a milky, toned shoulder. Geto Suguru exudes an air of raw sexuality that the entire audience was aware of, eyes not being able to decide between the masterpiece on the canvas or the masterpiece of a man on stage.

His fingers, long and agile, effortlessly over the bamboo pen. Each stroke a sensual caress, dark eyes pools of desire that match his long, flowing locks, and the inky characters on the page.

Chest heaving with passion, with a final, dramatic sweep of his arm, Geto completes the last stroke. And as the audience erupts into applause, you merely stay rooted to your seat, thighs pressing together and breath caught in your throat - only one thought ringing in your mind.

You just had to have him.

Which is why you found yourself following your friend to the chaotic atmosphere backstage. But despite the buzz of activity, you could still hear Geto’s deep, velvety voice carrying through the crowd.

Pushing through the sea of people, “Ah! Long time no see, Geto-san. This is my friend, she really enjoyed your performance tonight,” your friend introduced, gesturing towards you.

Eyes gleaming he turns to you, “Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, I enjoyed it very much.” you grin, batting your lashes. Relishing in the way Geto’s dark eyes appraise you from head to toe. Taking in every inch of you - and you do the same.

Geto’s eyes harden, as if deciding on something. “I’m flattered. Why don’t you two lovely ladies join me for some drinks with the crew?”

Yeah, you had to have him - you just didn’t think that would be so easy.

Walls lined with paintings, the scent of ink and sin hung heavy in the air, as you two snuck away from the animated group downing celebratory shots. Geto’s hand hot in yours as he leads you down a dimly-lit corridor to “his favorite lil’ spot”, as he’d whispered to you.

You could tell you were getting closer - because Geto promptly pulls you closer, hands grasping your waist possessively.

“No turning back now, pretty girl.” he whispers, breath hot against your ear.

“S’all I want, Suguru.” you mutter, desire coursing through you like a wildfire, pooling into something sticky and hot at your cunt.

Perhaps seeing the pure, feral need in your eyes, Suguru murmurs, leaving no room for disagreement now, “Follow me.”

The room he led you to was heady with seductive candles, beautiful artwork lining the walls. His own - you assume, as Suguru leads you to a low wooden table in the center of the room. On it is a bottle of sake and two cups.

Movements fluid and precise, Suguru pours the sake, filling it to the brim. He hands it to you, eyes never leaving your face. “Drink up, pretty girl.” he hums, low and seductive. And honestly fuck stranger danger, how could you not when he looks at you like that?

So you drink, sake burning its way down your throat. Predatory eyes locked on you as you set down the cup, Suguru’s mouth quirks up into a sly grin around his as he asks, “Liked it?”

You’ve barely gotten out the nod - not trusting yourself to speak - before Suguru downs his shot abruptly, slamming down the cup with a thunk!

Lips parting slightly, slender fingers squish your cheeks together into an almost-embarrasing pout. Forcing you to look up at him with an almost predatory grace as he looms closer. You don’t know if you should’ve expected the steady, warm stream of sake and saliva that hits your tongue. Sliding so obscenely down your throat.

Guess Suguru Geto was filthy in bed where he was the embodiment of grace in public.

It’s sweet on your tongue - both the sake and Suguru.

Eyes glassy, a mixture of sake and drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth - Suguru really can’t help the lips that come crashing down on yours, tongue plunging deep into your mouth. His tongue was relentless, keeping yours intertwined in a heady kiss.

Arms wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer to his heated body. Hands tugging on your hair, mapping your curves. All the way up to cup your breasts, thumbs running tight, little circles around your perked nipples.

You moan into the heated kiss as something rock-hard pokes your thigh. Hand greedily grabbing at his yukata with the need for more.

Breaking the kiss, Suguru’s breaths come in ragged gasps. “On your knees, pretty girl.”

And what Geto Suguru wants, Geto Suguru gets.

Which is why you were sat, eyes hungry and greedily watching the way Suguru slowly, and deliberately peels open the front of his yukata, exposing his toned torso. A sly grin curling his lips at you gape at his leaking cock, standing proud and achingly hard. Thick and unforgiving.

Fuck, could you really take him in your mouth? He was at least twice as big as anyone else you’ve been with before…

“Open.” he orders, voice low and commanding and making your cunt clench so deliciously in anticipation. Suguru’s flushed tip pokes your lips - glossy with sake and saliva - precum salty on your tongue. God, he was huge. Parting your mouth wider, lips stretching around his length you desperately try to fuck him into your mouth - eager to please.

But it just wasn’t enough.

Because Suguru has a searing grip on your hair, holding your head steady as he pushed his cock all the way down your throat. Delicate veins throbbing against the roof of your mouth as he starts up a steady, merciless pace fucking your mouth as if you were nothing but a fucktoy.

“C’mon now, you said s’all you want. Better act like it, pretty girl.” he chuckles darkly, pushing you impossibly further down so that your nose presses into the tufts of thick, black hair at his pelvis. Like delicate strokes of a fine art. Breathing in the heady, masculine scent so sinfully.

This man is a masterpiece, you think deliriously - completely cock-drunk as you gag around his length, eyes burning at the way his fat tip hits your abused throat. Over and over. A ceaseless cadence you were losing your mind to.

“Oh, fuck. Yeah, jus’ like that.” he hisses, as you tongue at his slit. Fingers deftly pressing around your neck to feel his dick ramming down your throat.

The once-serene room rings with your pathetic, wet gurgles around Suguru’s cock and the smacking of skin on skin as his heavy balls hit your chin. “Take it, take it all.”

You moan, body arching as you claw at his toned hips for some semblance of stability. Nails digging neat lines down his milky skin. Balls tightening, he thrusts animalistically into your mouth, each one deeper and harder than the last, cock sliding in and out of you brutally.

Messy.

Saliva and precum drip down his length, dirtying his yukata. Tears streak down your cheeks onto Suguru’s wrist, fingers tightening ferally around your throat. Blood roaring in your ears, choking at both the throbbing cock and the hand blocking your airway.

It was so fucking messy.

So it only made sense that Suguru’s orgasm was the same.

With a guttural cry of your name, Suguru came in hot spurts of cum, shooting rope after rope down your ready throat as his cock pulsed and stuttered in your mouth. You felt so dirty, his seed pooling on your tongue.

But he wasn’t done - no, far from it - pulling out from your abused mouth with a lewd pop! Twitching cock heavy on your face as he paints your face white. Hips bucking deliriously, a smug smirk playing on his lips at his masterpiece.

Face and mouth covered in his cum, fucked out enough that you basically had heart eyes looking at Suguru, you ready yourself to swallow it all. Needing to taste Suguru immediately.

Ah, but one can’t get everything they want.

Because Suguru drops to his knees, hand still tight around your throat as he captures your lips with his. Teeth clashing, lips bruising, forcing his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself. Tasting you. It was absolutely animalistic.

A barely-lucid, disappointed whine leaves your swollen lips as he pulls away. Only to spit once. Twice. Three times on your face.

You flinch as wads of saliva and his cum hit your face, warm and dripping down your cheeks. Staining the pristine tatami mats below as they fall with a resounding tap! tap! tap!

And you gladly offer yourself up for the abuse. A fucked out smile spreading across your face as you take in the feeling of being so debauched by Suguru. Somewhat-delirious, you barely register the dark mutter against your ear, “Hope you’re not tapping out yet, pretty girl. I haven’t even gotten out my paintbrushes yet.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - The yakuza boss

“Strip.”

Standing in the dimly lit room, red-hot irritation flashes behind your eyes as you bristle at the words falling out of his mouth - devastatingly handsome had it not been for that smug, leering smirk.

Eyes half-lidded, long legs spread on that gaudy armchair, smoke falling from Sukuna’s lips as he stares at you intently. Eyes piercing through yours over his cigar. Demanding compliance.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you rip your gaze from his, flitting panickedly between the imposing yakuza boss in front of you - all alluring tattoos, and heavy, gold rings - and the glinting pistol that lay silently on one, muscular thigh.

You can feel the heat of his gaze burning into your skin as your hands tremble, fumbling with those tedious buttons. Breathing heavy, nipples hardening - your top hits the floor. God, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into.

Cursing your father’s debt, you move on to your pants. Desperately trying to avoid catching a glimpse of those blown-out pupils, something prickly and hot pooling in your stomach. Shit. You won’t start liking this - you refuse to start liking this.

One by one, it falls away. Leaving you bare and completely exposed under Sukuna’s intense scrutiny. A low growl escapes his lips at the way your thighs clench together so sinfully, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

“Come here, doll.” Low, raspy words that go straight to your cunt. But you steel yourself, heels clacking against the polished floor as you step closer. And closer. Watching the way he drinks in your naked form.

But apparently too slow.

Before you can even react, a muscled arm reaches out, pulling you to fall into his waiting lap, straddling those toned hips. A jolt of electricity going through your body as you register the cold metal of the gun digging into your leg.

Sukuna leans forward, the scent of tobacco and sin overwhelming your senses. “Dance f’me.”

Shit. How dare he talk to you this way - and how dare you let your pussy clench in anticipation at his demeaning tone.

Biting back a groan at the way your hardened nipples brush against his button-up, you tentatively roll your hips forward. A thrill going straight to your pussy as something long and thick presses against you. Involuntarily, you press closer, grinding against him. Hard.

Large, calloused hands find your ass. Squeezing roughly to pull you closer, rocking your hips back and forth on his throbbing erection. Back and forth back and forth back and-

Cool metal pressed against your skin - the barrel of his glinting gun pressed lightly against your forehead. Goosebumps erupt down your spine, painfully prickling at your skin as you realize just what the fuck he was doing. “As much as I love you humping me like a bitch in heat, doll. I asked you to dance f’me.” he murmurs, tone was positively dripping with something dark and dangerous.

Well, you think, gritting your teeth in determination. Might as well give the bastard what he asks for.

Staring defiantly right into those darkened, intense eyes, you begin moving your body agonizingly slow. Hands tantalizingly tracing the outline of your body. Teasingly caressing the skin, sliding your fingers along your collarbone, down your rib cage, grazing your navel before slithering lower. Lower.

Your soaked cunt forming a wet patch right on his straining erection.

Sukuna’s eyes follow your every move - every circle of your hips down on his throbbing bulge. The corner of his mouth curving into a satisfied smile as he takes in the sight of you so sinful and shamefully exposed for him.

The desire simmering beneath his composed exterior is basically palpable.

And then, it snaps.

Suddenly, his arm snaps up, grabbing bruisingly at your waist. With a slow, deliberate motion, he takes a long drag of his cigar - blowing the smoke right in your face, the warm breath mingling with the heady air.

Your surprised gasp is swallowed by his heated kiss, tongues wrestling as a hand digs into the tender skin of your neck. As if he owns you.

Hips bucking wildly, and more frantically on Sukuna’s clothed cock - the expensive fabric of his pants now wet with your slick and his precum. You lose yourself in the moment.

But what you do register is the sharp unzipping of his pants.

Snapping your eyes open, they meet with the large, leaking cock now pulsing in his hands, prominent veins glistening with precum that dribbles down his flushed head. Pulling away, you rip your gaze from his throbbing erection to look in his eyes - with what, fear? Anticipation? Both?

Sukuna lounges back on his armchair leisurely, relishing the way you watch - somewhat-awestruck - as his large hand begins moving in small, unhurried motions up and down his rock-hard length.

A harsh push of the barrel against your forehead snaps you out of your debauched reverie. “Didn’t tell ya to stop, did I, doll?” he hisses out, venomous and needy.

The tension in the room is almost tangible, the air thick with lust and fear. As you watch the rhythmic jerks of Sukuna’s hand on his erect cock - up and down up and down up and- your body betrays you.

Mind hazy with arousal, you place your hands on his shoulders, cunt clenching at the strong, defined muscle beneath your fingertips. You lean forward, lips meeting his in a desperate, desperate kiss.

Pulling away, you reach for his heavy cock, wrapping your fingers around it, feeling it’s thickness and the heat. Sukuna lets out a low growl, eyes closing momentarily as you begin to stroke him in urgent, desperate tugs that have his hips bucking involuntarily.

As you let him fuck your fist like his own personal fleshlight, you grind down against his thigh. Hard. His tight, twitching ball stimulating your clit just right as you get yourself off on Sukuna like a bitch in heat.

Maybe it was the pure feral need in your hazy eyes - or maybe it was the way you lean your head into the gun pressing against your forehead - but Sukuna’s eyes widen, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. Only growing more amused by the second as you lean impossibly closer to take the cigar from his hand, placing it between your lips.

Drawing deeply, inhaling the sweet, rich flavor of the tobacco. As you exhale, you deliberately blow the smoke into his face, the tendrils of vapor swirling around his beautiful features, mixing with the sweat and the scent of his cologne.

A deep bark of laughter makes Sukuna throw his head back - and you to clench around nothing on his lap. Hips becoming more and more animalistic against his. Your wrist now aching and wet with precum, becoming so, so sloppy trying to get both yourselves off.

Sukuna wraps his arm around you, pulling you close, his hand cupping your breast possessively. The other surges back with the gun on your forehead - where it had been faltering from pleasure before. “Make us come within the next five seconds before I blow your head off, doll.”

One.

Your fingers tighten around his cock, milking him. Movements from both ends become more and more filthy with the need to release.

Two.

You cup his heavy balls in your hands, clit catching on his zipper and making you mewl at the stimulation.

Three.

A thumb pressing down between his balls, hard. Hips stuttering with your impending release, losing your mind with each stroke.

Four.

Sukuna body goes rigid, choking on what sounds like your name, bottom lip catching between his teeth as he throws his head back and-

Five.

Cums all over your fist, thick, hot spurts of seed that paint your hands white. Splattering on your palm, and onto the chair below. You not too far behind as your body bows into his, stars behind your eyes as you chase peak after peak grinding down on his lap. You shudder, release taking everything out of you until it’s nothing more than mere tingles.

A finger on the trigger. Pulling.

Click!

As Sukuna’s maniacal laughter rings in the heady room, you blink away the haze of your orgasm as you realizing with a jolt that there were no fucking bullets.

Yet this bastard shot you anyway.

Skin heated against yours, lips ghosting your ear as Sukuna whispers. Low and gravelly.

“I don’t need a gun to kill, doll.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - The professor

“You see, I really, really need this A to pass, sir.” you bat your lashes innocently, slightly whiny yet not desperate - at least, not yet.

Short skirt hiking up as you lean over the desk in Professor Gojo’s stuffy office. Making sure that tight top you purposefully wore lets those striking blue eyes see a perfect view of your breasts - no bra today, of course.

Eyes flickering down. Once. Twice.

Success.

Yet, Professor Gojo’s easy grin stays steadfast, “Well, maybe you should have studied harder then, hm?” You’d almost be fooled by his little act, yet your eyes catch the way he subtly crosses his legs, something stirring in those alluring cerulean eyes as he looks up at you through his lashes.

Deciding to play along, huffing as you cross your arms across your chest, “I did, maybe you should just let me take on an assignment for extra credit.”

His eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows raising in question, “What kind of assignment?”

You bite your lips coyly, holding back a smirk at the way he makes it so easy for you. Reaching out immediately to trace a thumb across his full lips, leaning down far enough that your tits were basically spilling out of your top now.

“The one where you fuck me, right here. Right now, on this desk.”

You could feel his pulse quickening against your hand, voice strained with need. “I should fail you right now for this.”

Brushing your lips against his earlobe, you whisper, “But you won’t, sir.”

Before you can react, in one, fluid motion strong arms lift you off the desk to splay you out so sinfully on it. You almost get whiplash from his pure strength, brought back only by the feeling of his muscular thighs warm against your ass.

“If you want that A, then prove how badly you need it.”

Your heart races as you nod, cheeks flaring with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. With a feral grin, you spread your legs apart, toying with that soaked g-string - exposing your bare pussy. Beads of slick pooling underneath you on the desk as the way Gojo’s eyes harden as you clench around nothing.

You trail your hands enticingly down, down down. A delicate finger swiping at your folds, collecting your juices - popping right into your mouth. A smug huff of laughter leaves you at the way Gojo’s mouth drops into a surprised oh!

“You’re such a lil’ fucking minx, princess.”

You needed him now.

Rubbing your thumb over your swollen clit, index finger bullying its way into your snug cunt the way you wanted Gojo to. You gasp, arching your back as waves of pleasure, “Oh, sir! Mmm- feel s’good inside me. Want more- hah-”

Pornographic whines of pleasure send blood rushing straight to Gojo’s cock. He was losing his mind at your little show. He was going insane.

“Your turn now.” you mewl,

Your hungry gaze was locked with Gojo’s as he stands, removing his belt and unbuckling his pants. Your eyes follow the movement greedily, mouth watering at the impressive size of his erection. Leaking tip furiously flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Delicate beads of precum smearing on the frantic, jerky movements of his fist up and down and up and down and-

It’s a silent staredown. Your fingers matching the delicious rhythm of his fist, urgently fucking yourselves to each other. Trying to see who would break first. Up and down up and down - in and out in and out. Faster.

“Didn’t think you were all talk, sir.”

That’s what makes the great Gojo Satoru break. Surging forward in hasty steps, your hands pinned to the cold surface of the desk, pussy now quivering in loneliness.

Smack!

“Count to five, then I’ll give what you want. If you can’t even do that then I don’t think you deserve an A, princess.”

“O-one.” You whine at the harsh hand that smacks your ass, large handprint stinging into your searing skin.

“This the hand?” Gojo whispers, voice ragged. Inspecting your hands before his tongue sticks out to lick a long, languid stripe up your fingers, pooling your juices on his tongue. Pretty blue eyes rolling to the back of his head as he licks your fingers clean so filthily.

Electricity courses through your veins as his long fingers deftly rip off your flimsy g-string, pocketing it safely in his work pants. You have half the mind to snark about it before you register Gojo’s throbbing cock flush against your pussy, leaking tip teasing in between your dripping folds leisurely.

Your slick mixing with his precum, trailing down down down his glistening length, pooling on where he tightly gripped his base - splattering onto the hardwood office floor with a deafening tap! tap! tap! that matched the heartbeat in your ears.

“Beg for it, princess.”

“Hmmm, no.”

Smack! Smack!

“Ah! Three! Hah- please, sir.”

You didn’t even know exactly what you were begging for - but you got exactly what you wanted. Breath catching in your throat at the way Gojo pushed into you with a raspy grunt, cock hot and heavy against your fluttering walls.

His sheer size makes you feel like you’ll split apart any second now, but oh how you desperately wanted to be broken by him.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Gojo began to thrust. Shallow, mindless strokes, each one just to drive his enormous cock deeper to fit into your snug, ravaged cunt.

“Fuck me, please, sir. Need you feel me up insi-”

Smack!

“...four.” you whisper, voice strained with need and frustration.

Ass sore, marks probably there for days. Your words catch pathetically in your throat as Gojo loses grip on his restraint - or his sanity - whichever one would break you first. Sheathing himself inside your dripping heaven till his heavy balls smacked your clit, your ass flush against the neat tufts of white at his pelvis.

Wasting no time, Gojo starts up at an uncontrollable, merciless pace, every inch of him being forced all the way into your snug pussy. Your walls suck him up greedily as his prominent veins throb and graze just right on all your sweet spots.

“This what you wanted, princess?” he rasps out, pace unwavering. “This is what you wanted, right? To be fucked like the pretty little slut that you are, huh?”

“Yes! Yes, please, sir.”

Each ramming of his cock drives you further and further up the cold desk, a pathetic little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth at each slam. Knees weakened by his relentless pounding, you didn’t know how you were gonna hold yourself up anymore-

Ah, but you didn’t have to. Gojo Satoru, ever the gentleman, wrapped a single, muscular arm under your hips, kneading the skin underneath his fingertips, fucking you deeper onto his cock as if you were his personal fucktoy.

“Oh fuck! Hngh- sir, right there.” you yelp at the new angle, his furiously flushed tip kissing your cervix so painfully good, g-spot abused as he grazes it over and over.

Smack!

“Ah, sir! Five-”

And then you’re cumming. Hips pushing back animalistically, fucking yourself through your high. Chasing peak after peak.

Boneless and exhausting, dripping cunt clamping down on him you mewl, “Fill me up inside, sir! Wanna feel it dripping down my legs.” At the sound of your voice, Gojo’s eyes rolled back, his features contorted in pure ecstasy as his cock twitches savagely inside you, finally letting himself release. Cum gushing out in thick, pulsating spurts.

Filling your abused pussy to the brim, coating your walls an obscene white. Gojo keeps fucking himself through it, milking even the last drops of his length on your cunt. Breaths ragged, hips animalistic, low murmurs of your name leaving his lips.

And as his climax bates into nothing more but mere tingles, lust-hazed, tired ears catch the distant knocking from outside. Ah, right that appointment.

