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sunnami · 3 months

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❝time will tell.❞

[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]

summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞

pairing/s. poly!mauraders x reader. (james potter x reader, sirius black x reader, lily evans x reader, and remus lupin x reader.)

word count. 9.5k.

tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf

note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one

HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society.

At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black.

Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.

Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun.

Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways.

But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun.

Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused.

You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.”

Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt.

“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?”

“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”

You reach over to smack his head, scowling.

“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?”

You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?”

“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.”

“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.”

Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)

“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—”

Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society.

“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly.

Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.”

You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?”

The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it.

That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.

“That slimy bitch!”

Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity.

The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give.

You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress.

You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry.

You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight.

But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat.

You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period.

When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then—

“That’s Sirius.”

You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.

Sirius Black.

“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit.

“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.”

Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”

You gasp. “That’s horrible!”

Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.”

You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either.

After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”

“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.)

“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”

A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.”

Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.”

You grimace. “Which cousin?”

He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”

This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.”

“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.”

“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.”

When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.”

You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.”

“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice.

You nod.

Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”

Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.”

The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.

You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe.

You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.

They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.”

Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you.

You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.”

When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?”

Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.”

“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.”

“Oh, Harry. . .”

It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?”

You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath.

“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”

“It’s—”

“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”

“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly.

“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?”

“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.”

“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?”

You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”

“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes.

Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.”

Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be.

“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”

Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.”

“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space.

A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered.

Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved.

Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease.

(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open.

“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”

“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)

But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision.

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.”

“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears.

“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!”

James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.”

Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.”

With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked.

Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?”

You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations.

“It was fine,” You say in a daze.

Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?”

Were you?

You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend!

There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize.

Then, you find it.

Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face.

It’s a space on that wall just for you.

James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.”

“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much.

James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”

“James, I can’t do this.”

That’s all you say before you run out of the door.

(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.)

You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe.

James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”

You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.”

“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.”

You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well.

James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.”

“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes.

He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.”

“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”

He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!”

You don’t look back.

(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.”

Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair.

“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.”

James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”

“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.

You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you.

Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?”

Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”

“Got anymore stories?” He asks.

You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!”

Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?”

“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.”

Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater.

Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra.

You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.”

“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more.

“Certain,” You respond, yawning.

As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones.

“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!”

Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out.

“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came.

“I know,” You say defeatedly.

“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.”

“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.”

Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?”

“I don’t know,” You say honestly.

Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.

“What?”

“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”

(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora.

You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—”

“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”

Oh, Harry knows.

And Hermione knows it all too well.

“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”

At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.”

You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.”

Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”

Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home.

You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order.

“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips.

Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.”

“I’m always right.” You pout.

Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”

“Without a doubt.”

You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.

“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.”

As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back.

How lucky you are.

“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen.

“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly.

You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.”

Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!”

Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”

You grin. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.”

“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.”

Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor

“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway.

Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:

“We’re all getting married!”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.”

You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.”

Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will.

“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.

You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!”

Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.”

You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?”

Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.”

“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.”

Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.”

“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.”

Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?”

“His hair?” James exclaims in horror.

Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”

“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.”

“I’m telling Euphemia on you!”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll.

Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”

“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.”

You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”

“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them.

(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.”

“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?”

“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”

You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.”

James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.”

You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)

Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness.

Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters.

The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement.

Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue.

“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead.

“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.”

“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?”

When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast.

“Avada Kedavra!”

You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor.

“No!”

You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice.

“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh.

“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?”

“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”

“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need.

“Expulso!”

Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down.

“Accio wand!”

The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense.

“Peter?” You call out.

“Crucio!”

The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt.

“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!”

It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.

“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.”

“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.”

You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat.

“Defodio!”

You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground.

That just leaves one more problem.

Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.”

Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.

“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.”

Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.”

“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.”

“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die, s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.”

Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow.

Oh.

Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work.

You just wanted to rest now.

The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words.

“Avada Kedavra.”

(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms.

You’ll feel my blood on your skin.

You’re a dead man.

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.”

“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely.

Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?”

Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?”

Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?”

Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.”

Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.

Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?”

“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors.

James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!”

“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.”

James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.)

ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus.

He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains.

You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.)

Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”

He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by.

“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”

And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for.

end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!