Blinking back the vision to his eyes, he looks down at you. All fucked-out, swollen lips pouty, and his cum dribbling enticingly down your thighs. Oh how he just wants to bite into you - or have half the mind to just send you out there like this to show all those college losers who you belong to.

Or, he thinks, eyes twinkling as he looks down at the generously large space under his desk.

You catch his gaze, a dangerous glint in them as he maps every curve and dip of your body. Marked and so very obviously his. Your pretty lips falling into a soft oh! as you realize just what idea was forming behind those darkened blue eyes.

“Come in.”

Before you know it, you’re shoved hastily under the desk, Gojo’s still-furiously flushed tip kissing your bruised lips as the door swings open. God, if every assignment was like this then you’d probably end up valedictorian…

A/N. Can’t believe this got me b@nned for like a hour bro pls.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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kithtaehyung · 10 months

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seven days (m) (teaser) | jjk

POSTED HERE JULY 22ND, 2023!! upcoming series: seven days (m) pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x reader(f) genre/rating: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; roommates to lovers au summary: you dump yet another guy that wasn’t up to your “ten day standards,” which leaves your cocky ass, very off-limits roommate to tease your single status yet again. but the teasing is always expected. what’s not expected, is the bet that you make without thinking. the bet that even though you give ten days, he wouldn’t even last seven. warnings: cursing, alcohol/vape mentions, parties, he wears glasses sometimes😔👍, chains bc it’s tradition atp lmaooo, cocky!jk, feelings🤕, big big big jk, flirty!jk, baddie!reader😌, multiple explicit scenes🫠, jk constantly in grey sweatpants and nothing else :))), full lists to be revealed each chapter! notes: …so this song called seven dropped and— notes 2: but really there was a fic that had been in the wips for a minute, and i just so happened to have a burst of energy to expand on it so here we are! making it a series to allow myself time to dedicate meaningful energy to each scene and not rush them💕 est. chapters: prologue | mon | tue | wed | thurs | fri | sat | sun | seven days est. running dates: july-september 2023 taglist: sign up here (i check every entry so read the rules!) teaser: below the cut if you want a taste 🩵

—

“Sure did,” Jungkook puffs before stepping away, taking all the tight space with him and letting you breathe again. “But all I’m saying is, you gotta lower your standards or—”

“No.”

“Or,” he continues, giving you a look, “Not complain if they’re too high.”

“Well, thank you.” With your nose grazing the sky, you point out, “I’d like to think they’re just right.”

“What even are they anyway? All you’ve said is something about ten days.”

“That’s basically it,” you murmur, resting your arms on the island as to not have your chest in full view. “If I still like someone after ten days, I know I’d be fine dating them for real.”

There’s silence when you finish. When you finally look, the gawk you’re getting in return almost makes you laugh. “What?”

“You mean those days are only a trial run?”

You do break into laughter this time, burying your face in slight shyness. “And what about it!”

“Are you serious—?” Jungkook rounds the island so that he can speak directly at your hidden features. “Has anyone even gotten past all ten with you?”

You pause, breath fanning the granite top beneath you and wisping around your face. When you lift your gaze above your arms, you keep it trained on the countertop instead of his curiosity,

“No.”

He doesn’t say a word.

“Not since my standards changed.”

And you think that’s the end of this conversation. Because what else is there to say? You know your expectations are impossible but you think this is a hell of a lot better than—

“I could do it.”

“What.” A glare is shot. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“You? No.” You shake your head. “You wouldn’t even last seven.”

“Try me,” he challenges, and you still can’t take him seriously despite the fire in his eyes. “I’ve lasted a lot more than that as your roommate, right?”

“But that’s—this is—this is different! Be for real, Kook.” You vacate the island and head to your room, having enough of his teasing for one morning.

But you get stopped at the doorway, a bare chest and chains blocking your vision and sending your mind into a frenzy. When you flick your gaze to his face, he simply says, with the straightest expression,

“I am.”

tbc. :))

🦋 soooo how do we feel !! | wanna be tagged? 🩵

a/n: yeah idk what happened to me. one moment i was saying i wasn't gonna get bitten by the seven bug, and the next.. well. this happened lol. anyway! taglist is on a form so that i can easily keep track of who to tag. pls make sure to either tell me ur age in the survey or to have it on your blog bc i check all entries when tagging. prologue is already written and will be up soon! ++ ⇥ masterlist

#bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts smut #*ryenfictalk #ryenwrites #*latest #teasers #bts fanfic #jjk fic #7days

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fallinallincurls · 3 months

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pancakes for two, i will always love you

this is my (late) entry for demi's lowkey lovefest 2k24! thank you so much for hosting this fun little challenge @wyattjohnston!

this fic is also a belated birthday gift to the amazing @desiredposion!! inspiration struck and i had to make the most of it so i hope you love this! this was also my first time writing for nico which was so much fun.

prompt used: "don't ever stop looking at me like that."

heavily inspired by the lyrics "maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two, hash brown, egg yolk, i will always love you" from keep driving by harry styles