#hp angst #hp fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #marauders angst #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader #sunny's hp fics

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thewinchestah · 3 months

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"PREY" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: One-Shot, 18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, begging, overstimulation, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, degradation kink, praise kink,

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: i lost count. it's big.

| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A/N: Helloooooo!!! I write a lot but i never publish it! My lovely friend and also biggest inspiration for this fic @smallershorteranduncut ordered me to post this and i'm nothing but her loyal servent! I hope you guys enjoy the fruits of me writing 10 google docs pages today while i was enraged. Also english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here yadayayfayada! enjoy <;3 (UPDATE!) Part 2 is now up!

Everything about the Radio Demon seemed to be designed to make you desire him, want him. Many times in ways you weren’t even ready to admit to yourself. You haven’t been in Hell long, that’s true. But ever since you manifested here you felt like someone had picked your brain open to make Alastor the perfect bait to lure you into even more sinful, sinister paths.

He had an inexplicable magnetism around him, a piercing presence that made your eyes stuck on him when he worked a room. He had you bewitched and you hadn’t share more than polite pleasantries with each other since you became a guest at the hotel.

Today, again, you were transfixed in his gaze. Sitting in the corner of the hotel lobby, trying to make your embarrassing attraction to him go unnoticed while Alastor waltzed across the room explaining more of his wicked plans to Charlie. God, how you wish he had his wicked way with you.

He seemed more… on edge today. His red eyes glowed a little brighter, his nostrils flared a bit more, static filling the room more often, he was smiling with almost barred teeth, and everyone seemed to be avoiding him. Even Charlie was trying to politely dismiss him, the general feeling of uneasiness inside the hotel just growing larger when Angel stationed himself near your little corner of the room.

“Don’t go near that creepy motherfucker today, he’s about to lose it.” Angel alerted, almost whispering, a pair of his hands making the “crazy sign” near his head

“Isn’t he always creepy and about to lose it?” Husk added, staring at the exchange between the radio demon and Charlie.

“I’m telling you toots, I know that guy definitely isn't normal, but today he is borderline a mass extinction event. I swear, he’s just waiting for someone to give him the excuse” Angel replied, confirming your suspicions. Something was off.

“Uh. Well, about that, I think it’s time we rescue Charlie”

As if on cue Charlie turned to the corner of the room, gesticulating really hard to be taken away from the small commotion her conversation with Alastor was becoming.

“Hey Charlie, do you remember that thing with the hotel’s… personalized stationery you asked me to help you today? Let’s do it!” Said angel gently guiding Charlie away from the Radio Demon.

“Guess that’s my cue Alastor! Greaaaaat chat! As always! Have a nice day!! Byeee!” Charlie’s overly chirpy tone giving away her uneasiness.

Suddenly it felt like all the air was taken out of the room. Alastor’s neck turned into an ungodly angle, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Static grew around the group, almost suffocating. As your vision went blurry from the sheer power that was being evoked, you contemplated if there was another afterlife. Preferably one where you didn’t inherit a death wish from your previous ones.

And as quick as it started, it was over.

Alastor just said a creepy “hm” turned on his hell, and walked away.

It almost felt like it was all in your head, but your friends standing perfectly still and dead silent next to you gave the reality of the situation away: everyone just had a near death-death experience. Maybe it would be a good topic for Charlie’s bonding exercises, who knows with this place.

“I told ya’ll. Mass. Extinction. Event. Stay out the psycho’s way”

Angel’s voice became background noise in your head, your eyes focusing on the spot where Alastor just threatened everybody’s life without saying a word. As the voices dissipated around you and normalcy slowly returned to the hotel, your mind sank deeper and deeper into the mystery that was the Radio Demon.

They were so oblivious, so naive. Thinking he wasn’t listening what they said about him behind his back. Thinking he was unaware of him being the topic of the discussion when he wasn’t looking. He could bathe in the smell of their fear, and he was relishing it.

Alastor stared at the new pretty little thing that arrived at the hotel. Oh how pathetically sweet and innocent she was, thinking she was being subtle about her infatuation with him. Thinking she could hide her interest in him, when she was nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes. Oh, she was just the perfect prey for him, wrapped in this lovely red bow she wore on her hair.