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 1.3k+

~~~~~

Dating a professional hockey player means that slow mornings are a rarity. Usually, Nico is up and out the door for morning skate before your eyes even open. But today, you’re lucky enough to get the extra time in bed with the man you love for the first time in what feels like forever.

As sunlights bathes the room in a subtle, but beautiful golden glow, you snuggle in closer to Nico in an effort to absorb the heat radiating from his body. His strong arms tighten around you instinctively and even though his eyes remain closed, he presses a kiss to your forehead before dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“Morning, Neeks.”

“Mm,” He hums contently, making you giggle and you relish in the rough feeling of his scruff against your skin. You card a hand through his tousled hair, earning a soft moan in response.

“Come on, schatzi.” He murmurs, dragging out the syllables of each word as a slight smirk appears on his lips. “You know how much I like it when you play with my hair.”

“Oh trust me, I know.” You chuckle, moving your hand to his cheek just as Nico lifts his head and his gorgeous brown eyes meet yours. A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, the playfulness that was evident just seconds ago fading even though the identical tender smiles on your faces continue to grow.

“We don’t get to do this enough.” Nico whispers, gaze never leaving yours as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. You rest a hand on his bare chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart and try to commit every detail about this moment to memory. Nothing but pure adoration rushes through your veins as you admire the beautiful man next to you.

“That’s okay. It makes these rare mornings that much more special.”

“I’m going to tell the team we can’t ever have practice until after 10 at the earliest.” Nico grins, his dimples appearing as he laughs at his own little joke.

“You have that power as captain?” You tease, pressing a kiss to his nose, his cheek, and finally his lips. Nico smiles into the kiss before deepening it for a few seconds, bringing out that familiar need for him.

“I don’t really know, but I deserve some more time with my girl so I’ll make it a rule. I don’t care what anyone says.” He mumbles against your lips, voice low and still full of sleep.

Your heart swells as you drink in the sight of your boyfriend. Nico’s eyes are sparkling with love and his sweet smile is the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen. His hair is a mess but somehow still looks perfect and you absentmindedly trace shapes on his shoulder, feeling the well toned muscles there.

He is a dream. And despite all odds, you’re the lucky one who gets to love him every single day. That’s something you’ll never take for granted because you never thought you’d find someone as kind, caring and amazing as Nico.

Yet, here you are.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Nico presses another tender kiss to your cheek before pulling away like he’s going to get up.

“Hey, hey! Where do you think you’re going?” You tease him, grabbing onto his forearm in an effort to keep him in bed.

“To make breakfast?” Nico replies, more as a question than a statement. His brows knit together in confusion and the cutest look crosses over his facial features.

“Right now? We can’t stay and cuddle for five more minutes?” Nico can’t help but chuckle at the adorable pout you’re putting on display, but doesn’t give into your antics. Instead, he leans down to give you one last kiss before heading towards the bedroom door.

“Yes, right now. By the time you’re done with your morning routine, everything will be ready. I promise. We have all day to be cozy and do absolutely nothing.” He reassures you, that cheeky smile of his blossoming across his lips and bringing out his dimples again.

“Not fair, Neeks!” You call after him, that giddy feeling of happiness rushing through you when you hear his laughter floating down the hallway. After soaking in the warmth for a few more seconds, you reluctantly drag yourself out of bed to shower and get your morning routine done.

And true to his word, when you enter the kitchen dressed in sweats and one of Nico’s shirts ready for a lazy day in with your boyfriend, you find the counter covered in a full breakfast spread. A mug of coffee made just the way you like it, pancakes for two, maple syrup, hash browns and eggs are all plated and ready to be enjoyed.

“Nico,” You breathe out, shock and awe evident in your voice. Nico is always doing something sweet for you, no matter how big or small, but you weren’t expecting this at all. “What is this for?”

“Just because.” Nico shrugs, a bashful look on his face. His cheeks are pink with blush and those gorgeous brown eyes are twinkling with excitement. “We don’t get many mornings together like this. I wanted to spoil you. Made all your favorites.” He admits before stealing a kiss from you and passing you a full plate he somehow put together without you noticing.

“I love you.” There’s nothing else you can say. After all the time together, these little gestures still warm your heart and are the kindest reminders of Nico’s love for you.

“I love you too, schatzi. Now come on, let’s eat. We’ve got a whole lot of nothing to do today.” Nico teases, sitting down next to you at the table.

As you enjoy breakfast together, the two of you talk about everything and anything. Nico tells you some funny stories from practice yesterday and catches you up on all the drama about how Jack likes a girl, but won’t make a move. You fill him in on your latest project at work and how you scheduled a girls day with your best friend for later that week.

“We’re going to check out that new bookstore in Hoboken! The one right by the restaurant we really like on the waterfront. I’m looking for the next book in the series I’m reading so hopefully they have it.”

Noticing Nico has been quiet the whole time you’ve been talking, your rambling trails off. But before you can ask what’s wrong, your breath is stolen away. Because when you take in the sight of your boyfriend, you see the fondest look on his face. One that you recognize of pure love and adoration. It’s the look of someone who has found exactly where they should be. The look of someone who has found happiness in the simplicity of spending their life with another person.

“Please don’t ever stop looking at me like that.” You murmur, the words slipping past your lips before you even realize what you’re saying. Nico’s gentle smile just grows, his hand reaching for yours.

“Like what?” He teases, that familiar playfulness evident through his question.

“Like nothing else in the world matters but the love that we have. Like you’re the happiest right here with me.”

“I am the happiest with you. Always will be.” Nico whispers before pulling you in for a deep kiss. He says everything with that kiss, words aren’t necessary and wouldn’t do justice to how he feels about you. You melt into his gentle touch, smiling against his lips as everything else falls away for just a moment.

“And you’re right,” He starts when the kiss breaks, his big brown eyes never leaving yours. “Nothing else even compares to the way I love you.”

And right then, over pancakes and coffee that Nico made you, you know he’s going to be the man you marry. The one you spend the rest of your days with. Because this kind of love is once-in-a-lifetime and you don’t want to go through life without him by your side.

#nico hischier #nico hischier fic #nico hischier fics #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier blurbs #nico hischier fluff #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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undercoverpena · 2 months

Text

5. pepper red

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter five of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 2.5k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] SMUT. p in v. dirty talk/mutual appreciation. minor competency. frankie is pretty, thick and sexy. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. you wear a date outfit but not specified. no use of y/n. an: if this was a sitcom episode, it wouldn't be allowed to be aired and also, i passed my exam, wahoo.

prev chapter | series masterlist

For some reason, it doesn’t surprise you that his bedroom is forest green. Or, that it’s accented by strong whites and similar dark woods as the living room. All earthy tones, him.

In the same way, it doesn’t surprise you that his skin is soft, all smooth as your fingers brush over his skin when you lift his t-shirt from his frame.

Because he looks as good as he did in those videos you’d watched over and over. Getting the chance to see if the silver scars were tricks of the light or stories he hadn’t shared. Your fingers discovered it was the latter.

“God, you look good, Frankie.”

He snorts, before sliding a thumb under your jaw, forcing you to confront big, doe brown eyes. Ones that you’d fall into if you could, especially as they pause, stare from one eye to the next, likely to see if there’s a lie there—a slither of untruth to your confession.

There isn’t.

A thing you ensure sits at the forefront, a silent plea for him to believe you. You suppose he must do when his mouth slides back over yours. Tongue pressing at your lower lip, seeking entry that you happily allow.

You lose yourself in it, him. How good it feels to have his lips on yours again. To have the added feel of purposeful and intentional fingers taking their sweet time to slide your outfit from you.

Because his hands trail over as much as they can. Doing so as though he’s busy carving a memory of you in his mind, making you real. A thing you won’t admit you’re doing too, too busy committing the way he feels, as you run your hands across his shoulders. Feel the expanse of them, the width, wondering—as his tongue swirls a shape on your neck—if yoga will really help you fit his broadness between your thighs.

Frankie must notice you’re drifting, thinking, because his mouth finds yours. A thing which cements you to the moment. Kissing you slowly, deliberately—a hint of mint amongst the drink he’d provided and you smirk, smiling against him.

Because he’s eaten a TicTac.

It mixes, fighting to refresh as though you hadn’t eaten and consumed the same fast food. But the act, the way his lips slide against yours, makes that joke melt as quickly as it appeared, because he’s completing his mission: the one to leave you breathless.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you choose to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Tongue sliding back behind his teeth as a soft moan escapes him; swallowed by your own as his hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. The feel of him, hard and ready against you sends a thrill of anticipation darting through you.

It’s easy, simple, to allow the rhythm of your bodies to become a language all of its own. A two-way conversation being sketched out and written in sighs and moans, punctuated by the occasional gasp. A symphony of desire.

And then you make things shift. Change the tempo when your hand descends between the two of you. Feeling him, grasping his cock, taking note of the way he inhales at the feel of your fingers. For a moment, his mouth hovers over yours—both open, just breathing. His palms flat to your side—as you hold him, feel his cock twitch in your hand. Moving, slowly—almost torturously, but it’s actually with precision.

He’s so hard, thick. Your fingers tighten their hold, wrist moving more, palm sliding up and down as you taste the way he says fuck.

“Bed,” he groans, almost through gritted teeth.

Smirking, you bite his lower lip. Light. Not piercing or enough to leave an indent. “In a minute.”

And it leaves his tongue again. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, baby.

All you can think about is how good he sounds, looks—feels. His head tipped back, neck elongated—lips parting as each expletive lasts longer than the four letters that make it up. It’s cliché to say it’s never been like this, but a truth that personal isn’t always easy to confess.

“Not waited to do this right with you to come before you have, Rainy.”

His fingers, those calloused ones attached to those hard-working hands, wrap around your wrist. Light, but determined.

“Oh, Butterscotch,” you tease, mouth close to his. “You been thinking about this?”

He smirks, just as he clasps his other hand to your side—tugging, yanking you flush. Feeling him, all of him, as you’re guided, moved, backs of your legs meeting the well-made bed you’re about to mess up and ruin.

“Since the moment I heard you laugh.”

Your body falls back, the sheets cool, smooth, pressing against your bare spine, before his body comes up—caging you. Nudging your thighs apart with his knee.

“Just kept thinking, bet you make other pretty noises too.”

Lips parting, you knot your fingers in the curls at the base of his neck, letting his lips slide into his cheek. That dimple appearing. The one which tries to hide under wiry hair and shyness, but is deeper than ever now, nothing held back or hidden.

And you can’t help but watch, completely transfixed by the light from the lamp he'd flicked on. The one lighting up his face, making him appear golden, ethereal. Able to discern each of the shades that make up his eyes, the flecks within them, the different browns that make a colour you dream and think of constantly, but you’re not sure has any other name than Frankie.

“Can I touch you, baby?”

You find you can only nod.

Words failing, falling, simply replaced by a gasp as he slides them between your partly spread thighs—feeling it, how wet you are. How slick and desperate you are to have him. A mess, all for him, by him. It likely ruined the underwear you’d left on his floor and dampened the sheets under you.

“This all for me?”

The rasp of his voice only makes you ache more for him. Hips desperate to shift so his fingers do more than trace and tease, but plunge and curl.

“Yes,” you moan.

It's like he knows you. A thought that bubbles and bursts when your fingers grasp at his sheets, his two fingers feel so much different than your own; Than the toys you own that are shoved in protective bags inside your sock drawer. His seek, aiming to find that spot inside you, stretches you, making your toes curl and your knuckles ache from how tight they hold the sheets.

And he’s talking. A sea of things that you half-catch and miss the rest. That you look good, feel good, that he wants to watch you come apart before he even thinks about giving you his cock.

Words almost leave your mouth, but you’re barely present.

More electric than person; more liquid than solid. So fucking close already you can feel the tremors in your thighs from not rutting yourself against his hand when the base of his palm presses flat to your swollen nerves.

“Fuck, Frankie—”

“Do you like it when I talk, baby?” his voice becomes an anchor. Keeping you here, not allowing you to float too far as you nod, crinkled pillows sounding as you do. “I think you do. I think you like hearing how hard you make me, how much I think about you in this bedroom, in the shower—at work—“

You’re arching. Barely clinging to the present as your feet flatten to root you, to grip to reality as your ears ring and pleasure does more thrum, but builds and builds—all compressing, hot, closer to liquid fire.

“—look at me, baby.”

And you do.

Lids flipping open as you’re met with nothing but desire, lust and need. It pushes you, suddenly freefalling. Your throat aching, scratched with the syllables of his name as you dig fingers into his curls and curl your body as much against him as possible as he works you through it. Him coaxing, mouth on your collarbone as he licks and lathes as you moan, and pant.

It’s then you look at him again.

Bathed in a sandy glow, sweat peppered on his chest, glinting and glittering as you find his eyes on you, taking you in as you catch your breath.

He’s so handsome, beautiful. In a way that ruined you before, that made you think of nothing but him, which now devastates you—in a way you only want him to do over and over.

It’s easier to kiss him than say it.

To trace the words over his mouth as he hums, as the vibration tickles across your lips before you’re manoeuvring him. Only paused in doing so as he dragged his lips down your neck, the sound of a drawer opening, closing, hearing a wrapper crinkle.

It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment when your hand snatches it from him, placing it between your teeth, trying as they do so easily in movies to lightly rip it over with your teeth. You struggle. Suddenly nervous about piercing it, mind in overdrive because what—

"Easy, baby. I've got it," he growls into your ear, taking it from you, opening it more with ease than you'd managed.

And it makes you crash your mouth back to his. Etching more things to his mouth, smudging them over his tongue. How much you want this, want him.

It’s why you’re grateful that Frankie moves with ease until he’s on his back and you’re on top of him. A hand finds a home on your back, once the empty wrapper is discarded, fingers spreading out, flowing warmth into your bones. Then the other begins aiding, lining himself up as the head presses against your opening.

When you take as much of him as you can, fingers soothing your hip at the stretch, the hiss drawn from your lips at the light sting, before your forehead meets his. It's a moment before you move again. His words are there, guiding, before the room is flooded with a moan that's unearthed from your soul. One that is almost smothered in his own, a groan that makes heat flood your ears and a smile grace your mouth.

“So good for me, feel so good—“

“Can take more,” you interrupt, breathless. Slowly moving again, lifting up before sliding back down his cock—walls welcoming him, stretching, taking him to the hilt. “Y’feel good, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you roll your hips slowly, torturously if anything. Still sensitive. Little gasps escape as you begin to find a rhythm, one that makes his teeth bite down on his lip.

Taking his hand, pulling it to your breast, wrapping around it as he cups it—as his groan stains the air between the two of you—you draw an O with your hips, feel that heat in your stomach.

“I like your hands, Frankie.”

A line appears, deep between his two brows. A look of shock, surprise—awe—spreads over his face like a sunny day suddenly appearing in a storm. Before, it’s slipping away, hiding, wriggling away to some depth of him you wish to call back.

“I like your voice, your smile—fuck, oh my god—and-and I like your thighs, and your…”

You continue, babbling, rambling as his hands find your hips, steadying, moving you, thrusting up into you as little spots appear in your vision, as your own voice becomes distant and easily forgettable.

But the look on his face is anything but the latter.

He’s spellbound, utterly captivated—appearing as though if his mind was a camera, he’d have filled up several memory cards with what he was trying to capture.

And it feels good.

A wanting so bad that it almost makes you snap there and then, more so as the head of his cock kisses that part of you once again, a whine coated in both a gasp and a moan—

“Put your hands on the headboard, baby.”

And you do, assisted by him moving you with him sheathed inside of you before palm after palm is placed. The fabric underneath is soft, almost like velvet—leaving marks of your touch behind in its wake as you feel his mouth on the underside of your breast.

“You look good like this,” he continues, mouth pressing kisses to your skin, “But then, you always do.”

Your eyes snap to his, finding nothing but hunger paddling in brown. You don't fight the heat that flares out to the last few places pleasure hasn’t touched. Where only compliments and adoration can kiss and warm.

Then he says your name.

Not baby, not Rainy, but the one you’d handed him in that paint aisle and set yourself on a course for unravelling. A thing you don’t regret, but rather wish had happened sooner.

Your name rasped in that deep way that echoes through the room long after the last letter is spoken, digging deep into your soul as it unlocks something. It makes every sound amplified; the rustle of sheets, the creak of the bed, the sound of skin meeting skin.

“Let me hear you, baby,” cuts through, slicing,

And you do.

Your whine shifts into a sob, almost choking on it as it snaps—as pleasure rips through you and drowns you in waves. There’s nothing but white, a much louder ringer, and the distant knowledge that you’re spraying his name across the room as your hips stutter and he thrusts up into you, twitching, fucking breathless from it.

His hands, large and holding tight, keep you rooted—slowly hearing him groaning, grunting, low hisses of your name and how good you feel tight around his cock.

His fingers dig into your skin when he follows you. When his eyes clench, and his mouth parts around your name, lighting it up, making it seem as special as he makes you feel.

You collapse fully against him, thighs still shaking, little tremors in your muscles as your fingers brush back his damp curls from his forehead. A smile easy to find, to let slide over your mouth as you kiss him.

The light from the lamp drapes over you—still sticky, a mess between your thighs as you kiss him again, bodies flush. More gentle, a light lick across his bottom lip as you feel him grin, hands roaming over your body, tracing the curve of your waist, the slope of your back

He murmurs your name, palm sliding up your cheek, tip of his nose brushing against yours. “Should clean you up.”

“Hmm…”

His thumb swipes, hearing him swallow as your eyes open and find his already on you. “Don’t go.”

"To clean up?"

"Tonight."

Biting your lip, you try to fight it—less a smile and more a grin. “Okay. I won’t.”

And his lips capture yours once more. A thing you relax into—easily. Just like you keep finding so effortless to do with him.

next chapter ->

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x reader smut #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #francisco morales smut

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elitadream · 7 months

Text

Mario instinctively lifted a trembling arm before he even registered the embrace, powerless to resist the pull. And when Luigi tightened his hold, wordlessly inviting him to do the same, he found himself entirely unable to hold back any longer. It was then that the stupefying reality of it all finally hit Mario with full force, and he broke down crying as he gingerly engulfed Luigi in a tender hug.

There it is, folks. My last entry for the body swap concept I shared over the past few weeks. 🤲💝 This is a direct continuation of these two scenes that I wanted to explore through both illustration and text. I hope you've enjoyed this tangent! I will surely revisit it again at some point. ^-^

(Full scene below the cut 📝)

-oOo-

Mario stared, mouth agape, frozen in place.

He had been about to voice his surprise as he had looked up and spotted a second figure walking into view, but had fallen silent the second he had recognized who it was. Unable to finish his sentence. Unable to articulate a single word.

The man currently standing a short distance away from him appeared similarly struck, as if lost in a daze. His eyes were wide open and his stance unsteady, but his breathing was slow. Quiet. Calm, even. His hand slid from the rocky surface on which it was resting, and he shuffled his feet slightly as he stood a little straighter. A movement that Mario had seen a million times before and knew by heart. The detail was painful in its candid simplicity, the familiarity it emanated feeling both out of place and strangely grounding. The young man blinked, his shoulders dropping somewhat, and Mario noted that his expression wasn't one of horror or dismay.

It was one of solemn awe and sympathy.

Mario felt his jaw twitch and move feebly, but no sound came out. Distantly, he registered Princess Peach gently patting his neck in support, her touch warm and comforting. He could feel his eyes begin to sting as he swallowed, then resolutely tried again.

"L-Luigi?" He finally whispered, his voice wavering.

It didn't seem real.

Mario wasn't sure how long he had remained chained up in his cell, although the time he had spent imagining the worst scenarios imaginable had seemed to him like an eternity. The confinement and loneliness, he could handle. But no punishment or torture remotely equaled the threat that Bowser had dropped as he had turned to him, his human features distorted by an ugly and cruel sneer.

"If you do anything to try and get out of here, they're dead. That lovely Princess you're so enamored with? Dead. That miserable coward you call your brother? Also dead. I guarantee you I will kill them both, and I will make sure they thoroughly suffer to make you pay for it. Is that understood?"

Mario had already been heavily restrained at this point, faced with a squad of Bowser's best guards and Kamek hovering menacingly above them, wand in hand. But that didn't matter. He might as well have been alone with the tyrant, free and fully capable of defending himself; the dark promise would have halted him in his tracks all the same, paralyzing him with an identical wave of sickening dread.

He had only managed to give a single, haggard nod in response, and as soon as the malevolent king had departed with his troops, he had caved under the weight of his own despair. There, left alone to rot in the deepest dungeon of Bowser's fortress, he had spent many hours stagnating in emotional agony, overwhelmed by a crushing feeling of helpessness and guilt.

This was all his fault. He had fallen into his enemy's trap, and now his loved ones were in grave peril because of his foolishness. Worse yet, he couldn't protect or even warn them.

It was a nightmare come true, and the torment it had plagued him with ceaselessly had made it impossible for him to rest or think about anything else, exhausting him beyond his limits.

He was still reeling from the shock and astonishing surge of hope he had felt when the princess had entered his cell. To see her there, alive and well, reaching to offer him any form of reassurance she could despite his horrendous mistake and appearance had felt almost like an absurd dream in itself…

But to find Luigi there as well stunned Mario in a way that he couldn’t put into words even if he tried. To think of all that his little brother had braved for him - and still continued to brave, even now - was absolutely staggering.

Mario was vaguely aware of the sound of Peach's voice as she offered him a few hushed words of encouragement, but he could barely hear her. His mind felt as though it was wrapped in a thick layer of wool, fuzzy and packed. The prickling sensation at the corner of his eyes intensified, making his vision blurry and unfocused.

Luigi took a tentative step forward, then another. He was being cautious, his movements measured and small. Something in his demeanor told Mario that he wasn't doing this out of unease, or to mentally steel himself, but for another reason entirely. He was observing him attentively, trying to gauge his reaction, and it was suddenly clear that Luigi was being careful for his sake instead of his own.

The pressure at the back of Mario's throat became all at once suffocating, and he made a choked noise as he tried to press himself further against the wall he had backed into, hiding his beastly face in his hands.

"Per favore… Non avvicinarti di più", he whimpered brokenly, vainly trying to conceal himself from view.

He didn't understand how Luigi could remotely find it in himself to look at him, and less even approach him. His little brother had always been frightened of fierce creatures. Mario recalled many nights where he had held Luigi close when they were young, assuring him that no monster would ever come near him. What good could he accomplish now? In a cruel twist of fate, he was stuck as the one thing he had vowed to protect Luigi from, and there was nothing he could do to change his predicament.

He couldn’t handle the mere thought of his brother staring at him with terror in his eyes. He just couldn't. It would be too much for him to bear.

"N-non ti v-voglio spaventare", he stuttered weakly, amidst the ragged breaths shaking his entire form.

There was no audible response to his plea, and for a few harrowing seconds, Mario believed he was alone once more. Wondering, despite himself, whether he had wished so dearly to see Luigi and Peach again that he briefly managed to persuade himself that they were indeed there with him. But then, he heard a faint sigh, and was deeply startled when two very small hands took hold of his own, gently prying them away. The contact was meek but insistent, and Mario found that he didn't have the resolve nor the willpower to fight it. Gradually, his clawed paws were withdrawn from his face as he heaved and shuddered, his eyes still shut tight in mortifcation.

He couldn’t move, could hardly even breathe. He was petrified.

"Ciò non potrebbe mai accadere…"

With a start, Mario gasped and looked down to see Luigi fondly shaking his head. He was smiling, albeit in a pained and wobbly manner, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. His gloved fingers went to cup the underside of his jaw, grazing the scaly area in a gesture completely devoid of hesitation, and with seldom seen certainty, he serenely held his gaze.

"…caro fratellone," he added in a fragile murmur, before leaning forward and past his snout.

Mario instinctively lifted a trembling arm before he even registered the embrace, powerless to resist the pull. And when Luigi tightened his hold, worldlessly inviting him to do the same, he found himself entirely unable to hold back any longer. It was then that the stupefying reality of it all finally hit Mario with full force, and he broke down crying as he gingerly engulfed Luigi in a tender hug.

"Sei qui! Sei davvero qui!" He repeated like a mantra, sobbing profusely.

"Io sono qui," Luigi returned, his kind voice muffled against his neck. "Non vado da nessuna parte."

Never had Luigi been the one to comfort a scared and distraught Mario before, but in this exact moment, nothing felt more right. They both needed this, they knew, and for more reasons than one.

Standing respectfully off to the side, Peach looked on as Luigi whispered something else in Italian, causing both brothers to huff in incredulous mirth. She watched as Mario ever so gently angled his head downwards, ruffling Luigi’s hair with his cheek as he lightly stroked his back. And as she did, it occurred to her with stark clarity that they were really - and truly - two halves of a whole. Separating them seemed as awful and unnatural a thought as a world existing without either night or day. It was simply inconceivable.

Walking out from the shadowed spot where he had quietly observed the whole exchange, Junior wandered closer and stopped a few timid steps away from the princess, his gaze riveted on his feet.

"I understand, now," he mumbled dejectedly.

Peach turned to the young prince, giving him a soft and curious look. Before she could inquire about his statement, he feebly kicked at the dust and joined his hands behind his back, purposely averting his eyes still.

"I understand why this was so important to him," he elaborated, designating Luigi with a slight jerk of his chin. "Why he did all of that, and why he wouldn't back down. I didn't know they were so…"

He trailed off as he looked at the bros, a glimmer of wistfulness and empathy shimmering in his eyes.

"Inseparable?" Peach supplied for him, knowingly.

He nodded, his outwardly nonchalant demeanor however made less than convincing by his troubled frown.

"Do you… Do you think there's a chance Mario will still want to be my friend?" He eventually asked, his voice plaintive and small.

Peach blinked at him in mild shock, and with a compassionate smile, she bent down to his level.

"You have reunited him with his brother," she reminded him, emphasizing the sheer significance of that fact through her tone. When he tried dismissing it with a rueful shrug, she laid a hand on his shoulder and waited for him to look at her. "You did a wonderful thing, and we're all very grateful for it. Mario loves you very much no matter what. He'll want to thank you himself, no doubt."

Though he tried not to let it show, Junior was visibly elated and relieved by her response. He rocked on his heels with a boyish grin, looking proud and hopeful for the first time that day, and Peach found that his enthusiasm was contagious. With a pleased hum, she smoothed out her dress and motioned for him to follow her just as Mario and Luigi finally parted.

They didn't know how they would solve this issue, and if they were all honest with themselves, they were also very apprehensive about what was yet to come. But something had changed. They no longer felt defeated, lost or isolated. Where there had previously been nothing but fear and sadness, there was now love and support. A newfound assurance and sense of security. A powerful warmth that helped soothe the pain.

They were all together again, and this already felt like a victory in itself.

-oOo-

#Mario #Luigi #Princess Peach #Junior #Bowser Jr #Body swap #personal concept #family #comfort #love and support #brotherly bond #feels #hurt/comfort #reassurance #story #drabble #fanart #super mario bros

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daceydeath · 1 month

Text

Tipsy Confessions

Pairing: Yunho x Reader Word Count: 2.1k Genre: Smut, Brother's Best Friend Warnings: 18+, Alcohol, Swearing, Explicit Content

This was the worst idea you had ever had and simultaneously your greatest idea ever, at least that’s what you told your slightly tipsy self as you made your way towards your bedroom in the middle of the house party your brother Mingi had thrown while your parents were away. You had seen the way some of his friends looked at you. They had all made it obvious but out of the three of them only one held your attention.

Your tight red dress was a controversial choice when Mingi had first seen you in it but after a few beers he had stopped caring what you were wearing and who you were talking to or more importantly who you were flirting with. A few paces behind you was Yunho following you just like you knew he would, Mingi’s ex girlfriend had let it slip one day that Yunho had feelings for you when she was talking to Mingi, who scoffed and told her that was impossible. You, however, had been sending him subtle signs since then and after the way his eyes raked over your body and the possessive looks he gave you any time another guy would speak to you made you think it was true. Slipping into your bedroom you didn't lock the door before you simply stood in the middle of your room waiting for him.

“You’re playing with fire you know” He smiled roguishly as he stepped into your room, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure.

“Maybe I like fire” you looked at him with the best doe eyes you could manage.

“You’re going to get us both in trouble” he chuckled darkly, closing in on you until he was right in front of you, his hands moving to your hips and squeezing slightly which made you shiver in anticipation.

“I like trouble” you smiled sweetly looking up at him through your lashes making him swallow hard, tugging you slightly forward until you were pressed flush against him.

“Tell me to leave now, I might not be able to later” he murmured, giving you one last chance to stop what he was about to do.

“I want you Yunho” you admitted the last shred of your bravery tangled with the lust you were feeling burning its way through your bloodstream.

“You are going to kill me baby girl” he almost groaned leaning down to press his lips to yours hungrily. His plump lips slid against yours feeling like everything you had hoped they would, when his tongue poked at the seam of your lips you were eager to allow him entry letting him lick into your mouth messily his tongue dancing with yours. His hands slid up and around your waist his thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts as his fingers wandered your body. Lifting you suddenly you yelped and he grinned walking you to your bed and laying you down covering you with his body, slotting himself between your legs as though he was always meant to be there.

“So pretty and so pliant baby girl. Letting me just pick you up and do whatever I want to you” His words were muffled due to his mouth being still partially attached to yours. You ran your fingers through his hair while he kissed down your neck and across your chest.

“You going to let me fuck you? Huh baby girl, Gonna let me make you mine?” he smirked watching your face as you nodded violently, your brain already foggy with only thoughts of him.

“Please Yunho” you mumbled watching a wicked grin cross his face as he sat back on his knees tugging at your dress to give you the message to get it off of you while he discarded his jeans and boxers. Slipping out of your dress you didn’t miss the sound of his sharp inhale of breath when he realized you were not wearing underwear.

“Such a naughty minx” he breathed pulling his shirt over his head and pressing you back onto the bed, his hands wandering your body squeezing and massaging his way from your breasts to your thighs leaving goosebumps wherever he touched his hard length pressing against your inner thigh. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this” he smiled against your skin, kissing his way down your chest stopping only to swirl his tongue around your nipple before sucking it between his lips and teasing it with his teeth until it was swollen and hard.

“Mmm wanted this for ages” you sighed, arching into his again and grasping at his hair making him hum against your flesh as you tugged it gently before he continued to your stomach and finally to your hips. His large hands each taking hold of one of your things to spread them further apart allowing him better actress to your already glistening folds. He pressed a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, eyes staring into yours to allow you one final moment to stop him before licking a long slow stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“Yunho” you whimpered, your head falling back against the pillows as he expertly made out with your cunt, each swirl of his tongue around your clit feeling like heaven and each time he licked his tongue inside of you made your hips chase him.

“God you taste so sweet my baby girl” he groaned into you his tongue speeding up as your arousal began dripping from your hole drinking it from you like a man dying of thirst.

“Yunho…Shit…. I’m going to…Ah” you tried to form a sentence as you felt the knot that had been slowly building slowly finally snap making your legs tremble as Yunho continued to hold the open.

“You're gorgeous when you cum baby girl” he smiled, coming back up to your face to cup it and kiss you sweetly as you recovered from your orgasm. “Think I’m going to have to make you do it again and again”.

You could feel the head of his cock moving slowly through your folds as he gently rubbed himself against you collecting your essence to make it easier for him to fuck you,when you stiffened slightly not feeling as confident as you had been only moments ago and of course he sensed in immediately.

“I won’t put it… No, I mean we don’t have to continue” he swallowed hard “Fuck I should hae waitied until you were totally sober, shit you regret it don’t you? I’m sorry baby girl” he continued forcing himself away from you so he could look for his clothes to leave you.

“No wait! Yunho I want to I’m just nervous” you almost shouted grabbing at his arm to pull him back to you taking in his disappointed and slightly panicked face. “I’ve never done this so I’m nervous but I want you Yunho, I want my first time with you” you added much more quietly looking at him hopefully.

“This is your first time?” he blinked, surprised by your revelation “But I know you have had boyfriends before”.

“Yeah and it never lasted very long because I wouldn’t sleep with them” you shrugged, embarrassed that what had started out so hot and carefree was now becoming awkward and unlikely to happen at all.

“Are you sure you want this with me? I mean I will so happily fuck you, I’ve been in love with you for ages but are you sure?” he pressed softly taking your fingers ans kissing them gently.

“You love me?” you gapped not even processing the rest of the words he said.

“Shit I wasn’t going to tell you that right now” he sighed, deep pink flushing across his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears “But yes I love you”.

“So can we go back to kissing and about to have sex part please?” you asked shyly, biting your bottom lip and looking at him hopefully. The dazzling smile that crossed his face made your heart skip a beat slowly crawling back over you until he was just hovering above your lips.

“I should really be taking you out first but since you asked so nicely” he teased before pressing his lips back against yours gently, less desperate than before and far more sensual, deepening the kiss slowly as you whimpered against his lips. Yunho moved his hands back to your body carefully, letting his hands map out your body before dipping his fingers between your folds and circling your clit with feather light touches you arched into him, feeling him smile against your lips. He replaced his fingers with the head of his cock once again sliding it through your folds and letting it catch against your clit. You rolled your hips against him making him chuckle as he lined himself up with your entrance slowly pushing his aching cock into your tight hole.

“Yunho” you cried softly, the stretch of your walls around him almost too much for you but at the same time nowhere near enough.

“So tight baby girl” he panted stilling once he had sheathed himself inside you completely giving you some time to adjust “You ok if I move now? Tell me if I hurt you and I’ll stop”.

“Ah, please Yunho, ngh need more” you whined as you felt him slowly roll his hips against you the pain you were expecting was not there you could only feel pleasure.

“We have all night baby girl there is no rush” he murmured, connecting his lips to yours while he picked up his pace making you moan against his mouth. “Fuck you make such pretty noises”.

His steady pace was igniting heat in your lower belly again, each perfect deep long thrust of his hips giving you enough to start digging your nails into his back. His lips moved to your neck sloppily kissing wherever he could reach until he felt your walls beginning to flutter.

“Fuck baby girl you gonna cream on my cock?” he panted, your walls tightening around him again until you couldn’t help but come with a sharp cry of his name. Fucking you through your orgasm he slowed his hips until you were rolling your hips back against his desperately. His hips moved fast surrounding you with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and the squelch of your wet cunt as he fucked into you hard and fast.

“Where do you want it baby girl?” he moaned loudly, his thrusts turning sloppy as he neared his own peak.

“Inside me, please Yunho inside me” you babbledas you heard him growl gripping your hips so hard you thought it might leave bruises. He thrust hard and deep inside you a few more times before filling you with his seed. Instantly Yunho was cupping your face, kissing your lips, cheeks and everywhere else lighty until he was ready to pull his now softening cock from you. Collecting you gently he laid himself down cradling you to his chest while you both tried to catch your breath.

“That was incredible, baby girl” he whispered into your hair, kissing the top of your head softly “Did I hurt you?”

“No Yunho?” you yawned “That was perfect” he hummed softly as he squeezed you softly leaving you in silence for a few minutes letting your sex addled brain catch up.

“What do we do now?” your voice showing the uncertainty creeping into you.

“Well now right now I’m going to just let you rest but later maybe we go round two?” you could hear the smug look that was no doubt on his face.

“That’s not what I mean” you grumbled thinking perhaps he didn’t want to talk about it because it was just sex to him you were still just going to be his best friend's younger sister despite saying that he loved you earlier.

“I know” he admitted carefully “I know that I want you, I know I want you to be mine and I know Mingi is going to fucking kill me”.

“Mingi isn’t going to kill you” you smiled looking up at him noticing the dusting of pink on his cheeks. He had just fucked you but admiting he wanted to be with you was the embarrassing part.

“Oh yeah? I distinctly remember him saying to all of us he will kill any of his friends that dare to touch you” he joked trying to lighten the mood from how serious it had become.

“I would never let him kill you though, maybe Wooyoung, but never you” you giggled making him roll his eyes before silence overtook the pair of you. Looking into his eyes you felt so safe and loved.

“Rest baby girl I’ll stay right here with you” he soothed as you yawned again holding you tighter “We can talk about it later when you aren't so tired”.

A/N: Thank you for reading, I have recently fallen into a bit of an Ateez hole but that's alright because I love it. As always and comments, reblogs or like are appreciated you sexy sexy people xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz , @armystay89 , @damnyouficc , @roamingpolar , @tara-skyhold , @bakedlilgoonie , @krishastumblernow , @mrsseals16 , @fawnpeaks , @leeknowinggg @uno7 @tanzen-ist-gold

#Ateez #yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez hard hours #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez hard thoughts #brother's best friend

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moodywyrm · 9 months

Text

mdni.

thinking about apartment neighbor! abby. you're both young, barely out of or just finishing up bachelors degrees, maybe starting grad school. living on the fourth floor of a somewhat crappy apartment building, but figuring it out nonetheless. Abby, in apt. 4C, only vaguely (incredibly) in love with her neighbor in apt. 4D.

when abby first moved in – finally living on her own after sharing an apartment with her bestfriend, Manny, for all of undergrad – she was stunned to find the sweet bookseller from her favorite bookstore entering the apartment next to her's. y'all had already struck up an easy friendship, born from Abby's frequent trips to the bookstore.

it's a good set up, for both of you. y'all have dinner together at least once a week, usually over takeout and shitty TLC shows. You see each other in the mornings too, usually for coffee or toast or whatever pastries you've baked for breakfast. Abby doesn't know this, but at some point you started baking her favorites (pastries filled with guayaba y queso), purely so she could start her day off with a win.

Once, Abby came over with her hair loose around her shoulders, hair tie and brush in hand, tears brimming in her eyes because, for the first time in years, she couldn't braid it herself. She'd injured herself while helping out some of the kids at the rec center she volunteers at, and ended up with a pinched nerve that made it damn near impossible to lift her shoulder. It had been fine the night before, but the ache had become borderline unbearable by the time she woke up.

You sat her down at your kitchen table, easing the brush through her soft tresses, being so soft and gentle with her that she almost cried out of gratitude. Abby swore she almost started purring when you ran your fingers through her hair, sectioning it and weaving together the three chunks of hair, taking care not to pull at them.

it's so sweet, and kind, and Abby swore she wasn't in love with you but now she's reconsidering everything she's ever known. Especially when you tell her to rest for the day, letting her stay in your apartment with your fluffy black ragdoll cat, Selby, while you work your shift at the bookstore.

She spends the day reading the copy of Small Things Like These she found on your shelf, drinking the sweet tea you left her. Selby trails her around the apartment as she takes in every detail of your living room. The patchwork quilt draped over the armchair in the corner, a half-read copy of Good Omens sitting on top of it. The mismatch dinnerware sitting in a collapsible drying rack on your kitchen counter. The handmade red scarf hanging in your entry way, the fuzzy animal slippers underneath it. It's all very sweet, very you, and Abby gets the feeling she could get used to this. This sitting, waiting for you, wanting you to have someone (her) to come home to.

I dont have more coherent thoughts but uhhhhh??? tentatively back?????

#anon #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x reader fluff

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ddejavvu · 9 months

Note

Sub!cry baby!Anakin is so underrated in my opinion

yes i agree !! send me more anakin requests please <3

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Anakin's skin is flushed where you're caressing his cheeks, his long lashes fluttering as he blinks a sheen of wetness away from his eyes.

He holds your gaze, desperate to make eye contact with you. He's always doing that, staring into your eyes, and tonight is no different.

After stressful days of training, of practice, of battle, Anakin loves coming back to you and letting you take the reins. He spends his energy bettering himself on the battlefield, and is more than happy to slump against the headboard of the bed so that you can straddle his waist.

It's what you're doing now, and you've used the soft, fluffy fastener to your robe to tie his hands to the headboard. It saves him the stress of worrying about where to put them, and he can relax all of his muscles while you grind over his bulge.

This time though, something's different. You're rolling your hips over his lap, his erection long-since sunken into your wet cunt. You're riding him at a steady pace, cradling his face in your hands as you lean down to kiss him. He's desperate for you, face craned to the sky to meet your lips before you've even parted them. He laps at your bottom one, begging for entry, and when he's granted it, he licks over your tongue sweetly.

Once you're engaged in a kiss with Anakin, it's practically impossible to separate yourself from him. He's an avid kisser, content to lounge around and lock lips until you can't feel them anymore. But something makes him break away, and you're dazed as you stare down curiously at him.

"Untie me," He begs, the words a whimper in his throat that pair with the crystalline tears gathered at his waterline. You pause at the unusual request, but he speaks again, pink lips parted to plead, "I want to touch you. Please, un-untie me."

You're careful to untie him gently, delicate with his wrists. You know he could have undone the tie himself, manipulated the fabric until it slid out of its simple knot, but when you lean forwards to untie the restraint, it puts his face in your chest.

He groans as your breasts frame his face, hanging loose with no support. He nudges his nose against your ribcage, desperate to bury himself into your skin. He turns his face to the left and mouths languidly at the heated flesh of your breast, lips trailing spit in a path to your pebbled nipple.

"Ani," You breathe as he suckles your tit, lashes fluttering closed as his hands slide up your sides like he can't bear to lift them and put them where he wants them. He has to drag them over every inch of skin he can touch, and when they reach your tits he cups them gently. His thumbs press to your nipples and now that his mouth is free, it's back on your own. He sucks at your bottom lip just like he had your nipple and he licks desperately into your mouth when you let him in with a groan. You roll your hips over his and feel his dick twitch where he's buried in your cunt, and his lips part between yours to let out a moan of his own.

"Touch me," He begs, his voice thick with need, but he doesn't mean he wants your hands scratching at his back or tugging at his broad shoulders. You lick over his tongue as you reach up to cup his cheeks, putting every ounce of love you can muster into the touches as you grind over his lap.

Anakin is love-powered. Devotion like the kind he pledges so earnestly to you is what makes him cum; knowing that you're fully his, that you love him, that you want to stroke his cheeks and pet his hair makes him cling to your chest in desperation, fistfuls of your flesh squeezed in his hands to keep you as close as possible to him.

It's why, when you murmur into his mouth, the words spilling over his tongue, "I love you," he lets go.

Anakin's warm seed fills your tight cunt and you draw him in closer, pulling at his jaw and keeping your hands flush to his heated skin. He revels in your touch, hips bucking up relentlessly as he fucks his cum into your pussy. The increased pace and desperate whining from Anakin don't exactly turn you off, and you feel your own climax slowly rolling over you like a gentle wave.

It's a calm orgasm, but not a bad one. It's just not earth-shattering, it doesn't cut out your vision or bruise your cervix. It flows through you like warmth and light, pleasure tingling at your fingertips as you keep them pressed to Anakin's skin. You kiss him sloppy through your orgasms, his stuttering to a stop while yours begins. When you're both run through and panting, sweaty at the hairlines and tired from your efforts, you flutter your eyes open, seeing his own deep, soulful brown ones staring at you already, still glossy with unshed tears.

"I love you, too." He hums, his voice firm like it's an assertion. Like you can't feel it in the way that he drags his hands down your stomach, resting them loosely on the skin there. Like he's not trying to feel you up, he's not going to grope you, he just wants skin-on-skin.

"I love you," You can't help but breathe, despite knowing you're repeating yourself. You press a kiss to his lips that he leans into immediately, soft and sweet and gentle.

"I know." He promises, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you close, his cock still buried inside of you snugly, "I know, angel, I can feel it. I love you, too."

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker scenario #anakin skywalker oneshot #anakin skywalker one-shot #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker headcanon #anakin skywalker headcanons #anakin skywalker hcs #anakin skywalker hc #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker dialogue #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker smut

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lustrousgh0st · 1 year

Text

Dirty tongue

~🖤🔞🖤~ Simon “ghost” Riley x fem!reader (code name Fox)

Warnings/tags: just smut, I know very little about cod, blowjob, cum swallowing, reader is very flirty, I guess public sex If you squint, size difference, ghost is injured, blood, spit, tears, yeah idk what else it’s smut you probably know what to expect.

Notes: I don’t feel that proud of this but I hope you enjoy it, please comment and share if you do! Will probably do a part two.

‼️Minors dni! NSFW under the cut‼️

——————————————————————————

Ghost had become accustomed to your lecherous comments and behaviour, no matter how many times he made you drop and do 20 you never gave in. In fact, you’d probably make a joke about how no man’s ever made you sweat so much. Ghost just accepted there was no changing you, It was probably your way of coping he guessed, it was hard doing this job so he couldn’t really blame you for trying to loosen the mood with a few dirty jokes.

Not that he minded at all having a hot woman making perverted jokes about him…In fact he’d say that he liked them a bit too much. It was that reason he so desperately wanted you to stop sometimes, he hated the way his cock would betray him when you made dirty comments.

Fuck knows the last time he got his dick wet and touching himself was near impossible most the time, he was depraved, frustrated.

He knew for sure that if you ever made even a hint that you weren’t joking he’d be all over you in an embarrassing time.

Right now you were tarring the squad van out of enemy territory with Ghost in the passenger seat clutching his shoulder making incredibly questionable moans.

“Shit”

he whispered through gritted teeth as you hit a bump

“sorry sir, roads a bit bumpy”

you apologised, watching him from the corner of your eye. The grimace of pain that was painted in his eyes was…oddly attractive “Hmm fuck” his voice purred right in your chest

“Jesus L.T you been shot or are you getting your dick sucked?”