Angel was right, he was just waiting for an excuse, and she just offered him one on a silver platter. And alastor was everything but a coward.

You cursed a little bit louder than you intended when you saw the blood dripping from your finger. “Stop. making. a. spectacle. of. yourself” you mentally screamed. You still could not figure Charlie’s “special stationary stapler” out, so stapling your finger was bound to happen.

Even though it was not much, the silly little cut was stinging like a bitch, and your best efforts to stop the bleeding were futile, considering the mess on the hem of your skirt. Still high on the adrenaline from earlier, your shaking hands searched for something, anything to put on your finger so you could continue your work without anyone noticing. Everyone already had enough for one day, it was fine.

“My dear, did you just hurt yourself?” Alastor’s voice invaded your ears. Oh, fuck. That’s it, he was going to murder you for being so incompetent with the damned stapler.

Turning to face him, you meet his piercing gaze, not sure if you should run and scream for help. “Oh no worries alastor, it’s just a small cut, i can manage!” you give him your most confident smile.

Alastor’s head tilts, eyes burning red as he watches the small droplets of your blood make their way down your index finger.

“Nonsense, I can't have my staff running around with injuries and bloodied clothes. We are in hell, but we are not savages, dear” He seems transfixed by the blood, and you are too scared to move, too scared to anything other than hold the weight of his gaze and hope for the best. Your lizard brain is screaming for you to run, ask for help. Maybe Charlie isn’t too far away, could you make a run for it? Somehow your survival instincts override your brain, maybe all those hours watching true crime back on earth weren’t in vain, and you decide against running. Let him initiate first.

He catches your wrist, trapping it inside his deadly claws. His face, towering over you, comes all the way down to inspect the offending finger. You can feel his breathing on your skin.

Your breathing stops. You swallow an imaginary lump. He’s gonna bite off your fing-

“Would you be a doll and let me take care of it? Blood being unnecessary wasted truly abhors me”

You must have said yes at some point, you don’t really remember, now you are holding the red handkerchief he handed you, answering his request to “please follow him”. Trailing behind the Radio Demon, both of you walk through the large corridors.

This might be the time to scream for help. the voices inside your head warn. With every step of his feet you hear his microphone going tsk tsk tsk where it touches the ground. You are walking the death row, the paintings on the wall chanting “dead woman walking, dead woman walking”.

“Keep pressuring the wound darling, we are almost there” he gently commands you, too gently… it feels almost… soft, pleading. The way Alastor goes from 0 to 100 is giving you whiplash.

He slows down, reaching for the door knob of an unknown room. Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to enter first.

the door locks behind you.

if i’m being murdered, at least i’m being murdered with class.

“Don’t be silly, I’m not going to murder you” Alastor says, almost singing the last part of the sentence.

“Oh fuck, i said that out loud, didn’t I?” you blurted out

“Yes you did. And yes, I also noticed your lovely doe eyes on me every time i’m in the room”

Your brain short circuits. That 's it. You are dead. He’s not going to murder you (apparently), but you are going to die of embarrassment. It will feel like murder. He knows, fuck, he knows. He knows about your crush (?) and he’s going to drag you for it. You are going to be so dragged the angels will pity you and bring you to heaven. A creative way to be redeemed, Charlie should know about this. Your thoughts are going downhill as a big snowball, there are too many of them and you can’t follow a single coherent train of thought. You don’t even want to know how you look in the middle of this. You must look pathetic, truly like a doe caught in headlights. And then you hear your name once.

Twice now, in a sing-song voice.

Your eyes fly open towards the sound, breaking from the anxiety induced spell as you realize the Radio Demon had just called you, by name. He knows your name???

“Ah hahah! You’re back.” Alastor says, as he starts to circle you like a predator. Your eyes, as always, follow his across the room.

“I don’t like to repeat myself, little doe. You heard what I asked?”

Again, you don’t really remember answering, your brain is going AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA as you watch him pace around you, eyes burning red, demanding your attention. Teeth slightly barred, voice on the edge of something. Was that “X” on his forehead always there?