You bantered. He shifted in his seat, blood trickling between his fingers

“don’t think you’d know what that sounds like sweetheart”

he retorted and you chuckled “no but I’d loveee to find out” you smirked and ghost just glared “shut the fuck up fox” he said flatly.

“Oooh you gonna make me sir?”

You giggled knowing full well you were pushing your luck now, Ghosts grip tightened and he sighed hard “drive” was all he said with a tone you don’t hear from him often. You lifted your hands apologetically with out leaving the wheel

“alright, alright, I’ll stop….how you holding up?”

You asked, changing the subject. Your lieutenant rested his head back onto the seat “I’m fine, just keep your eyes on the road” you could tell he wasn’t really okay but you knew better than to challenge your superior and so you focused on getting to base as fast as possible.

You pulled up fast outside the medic tent and quickly got out to open the passenger door for him, you wanted to offer your hand for support but you knew better than that. After you’d seen ghost inside and made sure the medic was seeing to his gun shot wound you went to quickly freshen yourself up before being called to help distribute some supplies.

You saw one labeled first aid and you quickly picked it up, seizing your chance to go check on your lieutenant. You pushed through the tent opening and surprisingly found it quite empty, only the medic could be seen washing his hands. You placed the supply box down on a bench nearby

“how’s he doing?”

You asked and the medic chuckled “well..he’s patched up” he nodded his head to one of the tented off areas at the back and you nodded in acknowledgement.

“Lieutenaaant”

you sang out before gently pulling back the sheet that covered the space, your eyes quickly met the form of ghosts topless body, littered with old scars and bruises that were still healing. A thick bandage now covered the fresh entry and exit wound on his shoulder from the bullet.

Your eyes trailed the length of his muscular body, taking note of the prominent veins that popped beneath his weirdly soft looking skin. Of course he was still wearing that damn balaclava, his blood soaked shirt discarded on the floor

“oh hellooo sailor”

you whistle with a raise of your eyebrows. Ghost, for once in his life, looked surprised before it quickly turned to his usual grimace, he sighed heavy as he lent back onto the cart that held medical supplies

“the hell are you doing in here?”

He questioned. Your eyes were still fixed on his body, taking every moment to savour the most amount of skin you’d ever seen of this man

“just droppin’ off a box of supplies and thought I’d check in on ya….glad I did”

you giggled finally meeting his eyes. Ghost folded his arms, chest being pushed up against his forearms and you noticed the little amused huff he gave. Despite his usual cold demeanour you could tell he found your banter amusing at times, like a dad who didn’t want to laugh at his child’s inappropriate jokes because the wife would tell him off.

He had to keep up the power balance of him being your lieutenant, can’t have you thinking you’re allowed to step out of line. Not with out punishment that is

“You should get back to it then soldier… t’s not wise to be ogling your superior”

he said lowly but you only stepped closer, too close

“awh come on sir, at least let me savour the view first…ya know, for later” you smirked and he swallowed thickly at your hint. The implication you’d touch yourself to the image of him was too much, it was sending his mind into overdrive.

It wasn’t often he stopped using his brain and started being controlled by his dick but right now he was so fucking horny just being alone in this tented off space was enough to get his hormones flipping out.

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you ya know that”

he purred, his eyes going dark and palms sweating as he looked down at you, so fucking close he thought, he could be on you before you even had time to realise.

“so I’ve been told” you replied and you dared to try touch his chest but your wrist was quickly gripped hard.

“s’gonna get you in a lot of trouble one day”

his voice low and heavy as he glared down at you still holding your wrist in a vice grip, your heart beating a million miles an hour at the close proximity and tension that weighs heavy in your throat every time you breathe. The air felt thick, this was different to your usual flirty banter, felt like the tension had finally reached the limit and had nothing to do but snap.

“I believe it already has sir”

your voice barely a whisper, you were really walking on thin ice now

“it appears so”

he said, you maintained the heavy eye contact he was holding as his hand slipped from your wrist and traveled up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its path. Reaching your shoulder and then your neck, thumb grazing over your pulse, he noticed the way it was thumping under his touch.

He gently grazed your jawline before slipping his grip into the back of your hair, so fast you couldn’t even register the movement. You inhaled sharply at the tight tug on the roots of your hair, your hand instinctively coming to hold onto his wrist. You both stared silently for a moment before ghost lent in, resting right by your ear, you could hardly breathe

“you wanna know what I really sound like?”

For a split second you didn’t understand, until you remembered what you’d said in the truck earlier and suddenly it felt like your stomach may vacate your body.

“Y..yes sir”

you said breathlessly, the mask of your nonchalant flirtatious attitude slipping away as it suddenly became reality. Ghost lent back, his grip loosening and coming to hook under your jaw, pulling your eyes up to meet his since he was just so much fucking taller than you.

“go on then”

he cocked a brow and you could hear the smirk in his voice, the cocky shit, you felt like a deer in the headlights of an 18 wheeler.

“really?” you questioned in disbelief, he rested back onto the cart again and waited expectingly “really” he repeated. You blinked, wide eyed while your brain rebooted, slowly falling to your knees just in front of him, your face for sure flushed a deep shade of pink.

He felt the tension in his pants grow almost impossibly tighter at the sight, the anticipation of what you were going to do, he couldn’t remember the last time he got his dick sucked.

Too long for sure.

You fumbled with his heavy belt, the significant bulge reaching down the inside of his thigh made your hands sweaty as you pictured it. You ran your fingers over the length, earning a heavy sigh from the man and then placed a trail of kisses down to the tip which had him grinding his hips forward.

Every time you glanced up you were met with that constant eye contact, making your heart pound over and over. Now that you’d unbuckled his belt and pants it was time to free the monster so to speak, shit you were nervous, what if he didn’t like it? Thought you were shit, what if you fucked up and scraped your teeth against him? Oh the embarrassment. Worst of all what if you couldn’t make him cum? Fuck, you’d have to leave the task force for sure, move country, get a new profession, change your name.

All the over thinking was making your mouth dry and that was definitely not what you needed before sucking a dick. You closed your eyes and shook your head ever so gently to mentally reset yourself and you couldn’t help the smirk that spread on your face as you realised just how crazy this was “something funny?” Ghost questioned and you shook your head

“no….well, just this is so crazy, I mean I’m actually about to suck your dick. You, my lieutenant”

ghost hummed in acknowledgement.

“quite the situation you’ve got yourself into sweetheart”

he purred, reaching to pull the band of his boxers down exposing the base of his cock, thick veins snaking down his shaft. You felt yourself throbbing at the sight, the way his hands looked, the veins on his arms and flexed muscles, the trail of hair from his belly button.

The scent of natural musk and sweat coming from him had you feeling almost animalistic, slick coating your underwear

“hmm come on sir, get your cock out already, I’m dying to see”

you bit your lip. Trailing your hands along the soft skin of his abdomen he throbbed when you got inches away from his dick

“shit, dirty girl”

he hummed as he finally pulled himself free, thick and heavy hanging over the waist of his boxers and pants. Oh my fucking god it was gorgeous, perfect, mouth watering. You wasted no time taking hold of it, your fingers just barely connecting

“holy shit L.T how do you walk with this thing?” You said bewildered.

“I’d say a 3rd leg makes walking easier”

he quipped, fuck he’s self aware “fuck off” you bantered and ghost chuckled.

It kept throbbing in your grip, heavy as you stroked the full length, a clear bead seeping from the tip which you eagerly dragged along your tongue while your eyes stayed locked on his. The feeling of your tongue sent a shiver up his spine, the hairs on his arm standing on end as he stared at your mouth.

The hot, wet hole he wanted to fuck so bad taunting him and when you finally sealed your lips around the head he groaned almost pathetically desperate. You wished you had the self control to slowly tease him, working his dick until he whined and begged but right now you just wanted him to fuck your mouth. Wanted to feel him sitting hot and heavy on your tongue, wanted his blunt head to force it’s way down your throat, wanted to taste the salty thick cum at the end of it all and prove your loyalty by swallowing it. Ghosts head lolled back as the pleasure swept his body

“fuuuuck”

he groaned deeply, his hand coming down to encompass the back of your head, almost able to fully cover the circumference. You hummed with lust while taking him as deep as you could, it wasn’t his full length but it didn’t seem like he minded, probably just happy to be getting his dick sucked.

He held your head steady and ever so gently fucked his hips into you, spit started to slip down your chin, the thickness of his dick pushing it out with every movement. Ghost never let up on his noises, moaning and purring deep in his throat constantly, it would be no secret what was going on behind these curtains if anyone overheard.

One hand stayed braced on his muscular thigh as you moved the other to cup his heavy balls, he jolted a bit at the touch but soon cursed hard when you started gently fondling them.

“Bloody hell fox”

it was laced with his heavy accent “shit that’s good” his hold on the back of your head suddenly became a tight grip, once again tugging on your hair. You were no longer in control of your head, ghost taking complete dominance, you just had to do your best to not choke or gag but tears were starting to weep from your eyes. When ghost looked down to see your sweet eyes filled with glossy tears, eyebrows furrowed together and soft pink-lips parted over his cock he felt his balls tighten painfully

“oh sweetheart..keep looking at me like that and I won’t last”

That didn’t exactly make you stop, the idea you could make him cum so easy was only incentive for you, wanted him to never forget it. You took the hand that was playing with his balls and wrapped it around the head of his cock, placing your mouth on the end and stroking down his length until it entered your mouth again.

You used your hand and mouth to jerk him off for probably all of 5 seconds before he was forcing your movements to still, breathing out a heavy

“careful”

it was a low husk laced with lust. You smirked devilishly “why?” Continuing to lick the tip but his tight grip in your hair soon pulled you away but you quickly defied him and continued working your hand.

Eventually ghost gave up trying to resist, giving in to your movements and releasing his grip on you in favour of leaning back

“Jesus christ”

he said in ecstasy, you felt him trembling, twitching and throbbing all over. He was close, so close and you never imagined such a wall of a man to be so vocal and trembling when getting his dick sucked. Ghost could feel the twinge every time your hand slid over the sensitive tip, he wouldn’t lie he felt embarrassed to be cuming so fast but shit you knew how to work his cock.

When he started practically panting and knuckles going white you knew that was the cue so you stuck out your tongue and stroked him against it. That face, that fucking face, eyes blown with lust, hot tongue acting as a pillow for his dick, Jesus it had him cuming hard.

Thick globs of hot white coating your tongue and lips as he moaned like a porn star, you’re gonna replay that sound in your memory so many times for sure. His chest still heaved as he burned the image of his cum decorating your mouth into his wank bank.

“Fuck, keep looking at me”

he husked, cock still bobbing with post orgasm sensitivity “look so good like that” he watched as you used your tongue to swipe his cum from your lips.

As you were still licking the mess up you both heard someone enter the tent, ghost quickly stuffed his softening cock back into his pants and you just about got to your feet before footsteps approached the bay “L.T?” Soaps voice called.

Your eyes shot wide and ghost gave you a look that said “act fuckin’ normal” as he called back to the man, your comrade pulled back the curtain and raised a brow when he saw you both.

“S’goin on in here?“

he smiled suspiciously “Johnny” ghosts commanding voice replied as though he wasn’t just trembling and whining moments ago. Soap flicked his eyes between you two, your hair still slightly messed and face flushed, he was definitely suspicious but he remained casual

“just checkin you’re good sir, been in here a while is all, men were askin”

he motioned behind him. Ghost cleared his throat, noticing the way his belt was still loosely undone

“I’m fine McTavish, take more than a bullet to the shoulder to kill me”

and soap laughed “too right L.T”. Soap gave a gentle nod to ghost and winked at you before starting to leave when he stoped in his tracks

“oh sir…put a shirt on, yeah?”

He smirked and left leaving the both of you to linger in the embarrassment. When your eyes flicked back to ghost his gaze was already fixed on you, he gestured for you to come to him and you did. He stroked your face, moving your hair out the way

“I guess I should go”

you mumbled kinda forlornly and ghost hummed in agreement. His hand snaked down your waist to your ass and squeezed a handful “come to my tent later” he suggested against the skin of your neck, clothed lips leaving a trail.

“Oh? Was that not enough? You horndog lieutenant”

You joked but your breath hitched when one of his hands moved to your waistline and teased at the skin underneath. Your heart was racing again

“Hmm no, I’m just not the kind of guy to not return the favour”

Oh, oh my god. You bit your lip at the thought

“Is that so?”

“It is”

“Well then, my hands are tied” you smirked before placing a longing gentle kiss over his balaclava, having to get on the balls of your feet to reach.

“Go on soldier” Ghost smacked your ass as you turned to leave, making you flinch, and you had to quickly wipe the wide smile from your face before you left the med tent.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley smut #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #babygirl ghost #ghost fanfiction #Ghost mw2 smut #mw2 smut #mw2ghost #smut writers #smut blog #dark content #dark content writer #mdni

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xenaizogie · 8 months

Text

Sooo...I wrote a thing....

Izogie got me down bad and i'm just tryin to clear my head lol

The only thing you need to know is Izogie broke a couple nails in battle...

1.8k words

Insatiable Desire

You can feel her presence enter the bath house before you can hear her. You have been waiting to have her to yourself all day. You don’t turn around, eyes closed, silently listening to her disrobe, avidly picturing each expanse of chocolate skin being exposed in your mind. The slight ripples of the water gently lap at your frame as she draws near, and you shiver in anticipation. Her hands reach you first, slowly sliding around your waist, gently pulling your body back flush against her. Her voice, silky and smooth, caressing against your ear as she greets you.

“Hello, my love” she says, nibbling at your ear lobe before pressing warm moist kisses down the length of your neck. You tilt your head to the side to give her better access as your body melts fully back into hers, a contented sigh leaving your lips.

“I missed you today” you say, hands gliding up and down the arms holding firmly around your middle. Her low hum sends goosebumps in its wake, and you find yourself twisting in her arms, lips eagerly seeking out hers.

The kiss starts off slow, a gentle meeting of the lips. At the first contact of her lips on yours you both sigh and she pulls you impossibly closer. Your hands snake their way up her arms and over her shoulders, your arms coming to rest around her neck as her hands begin to roam. Her hands make a leisurely journey across your back and over your hips, touching whatever skin she can reach. All the while never breaking the kiss; slowly, steadily deepening it. Her tongue reaches out to glide across your bottom lip, and you gasp as the contact, granting her the entry she seeks. Tongues meet in a languid dual, both seemingly fighting for dominance. What started as a warm and fuzzy heat radiating through your body at the first touch of her hands, is gradually turning into a boil, simmering just below the surface of your skin. You break apart only for the need of air and she peppers your jawline down to your neck with kisses.

Izogie overwhelms your senses in the best possible way. The faint taste of whiskey on her lips. The scent of palm oil mingled with an aroma all Izogie’s own. Solid muscles encased in the satin silkiness of her ebony skin, always a treat for the eyes to behold. Feeling that toned firmness yielding beneath the stroke of your fingertips. Every gasp, moan, whispered words of love that falls from her lips stored away among your most precious possessions.

Her hands traveled over the swell of your ass once, twice, before gripping a handful in each hand and lifting, your wet body easily gliding up hers. Your legs instinctively wrap around her waist as your lips crash together again, the kiss deep, sensual, and all-consuming. The sensations of the cool water in stark contrast to your heated core rubbing against the abs of her stomach drawing a low moan from your throat. You feel her smirk against your lips, and you pull away trailing kisses along her jaw towards her ear. She is trailing nibbling kisses along your collar bone sending shivers down your spine as you reach your destination.

“More.”

One word. A moan really, and it has her springing into action. You are on the edge of the bath, and she has pulled herself up beside you before your body can even begin to register the loss of her warmth. She spreads a towel out before laying you down, her body fused to yours, smoothly following you as you lay. Her lips attached to yours, hers hand everywhere all at once. Your body arches up into hers, pressing closer still but never quite close enough.

The feeling of her hands skating over your body towards your aching breasts has you sizzling with excitement. She cups one in her left hand, pinching the nipple between her forefingers as the fingertips of her right trail tantalizing circles around the other. Both nipples get rock hard almost instantly and your body’s reaction to her touch has her moaning into your mouth. Her lips soon follow the path of her hands, placing succulent kisses along their route down your neck and across your chest, your luscious breast their next destination.

Slowly her tongue circled your areola drawing closer and closer towards your pert nipple. When her tongue finally reaches your nipple, the warm, moist heat of her mouth follows immediately thereafter. The feeling is electric, and your hands fly to the back of her head to hold her in place. As if she needed any encouragement. She suckles at your breast like she is starved and only you can provide her with the nourishment she so desperately needs. Alternating from one jiggling globe to the other, trailing hot wet kisses in between, dragging languorous moans from you.

The trail begins to lead down, leisurely across your toned stomach, tongue pausing to tease the rim of your belly button. Down further still, the fragrance of your arousal greeting her before her lips skim across your lower lips. The soft kisses she places on your inner thighs drawing whimpers from you. Up one thigh and down the other, never venturing far from where you needed her most. Your need pulsing, throbbing its own rhythm deep in your core. You draw up on your elbows, mesmerized by the sight before you. Izogie, your very own ebony goddess, stretched out before you, hands under your thighs, head buried in between. Teasing you beyond reasonable thought and she had not even reached the knob of your burning desire yet.

“Please” you moan, nearly delirious with want of her.

Izogie arches her eyebrow, locking eyes with you, a growl emanating deep in her throat. She loves to hear you beg, but thankfully tonight you don’t have to ask again. She dives in, the tip of her tongue circling your clit before she slurps it greedily into her waiting mouth. Your eyes slide closed as your head tips back, your moans echoing around the chamber. She releases you with an audible pop, tongue dipping lower to fully taste your honied nectar.

“Mmmmm” she hums, the sound sending vibrations deep inside you.

Her tongue is swirling around your slit, dipping inside every so often. Her grip on your thighs tightens as you begin to grind your hips, desperate to increase the pressure. Izogie nuzzles her nose against your clit as her tongue delves in as far as she can reach before pulling out over and over and over again. Her arms come fully around your thighs to steady you, your hips bucking up eagerly against her mouth. Moans are steadily tumbling from your mouth; she’s driving you to the edge already. She drags her tongue slowly out of you and up, taking your clit in her mouth once again. The subtle pressure of her lightly sucking your nub into her mouth while simultaneously swirling her tongue around it has you grasping at her arms, her grip on your thighs not stopping you from riding out your pleasure on her face.

“Yeeesssss…”

“Right…there…baaabby…”

“Fuuucckkk ‘Zo…”

“Just…like…that…”

You are babbling, almost incoherent, your moans nonstop. Izogie can feel you throbbing against her tongue, feel the tremor in your legs on the side of her head, she knows you are close. She pops your clit out of her mouth before quickly slurping it up harder, applying more pressure with the tip of her tongue. The trembles intensify, vibrating throughout your entire body, you’re teetering on the edge. Her long finger invading your tight heat, filling you up, caressing against your sweet spot is your undoing. The coil wound tight in the pit of your stomach snaps, your orgasm violently ripping through you, shudders overtaking your body. Your back arcs up off the towel, your legs threatening to close but Izogie is unfazed, never stopping even as she draws up on her knees. Her hums mingling with your moans as she continues to draw out your pleasure.

“I could drink from you all day” she says when she finally releases you.

Before you even have a chance to respond, your body still racked with quivers, she fills you with two fingers. You can’t tell if the moan that fills the air around you is yours or hers, or both. Your brain is in overdrive, the sensations of her finger fucking you and whispering heated words of passion engulfing your senses. This is such a rare treat. Your hips are already rolling, matching her rhythm, her thrusts deep inside you, slow and sensual. She dips her head briefly, lapping at your clit, your essence already beginning to pool in her hand.

“Oouuuuu….”

Out. In. Deep. Curl. Out. In. Deep. Curl.

“Fuuuuccckkkk….”

Her mouth is ceaseless on your clit, lightly sucking, tongue swirling.

“Izogie…Izogie…Izo-uunnhhh….”

Your walls are clenching, squeezing at her fingers. You can feel your essence dripping, rolling over your ass pooling beneath you. She has you racing towards your peak, her movements still slow and sensual. The sound of her name falling from your lips has her moaning into you, the vibrations starting a tremble in your legs, you’re close again already. Izogie releases your clit, increasing the pace of her strokes. She’s biting her bottom lip, watching you and you want nothing more than to take that lip in your mouth, but it seems coherent thought is escaping you. You reach out to her, and she inches up you, straddling your thigh, melting into your embrace. Her lips are hot on yours, passionate, while she picks up the pace yet again. Her lips are blazing a trail to your ear, her hips are slowly grinding down on your thigh, your entire body is pulsating with electric pleasure.

“You’re so fucking sexy.”

“Give it to me baby.”

“That’s it…just like that.”

“Cum for me.”

The sound of her voice, low and sultry in your ear, commanding you, thrusts you over the edge. Your body writhing against hers, your hands digging into her hips, her mouth pressed to your ear murmuring praises, orgasm number three is on top of you before you know it. Stars explode behind your eyes, your shaking uncontrollable, your moans nonstop, your essence gushing out of you, coating her hand, the puddle beneath you ever growing. She finally begins to slow, drawing out your orgasm still, gazing down at you with that damn smirk on her face. Your body still quaking with aftershocks, your hands begin to glide up her hips around her front. You cup her breasts and lift your thigh at the same time, planting your foot. You lock eyes with her, wearing your own smirk now as her eyelids slide low and a gasp slips from her lips.

“More.”

One word. A moan really, and it has you springing into action.

Chapter 2

A/N: Soooo??? Be honest. What you think???Let me know!!! crazy thing is I didn't even get to the scene that got me in a chokehold lol pray for my screnff!! And sorry to comma(,) who i abused profusely while writing this lol

#izogie #the woman king #lashana lynch #izogie x reader #izogie smut #izogie fanfiction

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blueraineshadows · 2 months

Text

Blood Bound Part Five

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

Sebastian heads into the unknown to break MC out of Azkaban. MC struggles to adjust to the outside world. Leander descends deep underneath London to scope out the illegal duelling ring.

15k words. Tags: NSFW / threat / blood / violence / angst / unresolved sexual tension / torture / organised crime / PTSD / anxiety

Chapter Master List and AO3

Mutuals taglist at the end 💖✨️

Five: The Prince, the Villain, and the Maiden Fair

Sebastian

Looking at the map Black Dahlia had made one last time, Sebastian was fairly confident that he could find his way through the corridors of Azkaban towards MC's cell. The hum of anticipation throbbed through him as he folded the parchment, tucked it into his jacket pocket, and touched his fingers to the blood amulet. Clenching his jaw, he glanced across to where Rosier stood waiting, dressed all in black like him, a serious expression on his pretty face.

He was going to get MC. This time, when he arrived at the cell door, she would be real and not a phantom in a memory.

“I'm ready when you are, mate,” Rosier said, holding out his hand.

Sebastian nodded, reaching out to grasp Rosier along his lower arm, and Rosier grasped him the same way. Their eyes met, an acknowledgement passing between them that they were about to travel into a highly dangerous and horrific place, breaking Wizarding law to bring out a convicted prisoner.

“Let's go,” Sebastian said firmly, his stomach twisting viciously as he visualised the reception chamber from the memory and Disapparated them both with a crack.

The first thing that struck Sebastian was the chilling oppressiveness, his stomach catching up from the long distance Apparition as he stumbled into existence inside the Auror reception chamber, Rosier catching his breath beside him. As his eyes swung about the room, recognising it from the pensieve memory, he shivered at the utter desolation and icy chill that crept up his neck.

“Well, this is nice,” Rosier huffed, ruffling his hair as he gazed around. “I love what they have done with the place.”

Throwing Rosier a dark look, Sebastian stepped up to the signing in book on the counter, his finger brushing over the column of entries written by Prewett. He had been here nearly every day for the last few weeks, the last entry only yesterday. Adrenaline was pulsing through Sebastian, his hands curling into fists as he turned his gaze towards the door that led into the prison proper.

“Have your wand at the ready,” he said quietly, slipping his own out. “Those Dementors will likely be on us straight away.”

“Have you ever come up against one before?”

Sebastian swallowed as he looked at his partner in crime and shook his head. “No, but I’ve practised the Patronus charm plenty enough,” he said, gripping the handle of his wand tightly. “I hope you have, too.”

Rosier’s blue eyes darkened with a memory, and his gaze flicked down. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m up against. Dementors came for my father. I was just a kid, but I’ll never forget it.”

The leaden ball of grief that Sebastian carried in his own chest tugged sharply as he took in the shadows on Rosier’s face. He knew what it was like to lose a parent so young. He nodded and turned his gaze back towards the door, lifting to pat his hand against Rosier’s back in a gesture of understanding.

“We get to the cell, get MC out, and then we get the fuck out of this place. Alright?”

“This girl better be worth it, mate. That’s all I can say,” Rosier said, readying himself.

Sebastian felt his throat constrict, his eyes hardening. “Trust me. She is worth it.”

The frigid weight of despair grew heavier as they walked swiftly down the corridor, the fire sconces casting flickering shadows in their wake as they approached MC’s wing, the distant mournful screams of those trapped here making Sebastian’s heart thud rapidly beneath his ribs. Trying to shut out the sounds became almost impossible as they entered the colossal prison wing, barred cell doors offering unsettling glimpses into life here that he tried to avert his eyes from.

Above their heads swooped the tattered robes of the guards, the chilling rattle of their death breaths spurring Sebastian on quicker, his own breathing harsh and tight as two Dementors broke free from their pack and rushed downwards towards him and Rosier.

“Expecto Patronum!” Rosier cast, his arm thrust upwards, a burst of white erupting from his wand in a swelling arc. The Dementors hesitated, retreating back towards the high ceiling, their shifting shapes being swallowed in the darkness beyond.

“It’s not much further,” Sebastian muttered, already looking forward to getting out of here. He held the back of his hand against his nose, breathing through his mouth to avoid the stench of abandoned humans. The true horror of Azkaban was laid bare as his boots scraped against the dark stone, eyes checking the numbers above the doors until he came to the one he needed, and he slowed his step.

“Is this it?” Rosier asked quietly.

A rasping chuckle sounded from the darkness, and Sebastian glanced to the opposite side of the corridor, the gnarled hands of an old crone grasping the iron bars of her door. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the sight of her, repulsed by the gaping maw of her mouth and the filth of the ragged prison garb she wore. This one had been here a long time and was still clinging to mortality by a thread of madness.

“Merlin’s bollocks,” Rosier hissed, flinching back. He visibly shivered, and the woman cackled even louder. “That ain’t her, is it?”

“Don’t be a twat,” Sebastian scowled, grabbing Rosier by the front of his coat and shuffling him away from the crone and towards MC’s door.

He was impatient to see her, desperate to get her out of here, his guilt making the oppression feel thicker than it had any right to be. With his heart in his mouth, he stepped up to the cold iron bars of her door and peered into the gloom, his eyes sweeping the cell. A slight crease formed on his brow as there appeared to be no sign of her.

“MC,” he whispered, taking hold of a bar of the door and gasping as it swung on its hinges. It was unlocked.

Stomach plummeting, icy fear prickling the back of his neck, he yanked the door open and stepped into the cell, calling her name louder, but the room was empty. It was impossible. Panic gripped his throat, and he darted back out to check the cell number again, certain it was the right place. Tugging out the piece of parchment, he double-checked the details, his chest so tight his breathing sounded too loud to his own ears. He was in the right place.

“What’s going on?” Rosier asked, his eyes glancing up and down the corridor nervously, his throat bobbing.

“She should be here!” Sebastian said, returning to the cell as though MC would have appeared in the seconds he had been gone, but the room remained stubbornly empty. A bucket and a mug stood on the floor, and on a stone ledge, next to a dirty blanket, was a small glass potion bottle, the stopper discarded beside it. “Where is she?”

Rosier shrugged, glancing around the cell himself, the cold squalor of it making his cheeks paler than usual. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Yes,” Sebastian snapped, his fingers wrinkling the parchment as he felt his fear shift into fury. His cheeks flushed with it, eyes so dark they glittered as he strode out of the cell. “If that bitch, Black Dahlia, has tricked us, then she is going to die a very slow and painful death.”

Rosier was close on his heels, worry creasing his brow as he glanced up at the gathering interest above their heads. “Seb, we need to hurry up,” he muttered. “We need to get out of here.”

Grabbing at his hair in frustration, Sebastian realised that he couldn’t even search the prison in case she had been moved to a different cell. It made him almost choke. MC could be anywhere in this vast tomb of horror, and he had neither the time or the resources to hunt for her.

Fear and fury twisted together and he felt like screaming, the burn of it choking up his throat as he swung his arm out, wand lighting up and blasting a huge ball of fire down the corridor in his rage. The prisoners screamed and yelled, the clanging sound of tin cups on bars filling the air and the rasping, maddening cackle of the crone in her cell.

Ignoring Rosier’s attempts to calm him down, Sebastian rounded on the scrawny hag, his eyes narrowing. She stared at him through the bars, her eyes lit with gleeful madness.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,” she crooned, wheezing with delight, her withered frame shaking with mirth. “All these pretty boys after the maiden fair.”

Sebastian stalked towards her, his wand up. The old bitch didn’t even flinch, her eyes pale and glowing with mischief as she eyed him. “Where is the girl from the cell opposite?” He demanded.

Her toothless grin was hideous, and his fingers flexed on his wand, his rage searing through his blood. MC had been within his grasp, and now she had been plucked out of thin air. Gone.

“Tell me!” He yelled. “Where did she go?”

“Bloody hell, mate, easy,” Rosier said, stepping up beside him. “How is she going to know? She’s fucking insane. Look at her.”

The hag tittered, her gnarled fingers clutching excitedly at her bars. “Every maiden fair must have a prince to rescue her,” she rambled. She began to sway, her smile almost idiotic. “But, princes and men can be fickle. He left her, made her scream like he’d torn her heart asunder.”

“What does that mean?” Sebastian demanded, his breaths now shuddering into his lungs. “Who left her?”

She went quiet, her eyes sly as she peered through the bars, her mouth curving into a wicked grin. “This one is jealous. Perhaps he is the villain here. He wants her for himself, but the prince came and took her away.”

Prewett’s name written in the book flashed up behind Sebastian’s eyes. Along with the memory from the pensieve and the sound of Prewett’s name on MC’s lips with that desperate look in her sunken gaze. Teeth clenching so tight it hurt, Sebastian’s fury seemed to flicker in front of his eyes. The very thought of Leander Prewett whisking MC away from under his nose like a knight on a white horse made his blood boil. That wasn’t how things were meant to be.

Why would he take MC out of here? It didn't make sense.

This pathetic witch and her fairy tale taunts were too much, his jealous temper flaring in a white, hot spark that fizzed down his arm as he thrust his wand towards her. Her eyes screamed of madness, and it curdled his blood, the need to expel the horror made the curse burst from his lips.

“Crucio!”

Her howls of pain filled his ears, her skeletal face grotesque as she reeled back from the door, clattering to the floor like a bag of bones as red sparks flickered in the darkness. He waited for the satisfaction to come, but it didn't. The sight of the wretch bucking and screaming did nothing to ease his horror or his fury. Inflicting agony on this pathetic creature wouldn't bring MC back here, and yet he held the curse on her, trying to syphon out his pain.

Those he loved kept being stolen from him, and he wasn't sure how many more times he could take it.

“Bloody hell!” Rosier grabbed him, trying to pull Sebastian’s wand arm back. “What are you doing?”

Sebastian had lost sense of what was going on around him, his fury so thick and hot that he shoved Rosier back, slamming his hand against cold iron with a scream of rage. “Who took her? Where is MC?”

Gasping and drooling, the old crone trembled and clawed at the stone floor, her eyes rolling as she made guttural moans of pain despite the curse no longer holding her. Sebastian’s lip was curled in disgust, his eyes blazing whilst his heart seemed to squeeze behind his ribs. It felt like it had been drained bloodless. How could MC not be in her cell? How could she have left this place without him knowing about it?

A cold thought entered his head, wiping out his fury in an instant, and he stilled, eyes horror struck as he glanced back at MC’s cell.

Was she dead?

Immediate denial slammed through him, but he bent forward, unable to draw breath as the possibility refused to be quieted. He winced as his knees hit the hard stone, all colour draining from his face as he shook his head. Desperate now, he grabbed the bars of the hag’s door, his breathing shallow.

“Did she walk out of here?” He asked, his voice switching to pleading now. “Please, tell me she walked out. She can’t be…no. She isn’t dead. I would know.”

His hand fumbled into his pocket, fingers caressing over the bloodstone amulet, seeking reassurance. Surely, if MC were to be dead, the stone would cease to hold true to the pact. It would shatter into pieces, no longer useful or functional. Much like his heart if he ever lost her.

The hag turned her head, her bloodshot eyes fixing on him with a stare that made him feel even colder, goosebumps shivering along his arms and up his neck. Her mouth worked as she tried to speak, her chin slick with drool and blood where she had smashed her face when she fell. To Sebastian’s horror, she began to laugh. A rasping, gurgling chuckle that escalated into screeching howls of mad cackling, her head thrown back as she clutched at her wasted midriff.

Strong hands gripped him under his arms, hefting him upwards. “For fuck sake, Sallow. Get up!” Rosier berated, pulling Sebastian up to his feet. “We’ve got to run. Now!”

Recoiling from the mad wretch in her cell, Sebastian forced himself to look up, his eyes widening at the gathered mass of Dementors circling above them. “Shit,” he muttered.

“Come on,” Rosier said, pulling on his arm, his wand raised upwards. “Run, for Merlin’s sake!”

They ran, boots thudding on the stone as the other cells passed by in a blur, their breaths beginning to mist from the spreading ice of the Dementors presence. Wraiths began to swoop downwards, and the terrifying rattle of their breathing sounded loud in their ears. Sebastian saw the door to the Auror’s chambers and grabbed Rosier by the arm, hauling him towards it. He felt the brush of tattered robes ghost near his ear, and he ducked, turning swiftly on the spot and jabbing his wand upwards.

With a fierce glare on his face, he allowed his mind to fill with memories of better days, soft dreamy images of his friends at school, Anne running through the fields in Feldcroft with her hair wild about her rosy cheeks. He thought of nights secreted away in the Undercroft with a good book and even better company, summers with his parents sailing on the lochs, and the addictive taste of kisses with the girl who had stolen his soul at the sweet age of sixteen.

Better times, happier times, before the darkness had come to claim him.

“Expecto Patronum!”

The spell burst from his wand with such force he had to clamp two hands around it to hold it steady, the brilliant swell of white light filling the corridor and pressing the Dementors back. As the black wraiths spiralled upwards and away, chased by the white phantom of a leaping fox, Sebastian began to step backwards into the doorway. Rosier watched his Patronus charm with a look of awe on his face, the light of the magic reflecting in his blue eyes.

Slamming the door of the reception chamber open, Sebastian came to a stop before the long counter, bracing his hands against it whilst he caught his breath. Rosier gasped beside him, shaking his head as he planted his hands on his thighs.

“Get us out of here,” he panted. “I am done.”

Sebastian nodded, his gaze catching on the wooden boards hung on the wall opposite him, all the prisoner numbers and their images on display. Eyes moving swiftly, he came to where MC’s prisoner board should have been in the order of cell numbers, and his stomach turned to lead. The board was missing. A blank space with just an iron peg jutting from the stone. She really was gone.

Dragging the heavy signing-in book towards him, he looked at the last two entries for her prisoner number. Harrington and Prewett, and then Prewett again yesterday. If anyone knew where she was, it was going to be Leander. His eyes narrowed in thought. It was time to have a little chat with Andrew Larson. He needed to get to Leander and fast.

Taking hold of Rosier’s arm, he nodded and then Disapparated them out, his feet landing on the wooden floorboards of the small room in the Black Rose that he shared with Rosier. With a flick of his wand, he lit the lamp, pushing back the darkness, craving some warmth and normality after the dark oppression of the prison. Slumping in relief and defeat, Sebastian sat down hard on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. How had it gone so horribly wrong?

Rookwood was going to be furious. They had risked their necks going into that prison, and they had come out empty-handed. Solomon had always said he would amount to nothing, and no doubt would side with Ominis and Anne over his choice of companions lately, but to fuck up at something like this. Solomon would be laughing from his grave, no doubt.

“I always knew you would end up a failure, boy.”

Shuddering at the darker memories of his childhood struggles, Sebastian shoved them away, his insecurities starting to eat into him. His fury now dissipated, Sebastian felt the ball of grief in his chest swell, and he swallowed through it, rubbing his face at the loss of MC all over again.

“What the fuck was that all about back there, Seb?” Rosier asked, still getting his breath back. “You cast Crucio on that crone, and for what? She was crazy, talking about a load of rubbish. Why get so mad?”

Sebastian glanced up at Rosier, once again lamenting his need to keep the man at arms length. When people knew too much, they became a liability, and he rather liked Leo. Losing his temper back at the prison had revealed his hand, and he mulled over his words as he looked up at his camp mate.

“It was fucked up,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I will be lucky if Rookwood doesn't torture my own arse the same way for failing.”

Rosier studied him, slowly taking a seat on the twin bed opposite Sebastian, drumming his fingers on the faded bedspread.

“This girl, this MC. Just what, exactly, does she mean to you, Seb?” He asked, drawing his lower lip into his mouth thoughtfully. “You lost your shit when you realised she was gone, and when you mentioned her being dead, you were as white as a sheet. How would you know if she was dead? What's going on? There's more to this, isn't there?”

Sebastian pressed his fingers to his lips, eyeing Rosier with a sinking realisation that he had definitely revealed too much. He had managed to deflect his questions in the Leaky Cauldron, but Rosier was as smart as a whip, and Sebastian wouldn't be able to fool him for long. With a sigh, he let his hands drop between his thighs, his expression one of defeated exhaustion as he looked at Rosier. He was tired, so very tired of feeling alone.

“She means something to me,” he confessed. “I thought I was going to get her back tonight, and yet her cell was empty. After four long years of waiting, I feel like I just lost her all over again.”

Rosier closed his eyes and nodded, glancing down at his booted feet for a moment before speaking. “Does Rookwood know?”

“He probably suspects,” Sebastian admitted. “I've never openly talked about it, only that I know her.”

“And Lulu?” Rosier lifted his gaze to Sebastian, his eyebrows lifted in enquiry about the beautiful witch.

Sebastian groaned and shook his head. “She hasn't heard a thing from me about MC, so if she knows anything, it's whatever her father has told her.”

“Merlin’s beard, Seb. You walk a tight line, don't you?” Rosier smirked. “I've always had the feeling you've got deep secrets. But, I never realised just how close to the edge you walked with Rookwood. Withholding information, fucking his daughter on the sly…are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Sebastian matched Rosier’s smirk and shrugged. “What's life without a little adventure?”

“You're a slippery bastard, Sallow,” Rosier huffed, shaking his head. He pushed his fingers through his blonde hair and smiled. “I won't say anything about your prisoner girl. I have to say, though, I'm rather looking forward to meeting her. All this excitement surrounding her, she sounds like fun.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “You'll be keeping your hands to yourself, Rosier,” he warned. “Not only do I know where they've been, it would be a shame to hex them. They are rather useful in a scrap.”

Rosier laughed, falling back onto his bed and holding his hands up. “I swear to all gods known to man, I won't make a play for her.”

“Then I guess we can remain friends,” Sebastian smirked, laying back on his own bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

A quiet settled over the room as both men processed the last hour or so, shadows of darker memories trying to creep into Sebastian’s thoughts, the echo of the old crones screams pressing on his conscience.

“MC means that much to you, and yet wasn't she serving time for doing your uncle in?” Rosier asked, turning to look at him.

Sebastian worried at his lower lip, keeping his gaze fixed upwards as he thought about Solomon and his cruel mouth, his swinging fists, and unforgiving eyes.

“My uncle was a mean bastard,” Sebastian said flatly. “MC was the only one who really understood.”

She had understood, and she remained at his side. She had bled for him, lied for him, and she had spent four years in that chilling nightmare of a place for him. Seeing the reality of Azkaban and remembering the image of her in that pensieve memory, the leaden ball in his chest that held his guilt and grief seemed to spread into every fibre of his being. Had he really done enough to help her? Her sacrifices were huge in comparison to his efforts to save her, and it weighed heavily on him, his fingers caressing the scar on his palm.

That old hag had called him a villain of MC's story, and Sebastian had retaliated by hitting her with the Cruciatus curse. A curse he had cast on MC in the Scriptorium in order to save himself. Maybe he was the villain of her life, and the thought was not a comfortable one. Next to him, Prewett would be a knight in shining armour, a prince coming to save the maiden fair.

“So, she killed him for you?” Rosier asked. The question hung heavy in the air, rather close to the bone in truth. She didn't take Solomon down, but she took the fall. She did it for him.

“I owe her everything, Leo,” Sebastian said with a sigh. “I've got to find her. Whatever it takes.”

“Then we find her,” Rosier said with finality. “What's the plan? Are we still going to track this Auror down that you knew?”

“That's top of the list,” Sebastian said, determination darkening his gaze. “Prewett knows where she is. His name was in that prison ledger, inked by his own fucking hand, and that nasty crone pretty much told us that MC left with a man. It was him. I know it was.”

“Then that's what we'll do. As long as Rookwood doesn't kill us first.”

Sebastian threw Rosier a smirk as he adjusted the lumpy pillow under his head. “I'd like to see him try. He talks a big game, but I reckon I could take him easily enough. He'd be too scared to get his gentleman's coat dirty in a real fight. That's why he has men like Carrow around to do the hard work.”

Rosier chuckled. “Do you reckon you could take Carrow?”

Sebastian’s grin split his face, his eyes gleaming at the thought. “You're looking at a duelling champion here, mate. I take great pleasure in bringing down bastards like Carrow. I took Prewett down a few times during the duelling matches we used to fight. He might have passed the Auror Program, but I could still take him on.”

The villain against the white knight. He had never wanted to be a villain. He wanted to be the one MC needed. He would rather be her white knight than bring any more darkness into her life. The shadows of their secrets probably made that impossible, so if he had to, he would take on the darker role. He knew that he would do whatever it took to get her back, especially now, no matter how dark.

For once, Sebastian wanted the villain to win the maiden fair, his chest aching at the absence of MC. They could rewrite the trope. Together. She should have been here with him tonight, beside him, where he could hold her close. Whether for her comfort or his own, he wasn't sure who needed it more.

Everything was so clean and bright that her eyes burned in their sockets, her trembling fingers shielding them from the glare of the real world. There were no screams here, no sobbing and wailing, no banging of cups against cold iron. There was just peaceful quietness, the soft sound of the breeze outside the window, and the distant chirp of a bird singing their joy. A fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with warmth that felt like an inferno compared to the cold stone of Azkaban, and yet still MC shivered.

The room she stood in was charming. A picture-perfect image of a country cottage, with an inglenook fireplace and a bowl of fruit on the table. There was a high backed armchair near the fire, similar to those found in the common room, and a settee with deep cushions. Leander had called it a safe house, and she wondered how true that was. It did look soft and warm, inviting, and yet she stood there almost recoiling from it all.

She felt out of place, fractured, like she had wandered into someone else's dreams, and she did not belong. The soft rug beneath her filthy feet was a strange sensation, her toes curling experimentally into what felt like a guilty pleasure. Eyes brimming with tears from the overwhelming emotions swarming in her chest, MC looked up at the man standing next to her, his fingers slipping from her elbow where he had held her to Apparate.

How strange to look at Leander now and be wary of his proximity, and yet she also craved for him to be close, to stand right beside her so that he could hold her up should her wobbling knees buckle. It was dangerous to be so dependent on a person. She used to pride herself on being able to stand against whatever life threw at her, but her eyes were drawn to the tall Auror who had whisked her out of captivity, fearing that he might vanish at any moment and leave her lost and alone. Feeling this fragile had her slamming her walls up out of habit, but there were no Dementors here.

She was no longer in Azkaban. She was free.

The sight of Leander at her cell door after the way he had left her had set her pulse flying, hardly daring to believe he was really there after the way he had said goodbye to her, leaving her screaming for him at her cell door. When he had placed the release parchment into her hands, she had stared at the inked words, trying to make sense of this new turnaround to events. Her cold demand to Harrington in the questioning chamber had earned her freedom, her answers enough to revoke charges and reduce her sentence. The details of the probation seemed like child’s play compared to the horror one faced within the walls of that prison, and she had signed the papers immediately, ignoring the offer of twenty four hours to think about it. What was there to think about? Why stay another day in that hell when she could be free?

Now, though, now that she was out of the dark walls of oppressive cold, she felt the urge to seek out more darkness. It was as though the light would burn her, expose her, and leave her vulnerable. Would her mental walls of protection work out here? Who were her enemies now that she had escaped the malice of the Dementors?

How at ease Leander looked in these lovely surroundings, how neat his clothes, his pretty copper hair shining in the sunlight filtering through the window. Tall, with wide shoulders and slim hips, long graceful fingers, his pale skin sprinkled with dozens of freckles. He stood with confidence, sure of his place in the world, and she envied him. Where did she fit now?

“A Healer will be along shortly to take a look at you. Make sure you are alright,” he said with a soft smile. “There are clean clothes for you in the bedroom and a bath so that you can get cleaned up. The store cupboard is stocked so you won’t go hungry. Would you like me to make you something?”

MC stared at him, her arms wrapped around her midriff as she trembled on the pretty rug, feeling like the ground had been ripped out from under her feet. In the last 24 hours she had been strapped into a chair and questioned, and then he had left her, leaving her sobbing on her cell floor thinking she would be alone in the dark again, and then the appearance of the strange woman in the hooded cloak that had made her question her sanity.

Now, she was here, with him. He had pulled her out of that darkness, bringing her to an image of domestic bliss. His calmness grated on the frayed edges of her nerves. The choking maelstrom of emotions in her chest seemed to fizz through her veins, and she clenched her hands into fists, her face contorting into fury. The smile slipped from his lips as she glared at him.

“Give me my wand,” she hissed, her eyes glowing with fire. “I don’t care about the stocked cupboard and your bath, I just want my wand.”

Leander paled, licking his lips as he moved towards her, his hands out. “Your wand isn’t here. It’s still in secure lock up at the Ministry,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, MC.”

Finally, she moved, backing up away from him. Her eyes darted to the side as she sought an exit route, the over stimulation making her mind scream for quiet darkness. “Save your apologies,” she spat, her adrenaline making her shakes become more pronounced as she skirted the settee. His hands reached out again, and she flinched away. “Don’t touch me!”

If he touched her, she would crumble, and she was barely holding up the walls of her defences as it was. It was all so surreal, so outlandish and wrong. She needed her wand. She needed security.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t touch you,” he said, holding his hands up. “But you need to calm down. You are safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you, and this house is warded so nobody can get in or out without permission.”

“So, I am just as much a prisoner here as in Azkaban?” She screeched, her eyes becoming wider, filled with desperate panic. The notion that this might be a trap entered her head, and now she couldn’t shake it, her heart hammering so fast she thought she might pass out. “I can’t do this. I need to get out.”

In her haste to escape, she bumped her leg against a side table, making the lamp there wobble precariously. She stumbled, catching herself on the arm of the settee. She pulsed with the need to flee, to run, to hide. Never would she have imagined that she would miss her cell, but right now, it was the only sanctuary she could think of, encased in the dark walls.

“Where are you going?” He asked, hurrying around the back of the settee to cut her off.

“Away from you,” she ground out, reaching to grab a cushion from the settee, the soft plushness of it a shock to her hands. The urge to squeeze it was almost like an ache, but she ignored it, heaving the cushion towards Leander’s head as she scrambled in the opposite direction to him.

Of course, he caught it, tossing it aside as he hurried after her. Her feet thudded across the wooden floor towards a door, her hands grabbing for the handle, but she was infuriatingly weak, and he caught up to her easily. To his credit, he didn’t touch her. He just slammed his hands against the door to prevent her from opening it, his body towering over hers and effectively pinning her against the wood.

“Please, don’t run from me,” he said, an edge to his voice. “I would never hurt you, MC. I meant it when I said that.”

Panting, her trembling frame pressed up against the door, she refused to look up at him. She kept her gaze fixed on her hands wrapped around the door handle. Her legs were shaking so badly she feared she would fall, her ears roared with her pulse and she felt the tell tale sting of tears behind her eyes.

“You lied,” she rasped. The walls around the cavern in her chest cracked, a whimper leaving her lips as she sagged against the door, her fingers bone white with her grip around the handle. “You left me.”

Leander’s hands slid slowly from the door, and he backed up, her eyes blinking up towards him and catching the look of devastation on his face, his soft lips parted. He shook his head in denial, his gaze one of sad regret. “You will never know how hard it was to walk away from you like that.”

MC squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear that softness, that look on his face that sent tendrils of warmth around her ribs, seeking a way in. She couldn’t let him in, not again. He had walked away, and left her feeling so hollow. Her pride was a broken thing, her head was spinning with a thousand thoughts, and there was still too much light in the room.

Sucking in a shuddering breath, she twisted the door handle and pulled the door open to reveal the well stocked food larder. The irony was not lost on her as she stared at tins of food, a basket of bread sat on a shelf, and herbs were hanging from hooks along the far wall. She huffed a laugh of disbelief at the sight, a cracked chuckle that quickly shifted into tears that scalded her cheeks as they leaked from her eyes.

“MC…”

“I don’t know how to do this,” she sobbed, bringing her hands to her face.

Gentle hands on her shoulders had her turning on the spot, the firmness of his chest pressed against her cheek as his arms enveloped her, holding her in an embrace that dissolved the rest of her defences. Her fingers curled into his waistcoat, her tears leaking into the snowy whiteness of his shirt as she breathed in his scent, something that was becoming so familiar to her.

“You won’t be doing this alone,” he assured her, his hands sliding up the length of her spine until he was cupping the back of her head. “I’m your probation Auror, remember? And I think we both know that this has become more than just a job to me, MC. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

The ancient power that slumbered in her veins meant that she didn’t really need anyone to protect her. If anything, she was more dangerous than the worst of the Ashwinders once she had a wand in her hand. But, for now, she let Leander hold her and tell her that she would be safe. He took her hand and led her to another door, opening it to reveal a bedroom beyond. He paused in the doorway and nodded for her to go in.

“I’ll let you get yourself sorted out,” he said, his hand lingering on hers before he stepped back. “I’ll be right out here if you need anything. Alright?”

Backing into the room, she stared up at him. The risks he had taken, the kindness he had shown, it was more than any other Auror would have done for her. It was true. This was more than just another assigned job for him. Again, she was reminded of how dangerous it was to become close to him. How addictive his warmth was becoming, and whilst craving just that, she was also wary of it.

As the door clicked shut, her hands and forehead pressed against it, a stifled moan of grief tried to escape her lips. She didn’t even know what she was grieving for, but she felt so empty, so heavy and yet faded, like she would drift away into nothing.

Turning, she gazed around a bedroom, just as cosy and warm as the main room. There was a double bed made up with white sheets and thick blankets, and a vase of flowers sat on the bedside table beside a stack of books. Light bathed the space through a window that looked out across fields, the gentle roll of hills in the distance. She had no idea where she was. She could be anywhere.

Gasping in her breaths, she hurried to the window and gripped the floral curtains, yanking them closed to block out the light. The room darkened, but it wasn’t enough. Tight panic gripped her chest again, and she dived for a shadowed corner beside a wardrobe, drawing up her knees and wrapping her arms tightly around her legs. Shivering and gasping, she pressed her forehead to her knees and bit back her scream, tears flooding her eyes.

Maybe she wasn’t as free as she first thought. The darkness still held her in its grip, and Leander could only do so much to hold her shadows at bay.

….*....

Stomach hollow with hunger, and her eyes tight and raw from tears, MC sat on the seat before the dressing table and stared at her reflection. The girl who stared back was a stranger. In the dim light of the room, her pale skin looked ghostly, drawn tight over the jut of her bones. Her hair was long and lifeless, but it was her eyes that chilled her the most. She recognised them as her own, but the haunted darkness that dwelled in them spoke of loneliness and loss. The girl she once knew was long gone.

She looked down at her hands, her fingers so pink and clean, the skin puckered like dried fruit from soaking in warm bath water for so long. It had taken three baths to get her clean. The first left the water so black she'd climbed out almost straight away. By the third, she had just sunk under the warmth of the rose scented water, waiting for the comforting feeling to seep into her bones, but it didn't.

After the fire of her tantrum earlier, she now felt numb. She had cried until her chest had hurt, rocking back and forth, her fingers tracing constantly over the scar on her palm. At last, her memories could flood her mind, no longer at risk from being sucked away by the Dementors kiss. Her longing to look upon Sebastian one more time was joined by the fear that he wouldn't even know her, that he had moved on with his life and she was just some girl he used to know.

There was no one else in the world to wait for her. She had no family, and she was sure her friends from Hogwarts would want nothing to do with a murderer. Sebastian was the only one who knew her truth. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture him, the boy she knew.

Sighing softly, she shook her head and looked into the mirror again. No longer a child, she was a woman, and Sebastian would be a man. No doubt he looked different now, perhaps taller and stronger, like Leander. She imagined he was just as handsome, though. Four years was a long time, and she wondered if he had found love with someone new.

Could she blame him if he had? The years stolen from them stretched out like a lifetime. Surely, he would be a different person now, just as she didn’t recognise the girl staring back at her in the looking glass.

Pushing the thought aside before she began to cry again, she stood, smoothing her hands down the front of the pale blue blouse she had chosen from the wardrobe. She couldn't deny the simple pleasure of clean clothes, although she had left the corset where she had found it and chose trousers instead of a skirt. She'd never been one for airs and graces, and she wasn't about to start now.

Moving towards the door, she pressed her ear against it, her brow furrowing slightly at the soft sound of voices coming from the main room on the other side. Slowly, she turned the handle and opened the door, peering out.

At the table sat Leander, a teapot and cups laid out before him, and in a chair adjacent to him sat a beautiful, dark-haired woman. MC’s eyes narrowed as she studied this woman, recognising her as the Auror from Leander’s memory in the pensieve. She had suggested that Leander make her talk by implying that Sebastian was in a relationship with Rookwood’s daughter.

Her mouth tightened with instant dislike. She watched as they talked together, the woman reaching out to touch her hand to Leander’s arm. His cheeks flushed pink, his gaze rather bashful as this simpering bitch fluttered her dark lashes at him. MC’s stomach coiled tightly and she swung the door open wider, stepping out into the room to reveal herself. Leander glanced up, his eyes widening as they swept over her.

“MC…wow…you look…Do you feel better?” He stuttered, getting to his feet. He reached for another cup and placed it before the empty chair on his other side. “Let me pour you some tea. Come, join us. I would like you to meet my colleague, Odessa McKinnon. She will be taking some of the watches here with you, starting with later on this evening.”

MC moved closer as Leander poured tea from the pot, slipping into the chair that Leander hurried to hold out for her whilst keeping her suspicious gaze on McKinnon. Leander tucked her chair in, his fingers grazing her shoulder as he moved to return to his own chair. Cleaner than she had been in years, and feeling slightly more human now that she was dressed in proper clothes, MC felt her spine stiffen as McKinnon gave her the once over.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, MC,” she purred, one beautifully shaped eyebrow arching slightly as she lifted her tea cup. “I have heard so much about you, all your notorious deeds and wonderful magic. I have to admit, I have been rather intrigued.”

“You’re here to watch me tonight?” MC asked, her voice flat calm. She turned the saucer holding her teacup on the table top, relieved that her fingers did not tremble as she did so, her eyes cold and blank as she stared at the smug woman. “Aren’t you concerned that I might try to kill you?”

Leander hissed air through his teeth in a gasp. McKinnon didn’t move a muscle, but there was a subtle flare in her eyes as she put down her cup. “Out of prison a mere few hours and you’re already risking being thrown back inside,” she tutted. “I didn’t take you for a fool, MC.”

“But you take me for a murderer, correct? I have previous experience in that department. The man whom I thought to be Rookwood disappeared into a cloud of ash by my hands. They would have a hard time proving I did anything to you without a body as evidence,” MC said coolly. Her eyes glittered with cold malice as she lifted her cup and took a sip, the hot liquid washing over her tongue and making it tingle, the flavour blooming inside her mouth after years of tepid water.

Leander rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, his eyes disapproving as he glanced her way, but she only smiled as she returned her cup to its saucer. McKinnon flicked an uneasy frown in Leander's direction and shifted in her chair. “You haven’t tried to hurt Prewett, so your heart can’t be that cold, love,” she said, tilting her head. “If you are trying to scare me, it won’t work. I’ve seen much nastier dark wizards than you.”

“I shall take that as a challenge, then,” MC said with a smirk. She slid her eyes towards a rather awkward looking Leander, and her gaze softened. “Besides, why would I want to hurt Leander? I rather like him. You, on the other hand...”

MC's eyes hardened again on those last words, the instant dislike she had for this Auror setting her teeth on edge. She would need to ensure that her defences were on full alert around this one, there was a gleam in her eyes that MC did not like, a smug assurance that took some of the edge off her beauty. If only she could have her wand.

McKinnon shifted in her seat again, perhaps not as smug as she was trying to portray as she leant her elbow on the table top, her hand supporting her chin. “Luckily, I enjoy a challenge, too,” she said, her eyes becoming devious slits. “Speaking of challenges. Your old flame, Sebastian Sallow, is rather handy with a wand, isn’t he? He put up quite the fight when I tracked him down in Glasgow. Quite the handsome devil, too. I can see why you liked him.”

MC stiffened, her fingers twitching to grip against the table top at the mention of Sebastian’s name. McKinnon’s smile was far too arrogant, too knowing.

“Rookwood’s daughter seems to think so as well. Quite the striking pair they make when they fight,” McKinnon continued.

Leander sighed and shook his head. “Perhaps we should keep the conversation to more relevant topics, ladies,” he suggested.

“How is Sebastian not relevant?” McKinnon asked, shifting her gaze to Leander. “He is in deep with Rookwood, and MC needs to be prepared.”

Trying to keep her temper was difficult considering the violent swing of her emotions today, but MC did her best to sit still and keep her mouth clamped tightly shut. She knew what this bitch was doing. She was trying to bait her, to wind her up and make her show her hand, and MC didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of succeeding. This is what McKinnon had suggested Leander do to her, her snide comments revealed in Leander's pensieve memory, but he hadn’t done it.

Her hands came together, her fingers touching against the scar on her palm, a reminder that Sebastian would never turn his back on her. He couldn’t. Just like she could never turn her back on him. As difficult as it was to think of him being with Rookwood’s daughter, if that is what he wanted, then what could she do? The very thought of him touching another woman made her stomach twist, sadness engulfing the dark space in her chest at the loss of what could have been, but she would never allow McKinnon the satisfaction of knowing that. No matter how harshly it scraped along her deepest fears.

“I am well aware of how Sebastian fights. We used to train together,” MC said, shrugging her shoulders as if she was not concerned. “When the time comes for me to track down the Ashwinders, I can’t see it being a problem. Like you said, I have such wonderful magic available at my fingertips, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“Now, that is a showdown I would pay good galleons to see,” McKinnon said. Her sly smirk swung towards Leander. “Perhaps the idea of sending her into the pits is a good one, after all.”

“What pits?” MC asked, glancing between them.

McKinnon chuckled and got to her feet, taking her robe from the back of her chair to put on. Leander stood too, always the gentleman, stepping forward to help her with her robe. MC watched them both, noticing the flirty gleam in McKinnon's eyes as she smiled at Leander when she thanked him.

“I'm sure Prewett will fill you in on all the details regarding the pits,” she said, pulling on a pair of black leather gloves. Her smug smile lifted her lips. “I have some errands to run, so I shall say goodbye for now. I will return for my watch duty later.”

“I can't wait,” MC muttered, rolling her eyes.

Leander walked her towards the door that led outside, MC watching through narrowed eyes as McKinnon touched her hand to his arm again.

“I will see you later,” she said, leaning in a little, her voice low and intimate. “And I shall tell Harrington that you will meet him as suggested.”

Leander nodded, that delicate blush staining his cheeks again. “Thank you, Odessa.”

Watching the exchange, MC realised she hadn't given much thought to what Leander's personal life might be like. She had only seen him as the Auror in his visits, with glimpses of the boy she remembered from their short time together at school. For the first time, she wondered what he liked, the kind of books he read, or what his favourite food was.

Did he have a lover? Watching him with McKinnon, she didn't think they were that close, but perhaps the suggestion of something more being possible lingered in their glances and smiles. The idea was oddly repulsive, and MC's mouth tightened with disapproval as she sat back in the chair and folded her arms.

Leander returned to the table and began to gather up the teacups after McKinnon had left. MC watched him, her gaze following him as he took the cups to the sink under the window.

“What are the pits?” She asked.

He turned to face her, brushing his hands together. “There is an illegal duelling club that takes place in the new London underground train tunnels. Rookwood is involved, and his Ashwinders take part in fights for money.”

Her eyebrows shot up with interest. “So, it's like a bigger, more dangerous version of Crossed Wands?”

Leander huffed a laugh and came back to the table and picked up the teapot. “Definitely more dangerous. People die down there,” he said pointedly. He held up the teapot. “Would you like some more?”

MC nodded and slid her cup forward to be refilled. “That delightful colleague of yours suggested I would be sent to these illegal duelling fights. Why is that?”

Leander bit his lip. “That hasn't been agreed upon yet. We need to do some more investigating first before we even consider sending you down there. It could be a good way to infiltrate you into the gang.”

“Does Sebastian duel there?”

Leander slowly put down the teapot and placed his hands on the back of his chair. She could see the reluctance in his eyes, but she needed to know, almost holding her breath as she waited.

“I can't say for sure that he does, but it is likely he will be there,” he said. He met her eyes. “Would you be alright with that? I don't want to place you in situations that might be difficult.”

Whilst her pulse raced, MC once again maintained a cool approach, shrugging her shoulders as she picked up her tea. “I can handle myself. I wouldn't make a very good spy for you if I couldn't. I will be fine.”

Leander pulled back his chair and sat down facing her. He placed a hand on the table top near hers but didn't touch her.

“I meant it when I said I didn't want to hurt you, and that includes placing you in dangerous situations. I know you can handle yourself, but that doesn't mean I won't be concerned. Harrington and I are going to check these duelling pits out later and see what they are like,” he said. “McKinnon will be here while I am gone, and I will tell you what I can once I return. Nothing will be finalised until I speak with you first.”

It was so very hard to maintain that cold exterior when he looked at her like that, his eyes so open and earnest, but she kept her face still as she returned his gaze. She tried to imagine him in a highly dangerous situation, tried to picture the transition from soft hearted Lee to a fighting Auror, and it wasn't easy.

Her hand shifted on the table top, her little finger brushing up against the warmth of his hand.

“Be careful while you're gone,” she said quietly. Her lips twitched ever so slightly. “Don't leave me alone with that smug bitch for too long. I'd rather not risk being sent back to Azkaban, but I won't rule out the desire to slap her irritatingly perfect face.”

He looked down to where she was touching him, and she saw his throat work as he swallowed. “I will only be there a few hours, and then I will come back. I promise. Try and get some sleep. McKinnon isn't so bad once you get to know her. We trained together.”

MC stared into his eyes, the air feeling heavy between them. “She fancies you,” she murmured and watched as a deep flush coloured his freckled cheeks.

“We are just colleagues,” he assured her, touching his fingers to his tie to straighten it. “She is naturally flirtatious. She does it with everyone, not just me.”

“Would you like it to be just you she flirts with? The way she looked at you makes me think you are in with a chance there.”

“I’m not sure if that’s entirely appropriate,” he gulped.

Leander cleared his throat, his fingers now fiddling with his tie, rearranging it and ensuring it was tucked neatly into his waistcoat. His flush now darkened his neck, and his gaze skipped away from her as he stood.

MC felt a genuine smile twitch at her lips, seeing the awkward, flustered boy from their youth as he tried to calm his fluster. She reached out and took hold of his hand, her thumb sweeping over the softness of his palm.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease you, Lee,” she said gently before letting her gaze dip to their joined hands. It was surprising how just that brief and gentle contact could bring such comfort. Reluctantly, she let him go. “Besides, your personal life is none of my business. Forgive me.”

The look that they shared lingered, the moment feeling heavy and poised in the silence of the room. MC felt the hair rise on the back of her neck, a deep ache swelling within her to feel like she belonged somewhere, the black cavern in her chest warping with a loneliness that stole her breath.

“Let me fix you something to eat,” Leander said, breaking the strange tension in the room. “You must be hungry. I could make you a sandwich?”

MC blinked, nodding quickly as she compressed the confusing ache within her, masking it with her walls of cold stone. She was hungry. Although, when Leander placed down the plate onto the table before her, she stared at the cheese sandwich and wondered how she would ever be able to swallow it over the tightness in her throat.

The first bite filled her mouth with stinging surprise, all the texture and flavour so strange against her tongue as she chewed. It had been so long since she had eaten normal food, and as she took more mouthfuls, she began to chew faster. Her stomach gnawed with ravenous hunger, and she ate the entire sandwich, her belly rumbling and squeaking at the new contents she had thrown into it. Immediately, she felt very full, her hand rubbing over her stomach carefully as she groaned.

“It’s probably best to start with small meals until your stomach gets used to eating again,” Leander said, smiling at her like a proud parent across the table. “You will be eating roast dinners before you know it.”

“Thank you,” she said, meeting his gaze, and she didn’t just mean for the sandwich.

He nodded, a knock at the door breaking the moment before it could become loaded again like before. They both turned to look towards the door, and Leander stood. “Ah, that will be the Healer,” he said. “Perfect timing.”

As Leander went to open the door and greet the Healer, MC remained at the table, her belly full and her body feeling clean from head to toes. Although the future stretched out huge and uncertain before her, for the first time since her feet landed on the perfectly swept floors of this house, she thought maybe she could do this after all.

Sebastian

Keeping a lid on his own rage was increasingly difficult as those around him spoke with raised voices, the private room at the back of The Black Rose pub filled with Rookwood’s closest henchmen. Sebastian and Rosier stood near the wall, watching as all hell broke loose, each man having his own piece to say on what they thought the Ministry was up to.

“Since when is a prisoner released without some kind of announcement in the Daily Prophet,” Carrow said, his eyes narrow and suspicious. “Especially a high profile prisoner such as this girl. It was all over the front page when she was convicted and sent to Azkaban. I don’t like it.”

Rookwood sat at the head of the table rubbing his chin slowly, his face in deep thought, his eyes shifting towards Sebastian with a dark look. “This had better not be a trick, Sallow,” he said darkly. “You didn’t get her out and hide her somewhere, did you?”

Sebastian clenched his fists, his face darkening at the suggestion. Rosier tapped his fingers against his elbow, his blue eyes flashing with a warning to be careful.

“You can take the very memory from my head if you doubt me so much,” Sebastian offered, straightening his spine. “Believe me, I’m just as pissed off as you are. We risked our necks going into that place. If anyone is up to trickery, it’s that bitch, Black Dahlia.”

Rookwood hummed thoughtfully, his gaze sliding back to Carrow. “Any word from our little whisperer?”

“Not a thing,” Carrow said, his mouth tight.

Sebastian’s top lip curled with his disgust and fury. There was no love lost when it came to Black Dahlia where he was concerned, but his patience was wearing dangerously thin, his hand lingering near his wand in its holster. He folded his arms and leant against the wall, chewing at his lower lip in frustration, his head drifting into a darker place as he considered painful ways of making her talk.

At the table beside Rookwood sat his daughter, Luella, her blonde curls held up in a twist, loose strands breaking free to hang around her face. She was sitting quietly, taking in the words spoken by those around her, but her gaze kept drifting over towards Sebastian. Her blue eyes were lit with a familiar gleam as they passed over him, lingering on his mouth and wandering downwards over his body with a hunger that had once stirred him.

She had arrived yesterday, curious and eager to meet the escaped prisoner, but had walked into the angry fallout of MC being missing. Last night, Sebastian had dodged her questions, soaking his innards in shots of whiskey to try and drown out the deep ache in his chest. When her hands had wandered, her lips soft against his ear, he had been tempted, but eventually spurned her advances outside his bedroom door. His bleary gaze had wandered over her hair, her eyes, the shape of her mouth, and it was all wrong. She wasn’t MC.

Here, in the meeting room, he was careful to avoid holding her gaze for too long. He needed to keep his distance from her, his main focus now being the seeking out of Leander Prewett and tracking down MC.

He had managed to corner Larson this morning, coercing him into a side alley near Gringotts Bank, and he’d asked him about Prewett. Larson hadn’t changed much since school, but he had surprised Sebastian with a steely determination not to be pushed around. Sebastian had changed tactics swiftly, using his silver tongue to suggest that he just wanted to talk to Prewett, that he had information that could prove useful. He had sent the blonde Ravenclaw off with assurances that his message would be passed on.

Rookwood stood up, adjusting his long gentleman’s coat, his eyes softening briefly as he glanced Luella’s way. He cast his eyes around the room, his eyes lit with a devilish gleam. “Let’s not fret, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll get to the truth of it in due course,” he said, his gaze landing on Sebastian. “Sallow is already chasing a lead within the Ministry, and once Black Dahlia shows her face, her lips had better start moving. For now, let us enjoy some entertainment. There are fights to bet on in the pits, and whores to slake our lusts. I say we adjourn to the tunnels and start the night early.”

A rousing murmur of agreement went up around the room, and Rosier grinned beside Sebastian. “I’m up for that,” he said, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and tucking one between his lips. He held the packet out to Sebastian, but he waved him off. “Are you coming, Sallow?”

Sebastian turned his gaze from Luella and considered Rosier’s question, his fingers caressing along the handle of his wand. “Actually, I could do with a damned good scrap,” he said thoughtfully, the burn of his frustration like an itch in his veins. “A few fast duels ought to satiate the hunger.”

“Or you could put Lulu out of her misery,” Rosier smirked, shaking his head. “Honestly, the eye fucking is becoming too obvious. I’m surprised Daddy Rookwood hasn’t picked up on it yet.”

Sebastian huffed and began to walk towards the door, following the others as they filed out of the room. Rosier joined him, and Sebastian leaned in to speak quietly. “I’m done with all that,” he muttered. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about. If you want to hit her up, go for it. Maybe she will leave me alone once you’ve got your hands on her.”

Rosier looked doubtful. “Lulu has always been picky with her men. She’s only got eyes for you, mate. But, you know me, I’ll give any ride a go.”

Sebastian’s mouth spread into a grin as he looked towards his friend, slinging an arm about his shoulders as they entered the bar of The Black Rose. “I do know you,” he said, ruffling Rosier’s dark, blonde hair. “And I appreciate your enthusiasm for life. Come on, let’s get down into those pits and inflict some damage. My wand is thirsty for some action.”

Leander

Despite it being the evening, the Auror office was just as busy, some at their desks whilst others were having meetings or gathering files for cases. Leander made his way through the desk cubicles, heading for his own to check if the file containing the gathered evidence for the duelling pits was there. He always liked to refresh his thoughts on the most recent information before heading out for field work. Knowledge was power, and going down into those tunnels was risky enough without knowing plenty of details.

His desk was as neat as he had left it, his files stored in a perfect pile in his tray. He flicked through them quickly, frowning slightly as he couldn’t find the one he was looking for. He glanced over at the untidy chaos of McKinnon’s desk and sighed, moving over to begin checking her scattered folders, but it wasn’t there either. Harrington’s desk turned up nothing, and so he headed towards the researcher's room in the hope it was there rather than being back in the archives.

The team of researchers that worked for the British Auror Office were methodical fact checkers, gathering and storing any evidence attained by Aurors and ensuring it was all filed correctly. They were also rather good at picking out patterns in evidence, and they were often an invaluable asset in solving cases. If Leander hadn’t managed to pass the tough Auror program, he had thought to become a researcher as a backup career. It was the pursuit of justice without the field work and fighting, all from the comfort of a desk inside the sanctuary of the Ministry.

As Leander walked down the hall towards the research offices, his head was filled with thoughts of MC. The knowledge that she was safely tucked away in the safe house, warm and comfortable, made some of the tension ease from his shoulders. Seeing her out of that dark and cold prison had brought a lump to his throat, especially when she had stepped out of the bedroom dressed in clean clothes, her hair soft about her face, her skin still slightly pink from her bath. He had been glad that McKinnon had been there to stop him from immediately going to her, his fingers aching to brush against the lines of her cheek, the pull of her stronger than ever despite his effort to hold back.

This case was so big, and she was a key part of it, he could not afford to mess this up. He had to be so careful, but one look at her big, haunted eyes was enough to make that soft part of himself that he hid so carefully behind his ribs, swell to a chest tightening bloom. It was a lesson in restraint to keep his hands to himself, to keep his thoughts on the job and not constantly on her. When she had brushed her finger up against his hand earlier, her lips uttering a soft plea for him to be careful whilst he was gone, it had taken all of his strength to behave like a gentleman.

Entering the research office, he cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, striding past the girl on the reception desk with a polite nod as he made his way towards Larson’s desk. If anyone ought to know where the file was, it would be him. Andrew was indeed at his desk despite the later hour, his head bent over a thick stack of parchment, his fingers pushed into the soft wave of his blonde hair as he supported himself on the desk.

“Good evening, Andrew,” he said, coming to a stop beside him. “That’s quite the stack of bedtime reading you have there.”

Andrew looked up, blinking slowly as he separated his thoughts from his reading material, his lips curving into a smile. “Good evening, Lee. How are you?”

Andrew turned in his chair, pushing the parchment away from him to give Leander his full attention. His facial features had clung to the softness he’d had as a boy, the gentleness still there in his brown eyes, combined with a bright intelligence that Leander had always appreciated. He had known Andrew for a long time and took pleasure in working with him here at the Ministry. He felt privileged to call him a friend.

“I’m well, thank you,” Leander said with a nod. “I was hoping you would still be here. I’m looking for the file on the underground duelling pit in London. I wanted to read up a bit before going down there to have a scout around.”

Andrew’s brow furrowed slightly. “You’re going down there? Has there been a new development on the Rookwood case?”

Leander gave a rueful twist of his lips. “You could say that, yes, although I am not at liberty to say much yet. You wouldn’t happen to know where it is, would you?”

Andrew bit his lip and glanced towards his pile of files on his desk, reaching across to pull one out and hold it up. “Actually, I have it right here,” he said, giving Leander a hesitant look. “I er…I swiped it from your desk earlier today while you were out. I wanted to read up on it myself.”

“Oh? Any particular reason?”

“Yes. Our old school buddy, Sebastian Sallow,” Andrew said with a sigh. He looked up at Leander, a worried gleam in his eyes. “Would you say that was a good reason?”

Leander frowned and reached for a nearby chair, dragging it closer so he could sit. “That depends. What makes you interested in Sallow all of a sudden?”

“He cornered me this morning in Diagon Alley,” Andrew said, rubbing his hand across his mouth, a slight blush staining his cheeks. Leander’s eyes bulged, his lips parting in surprise. “I won’t lie to you, Lee. I wondered what the bloody hell he was going to do. He had his wand out, and I was never all that great at the hand to hand spell casting. That was always your thing, and Sallow is like a coiled serpent with a wand in his hand.”

“What did he want?”

Andrew winced, his eyes becoming grave. “He wants you, mate. He was demanding to know where he could find you. He said he had information that might prove useful to you. I didn’t tell him anything, only that I would pass on the message.”

Leander swore under his breath and put his hands to his face, closing his eyes as old insecurities began to bubble up inside of him. He was twelve years old again, and Sallow was casting Glacius under his feet to make him slip on the stairs, his twin giggling behind him as she clung on to Gaunt’s arm.

It had always been silly pranks, and Leander had gotten his own back a few times with some help from Garreth, but Sebastian always liked to have the upper hand. He always had to be smarter, faster, his cocky smirk plastered over his handsome face. And now he was looking for him. It could only be about one thing. It had to be something to do with MC. Leander blew air through his lips and gripped his thighs, shaking his head. He wasn’t a scrawny twelve year old anymore. He was a graduated Auror, and he could hold his own.

“What else did he say?” Leander asked, licking his lips.

“He said you might catch him in the Black Rose,” Andrew said, frowning slightly. “That is a nefarious pub, make no mistake. I wouldn’t go in there unprepared, Lee.”

Leander nodded and pinched his lips thoughtfully. “He was spotted there recently by another Auror, so it’s no surprise to hear that’s where to find him. Leave it with me, Andrew. I’ll see if I can’t track him down and find out what he wants.”

“Just be careful, alright?” Andrew said, his expression grim. “It can’t be anything good.”

Leander nodded, a tight-lipped smile on his lips as he moved to stand. He touched a hand to Andrew’s shoulder as he said goodbye, leaving the office with the file in hand, fairly certain that he knew exactly what Sebastian wanted, but he wasn’t about to give it to him.

For all Sebastian knew, she was tucked away inside Azkaban, far out of his reach. That’s the way it needed to stay until she was strong enough to step out into the world again and take on the likes of the Ashwinders. If Sebastian was hoping to get information out of him in order to aid a prison break, then he was very much mistaken.

….*....

Leander met Harrington in Monument Street, London, the area reasonably quiet after the setting of the sun. The gas lamps had been lit, casting an eerie glow through the beginnings of a lingering mist that left a damp feeling on one’s clothing. The distant sound of carriages on the main road heading towards London Bridge could be heard as he walked alongside Harrington, past the colossal tower of a monument dedicated to all that was lost in the Great Fire of London in the 1600s, giving the road its name.

“The file said the entrance to the duelling pit was down in the underground tunnel just along from the platform,” Leander said, pulling his collar up a little higher against the chill on the back of his neck. Autumn was beginning to sink its teeth into the weather. “Hopefully the station will be quiet at this time of the evening.”

“Magical folk have been vanishing into the underbelly of London long before the Muggles started sending their fancy new trains down there,” Harrington said. “London has many secrets, and some of the chambers underneath her are ancient. We won’t have any trouble accessing the tunnels. It will be further along that we will have to be more careful. My snitch said there are enchantments in place to avoid the duelling pits being discovered.”

“Nothing a cheeky Revelio won’t show us, I’m sure,” Leander said with a small smile.

They turned into King William Street and headed for the entrance to the Metropolitan Underground railway station of the same name, slipping through the doors in a swirl of mist and began to descend the spiralling iron stairwell into the depths.

“How is our new house guest faring?” Harrington asked as they reached the bottom, the air musty and damp, the only light coming from flickering lamps spaced out along the tiny platform.

“She is looking a lot better after a bath and something to eat, and the Healer said she was physically well despite everything. She has a box full of potions and elixirs to take to build her back to strength,” Leander said, scanning the station’s platform to find it empty. A crease appeared between his brows as he thought of MC. “I’m not so sure about her mental state. That might take a bit more work.”

“All we need her to do is give us enough to bring Rookwood to his knees,” Harrington said, his face grim. “We need to lure the spider out of his cave, and then we can shred his little web of criminals. That’s the main goal here.”

Leander bit his lip against the thoughts sliding across his mind. Harrington wasn’t wrong. That was the goal, but MC deserved more than that. At least, he thought so.

They jumped down off the platform onto the tracks below, the circular maw of the tunnel's mouth gaping before them. A stale breeze was coming from it, the tracks disappearing off into the blackness as though leading them down into the hells. Harrington slipped out his wand and stepped into the tunnel, his Lumos spell guiding their way until they came to the hidden door in the brick wall, marked by runes.

“Be on your guard, Prewett,” Harrington muttered. “We could end up running into anyone down here.”

An iron ladder led them down into a tunnel that had a swift running stream bubbling along the bottom of it, a stone pathway following the gushing water into further darkness. They walked for some time, listening for the sound of boot steps, Harrington casting Revelio at intervals until they came across a charmed barrier invisible to the naked eye. Leander tugged at his collar, feeling the oppressive weight of an entire city above his head as Harrington cleared the barrier, and they continued on.

Eventually, they began to hear the distorted echo of raised voices coming along the tunnel, the anticipation building in Leander’s chest as they drew nearer. Keeping to the shadows, they moved towards the light, the flicker and flash of spells reflecting off the walls in shades of red and white.

Leander wasn't sure what he had been expecting of the pit, the name itself bringing forth images of dark, filthy holes with those duelling battling it out amongst a rabble of a crowd. The crowd part was mostly true. However, they were spaced around an arena that made Leander think of Roman gladiator fighting rings. The staggered levels of the spectators gave them an excellent view into an oval shaped arena with a stone floor covered in wood shavings.

The chamber itself was not dark, nor filthy, the curved arches in the ceiling giving it a classical building feel, the stone work almost attractive, and around the walls were fire sconces that lit up the space with a golden glow. As for the gathered crowd, there was a mixed bunch of witches and wizards, from the poor to the rich. A careful glance around the space revealed that these duels attracted a variety of people, and a lot of them, too.

The place was heaving, the air thick with excitement and the smokey scent of spell casting, the chill of the tunnels exchanged for the warmth of many bodies in close proximity.

“Merlin’s beard, look at this lot,” Harrington said, his eyes casting an experienced eye over the crowd. His gaze narrowed as he looked in the direction of what could only be described as a spectators box. “Well, well, who do we have here?”

There in the box sat Marvolo Gaunt, Amos Carrow, Luella Rookwood, and what looked suspiciously like one of the Minister of Magic’s official aides. No wonder these pits were allowed to continue if they had high up Ministry workers in their audience.

“No sign of Rookwood,” Leander muttered near Harrington’s ear. “What about Sallow? I can't see him either.”

“Try looking lower down in the gutter where he belongs,” Harrington sneered.

Leander looked downwards into the fighting arena itself, and his eyes widened. There he was. Sebastian Sallow. The sleeves were rolled up on his black shirt, the collar open, his freckled skin glistening with sweat, and his wild mop of hair damp at his temples. Flushed and breathing hard, he was duelling against a bare chested man with a skinhead, his face set with intense concentration.

Andrew had compared him to a coiled serpent when he held a wand, and Leander could see that Sebastian still held a masterful prowess when it came to fighting. He moved with lithe skill, the barest flick of his wrist wielding quick spell work that his opponent could barely keep up with. He was no longer a scrawny teenager, his body more thickset, the muscle in his forearm defined. He looked strong, his neck solid and his chest broad, and yet he moved with the sharpness and cunning of a fox.

The bald man was flagging, and Sebastian showed no mercy as he backed him up against the wooden railing at the edge of the fight floor, the crowd leaning forward to jeer and shout. Sebastian wielded with a flourish, the Diffindo cutting through the other man's flesh with horrifying precision, the scarlet of his blood seeping from his wounds at a frightening pace. The crowd gasped and then cheered as he collapsed to the floor, a duelling referee stepping into the oval to lift Sebastian’s arm into the air as the victor.

“Savages, the lot of them,” Harrington hissed, his gaze narrowed in disgust. “It's a shame we don't have any backup. We could raid this circus and nab ourselves a pretty collection of scumbags here.”

Looking at the way the crowd was baying for blood, the punters getting their bet winnings as Carrow and Gaunt looked on with smug looks on their cold faces, Leander felt his stomach twist. The thought of bringing MC here made him feel nauseated, the danger and savageness making him think that this was not the best way forward. He wished he could keep her inside the safe house forever, no matter how unrealistic that sounded.

“Come on, I've seen enough,” Harrington said, nudging Leander’s arm. “Let's get out of here before we are spotted.”

Leander hesitated, watching as Luella Rookwood smiled down at Sebastian, clapping her hands. The way she looked at Sallow certainly gave some credence to McKinnon’s suggestion that there was something between the two. Clenching his hands into fists, Leander dragged his eyes away and began to make his way back through the crowd, heading for the tunnel they entered through.

A shout went up to his left, and then a bloom of purple sparks erupted into the air above their heads. There was a millisecond of utter silence before utter chaos erupted in the chamber. The crowd surged as people made a run for the tunnels, some falling and becoming trampled underfoot, the snap and whirl of Apparition coming from all sides as those who were able to make a quick exit.

Leander had his wand in hand, stumbling and shoving with the tide of people as he tried to work out what was happening. Harrington was lost in the chaos, and Leander swallowed down the flutter of panic that erupted in his chest, and he pulled on his Auror training. Maintaining a manner of calm, he fought his way through to the edge of the chamber, keeping a wary eye on everyone.

A glance to the spectator box revealed it to be empty, Carrow and Gaunt making a swift exit. He spotted Luella hurrying down the steps towards the pit floor, her mouth shouting something that looked suspiciously like Sebastian’s name, but he couldn't be sure over the noise and chaos. He needed to find Harrington and get out of here.

Pushing back through the crowd, he looked for signs of his partner, having to block spells that were being cast across the heads of people as scrapping began to break out. Leander fired off a few spells of his own, diving behind a stack of storage crates at the entrance of a rather large tunnel to avoid a blasting curse.

As the crowd thinned, Leander moved back towards the chamber, scanning the space for Harrington. The scrape of boots on stone behind him made him spin about, his wand held out ready, his heart leaping madly as his gaze met with a pair of blazing, brown eyes.

Sebastian stood a fair few paces before him, his wand held up towards Leander, a gleam in his gaze that could almost be described as feral satisfaction. Sebastian took a slow step to the right, and Leander counter stepped, keeping his wand arm aimed, steady, and true.

Despite the heightened danger of the situation, Leander felt as though they could be sixteen again, preparing to face off in a round of Crossed Wands. Time slipped into insignificance as he stared Sebastian down. Sixteen or twenty-one, it would appear they were fated to always be rivals.

“I should have known to find you here, Sallow,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady despite the mad rush of his pulse. “It's all a little predictable, though, isn't it? Another unsanctioned duelling club. I thought you might have outgrown all that by now.”

Sebastian smirked, his feet creeping closer. Leander maintained a decent distance, his eyes quick and wary as they manoeuvred in the entrance of the tunnel.

“You're not so unpredictable yourself, Prewett. Here you are, coming to wreck all the fun with rules and self-righteousness,” Sebastian said, shaking his head slowly. “I guess some things just don't change.”

A flick of his wrist and a quick cast hit the stone in front of Leander’s boot. The slightest flinch flickered across his face, but he didn't move. Sebastian’s eyebrows went up a notch.

“How about it, Prewett? Do you fancy a round for old times' sake?”

“It will only end with your wrists in chains and a cell, Sallow,” Leander said, his face hardening. “I hear Azkaban is rather cruel this time of year. I guess you will fit right in.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened. “You would know,” he hissed, striking hard and fast.

Leander threw up a Protego shield and cast back, both of them assuming duelling stances and falling into a furious back and forth of spells. Sebastian was fierce despite having only just fought in the ring, but Leander was no longer a schoolboy either, his body fit and strong from gruelling training and hours of practice. He gave it everything and even began to push Sebastian further back into the tunnel, shadows darkening their movements and making the spells light up their faces with an eerie glow.

Sebastian’s comment toyed at the back of Leander’s thoughts as they fired spells into the dark. What did he mean? Blocking another swift curse, he used one of Sebastian’s old tricks against him and cast Glacius across the floor. Sebastian’s boots slid on the ice, and he swore viciously as he slammed into the tunnel wall, his wand clattering to the ground.

Leander was on him instantly, grabbing the front of his shirt, breathing hard as he shoved him against the wall. “I hear you've been looking for me, Sallow. What could you possibly have to say that I would find interesting?”

Sebastian growled and tried to shove back, kicking out with his legs in frustration. They struggled, Sebastian swinging a fist towards his face and catching him hard above his eye. Leander grunted at the impact, blinking in shock as his mind spun, but he shook it off and managed to grab Sebastian's wrist and slam him back against the wall. He pinned his arm up to block any more swings, his other hand fisting into his shirt.

As Sebastian’s hand splayed open at the impact against the brick, Leander caught sight of a long, thin red scar slashed across his palm, a complete match to the one MC had across hers. Leander stared at it, his cheeks draining of colour as he remembered the blood pact between her and Sallow.

Sebastian’s head twisted, looking to see what Leander was staring at, his gaze narrowing as he studied Leander's face carefully.

“What's got you all spooked?” He asked and wiggled the fingers on his left hand, his breath panting through his lips. “It's only a scar.”

Leander met his eyes, his grip tightening on the infuriating man against the wall. “I know exactly what it is,” he hissed.

Sebastian’s smugness faltered fleetingly, his throat working as he swallowed. A cold, determined look entered his gaze, and his voice came through gritted teeth.

“Where is she, Prewett?”

Leander stilled, his eyes locked in a battle of wills with his old rival, a dull throb beginning around his eye where Sebastian had punched him. “Who?”

“Don't fuck with me,” Sebastian said, trying to jerk his arms free, but Leander pushed harder against him. “You know who I'm talking about. Where is she?”

The first cold trickle of fear slid down Leander’s spine at the demand, the suggestion that Sebastian knew she had been released. Leander stuck to the lie. “She is in Azkaban. You know that.”

Sebastian huffed a cold, humourless laugh. “You and I both know that's not true, Prewett. Naughty boy, you shouldn't tell lies. MC is not in her cell, and I want to know where she is. You can't keep her from me, not for long.”

Leander wanted to rip the smugness from Sebastian’s face, his own fear and bitterness making his blood run cold. How could Sebastian know that MC wasn't in her cell? How was that even possible? His eyes flicked up towards the scar on Sebastian’s palm as he wondered if somehow the pact could tell him. But then, that would mean he could locate her if she moved. So, no, that wasn't it. His mind raced, the obvious possibility being one he didn't want to admit, the very idea threatening the honour of the British Auror Office.

Sebastian’s grin was slow and knowing. “You thought you were being so clever, didn't you? You thought you could sneak her out, and nobody would know. What's the plan, Prewett? Are you hoping to keep her all for yourself?”

Leander felt his cheeks burn with a flush, and he could no longer bear the close proximity of him. He let Sebastian go and stepped back, swiping his hand across his face as he swallowed hard.

“I'm not sure what it is you think you know, but you're wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm not sneaking anyone anywhere.”

“Liar!” Sebastian hissed, his fists slamming against his thighs, his eyes wild. “You took her out of there, I know you did! Tell me where she is! You might as well, because if not today, I will find out, and I will come for her. She's mine, Prewett.”

“You think your stupid blood pact makes her yours?” He scoffed, gesturing towards his left hand. “MC has her own mind, Sallow. She might not be able to betray you, but that doesn't mean you own her. She can choose to go and be with whoever she wants.”

Sebastian’s face hardened. “Is that right?”

“Yes it is,” he said, nodding. “MC will always have a choice.”

“I suppose you have hopes that she will choose you,” Sebastian said, his eyes narrowing. “Her prince in shining armour who rescued her from the tower.”

He knew. Sebastian knew MC was out. But how?

Footsteps echoed in the tunnel, and they both turned to see Harrington approaching with his wand held up. He fixed his stern eyes on Sebastian, a slow smile appearing on his mouth.

“Look who we have here,” he said. “Mr Sallow. Oh, I've been looking forward to seeing you again.”

Sebastian threw another glance towards Leander, his eyes determined. “I won't give up.”

“Don't you dare…” Harrington snarled, a spell bursting from his wand. But, he was too late.

Sebastian made a dive for his wand and disappeared with a sharp crack, a swirl of black giving way to nothing as Harrington’s spell hit the wall with a flare of white light.

Leander hung his head, his fingers gripping tightly to his wand as his mind raced, the adrenaline from the fight draining from him. Harrington came up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don't worry, lad,” he said. “We'll get him.”

Leander lifted his head to look at Harrington, his heart sinking at what he had to say. The thought of it filling him with such disappointment even though such a thing wasn't unheard of.

“He knew, Harrington,” he said softly. “He knew MC was out of Azkaban and that I was the one who took her. I think…I think we might have a snitch on the team.”

Harrington glanced towards where Sebastian had been standing only seconds ago, his mouth tightening with fury. “Shit,” he muttered, turning away. His voice lifted into a yell that echoed down the tunnel. “Shit!”

This could compromise the whole operation. It could alert Rookwood to the idea that MC was siding with Aurors, and Leander felt the bitter sting of frustration in his bones.

Harrington rubbed his chin in thought, his gaze catching on Leander’s face. “Bloody hell, that's going to give you a shiner come tomorrow,” he said, stepping closer. “You could do with seeing a Healer.”

Leander touched his fingers carefully to his eyebrow, the dull throb making him wince as he felt warm, sticky blood from the split skin there. “I will live,” he sighed.

“Get yourself cleaned up, and then we need to check on McKinnon,” Harrington said. “If there is a snitch, then the safe house could be compromised.”

Leander's stomach plummeted. He'd left MC there after promising he wouldn't let anything happen to her. “I'll go,” he said firmly. “I'll go right now.”

“You need to see a Healer,” Harrington repeated, pointing at his head.

“I'm fine,” Leander insisted. “Besides, MC is my responsibility. It should be me that goes.”

Harrington gave him a long look and then sighed. “Your soft heart is going to get you in trouble one of these days, lad. Fine. Go to the safe house, but don't take any chances. Pack a bag and get MC out of there. Take her somewhere nobody else would even think of looking, and send me a coded owl once you're safe. Understand?”

Leander nodded, his adrenaline beginning to kick in again. “What are you going to do?”

Harrington gave him a meaningful look. “I'm going to turn Seeker and hunt out this bloody snitch.”

Leander nodded, gripping tightly to his wand as he pictured the safe house in his mind, and Disapparated out of the dark tunnel.

To be continued...

Huge thanks, as always, to @eternalremorse and @slytherin-paramour for their support with this fic 💜

Odessa McKinnon is an OC used with the kind permission of @ellivenollivander

Taglist: @evaslytherpuff @writing-intheundercroft @marketfreshfics @loving-him-was-red13

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #leander prewett x mc #leander prewett #hogwarts legacy #blueraineshadows #blood bound

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