“I asked if you know what you are doing to me” static fills the room as he finishes speaking. Alastor’s clawed hand trapped your bloodied finger dangerously close to his grinning lips. Your brain is doing flips as he stares deep into your soul, and when your thoughts land you make the connection. Alastor is horny. Alastor is horny for y-

“You see, little doe, I know what your eyes hide when you desperately lower them everytime I come near you. I know how you feel you can hide in plain sight if you stay quiet enough. But I can taste it. Your fear. Your lust. In the air. In your blood.” He has a white knuckled grip on your wrist now, same with his microphone. You lower your guard, eyes going from startled to lustful. “Good thing right now there’s nothing more i want in this godforsaken pit than your lust, pet”

You want this. There’s no point in lying to yourself. You want Alastor to fuck you. You’ve fantasized about the Radio Demon taking you more times than you can count. More times than you would like to admit to yourself. This feels deeply wrong, but you crave it.

Fuck it, you are in hell, there’s nothing to lose. Alastor is still watching you, impatiently. For the first time today you realize you actually forgot to say something. He’s waiting. Alastor is waiting for your permission.

“Take my breath away, Alastor”

Your permission might have been really loud, it felt like you were screaming the words. But you can’t be sure, it might have been a whisper. Either way he didn’t miss it, what happens next is fast, angry and delicious.

Alastor pounces and licks the blood on your finger, something clicks inside him as he tastes the red liquid, because he lets go of his microphone instantly and his arms grab your waist aggressively, so forceful you wouldn’t be surprised if it breaks skin. You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, by the sight of a psychopathic demon drinking your blood. But you are, and there’s no going back.

“Strip” he orders. You want to say to him that you can’t take your clothes off your person with him holding you like this. He must have realized the conundrum: if he wants you naked, he has to let go of you. To Alastor, letting go of you right now is simply unthinkable. So he doesn’t: you feel his claws cut the bodice of your dress open, sending the most delicious shivers down your spine. Another claw rips your skirt apart, and you are almost fully naked in the Radio Demon’s arms, pressing your body hard on his still impeccable dressed body.

It’s humiliating, it’s dangerous, it’s hot, it is delicious, to be at his complete mercy, just how you always wanted.

Somehow both of you made your way close to the enormous bed in the middle of the room. Alastor cornered you, so the only way you could escape was walking backwards towards the bed. The brilliant bastard.

You feel your calves hitting the edge of the bed, and Alastor breaks away.

Pity, your mind complains. Get him back to touching you again. right. now,.

“Now now, we should establish some rules for this, pet” Alastor’s hands might have stopped touching you, but his piercing eyes never did. He knocks you on top of the bed, you lay there sprawled open just for him. His hands move up to do a quick work of his bowtie

“Rule one: you will take what I give you. Nothing more, nothing less. What I give you is enough. You might feel like you can’t take anymore, but you can. You will take it, I will make you take it” He takes his tailcoat off, his frame towering over you, even with your body completely flat on the mattress and his in front of it.

“ Rule two: every ounce of your pleasure is mine and mine only. Mine to give, mine to take. And you will give me everything. I want to hear every sound, to feel every touch, to know every nasty thought that runs inside that pretty little head of yours. You will not suppress anything, I wanna hear your moans when you make a mess of yourself as I take everything I desire from your delicious body. I will relish on your desperate screams of pleasure.Nothing outside these walls matter” He is climbing on the bed now. You hold the weight of his gaze, underneath your demonic lover’s eyes your skin burns.

“Rule three: don’t you dare cum without my permission, good girls earn their orgasms and you will be a good girl. Or else…” static starts to pick up around the room, you are seeing the blackest black that ever was, his shadows enveloping you both. Nothing outside these walls matter. “Understood?” Alastor says as he pins your hands on top of your head, against the fancy headboard. His hand cups one of your boobs and he is worrying your nipple between his sharp claws. finally finally, your mind sings. You feel a surge of magic binding your wrists in green chains, attached to the headboard. It’s overbearing, it’s ridiculous. His magic feels like him, another part of him for you to take.

He pinches your nipple particularly hard and you moan softly, pleasure and pain consuming any other sensation. You forgot to answer him, you realize. You’ve barely started and you are already being bad. “yes alastor, yes.. but please don’t stop” the soft whimper leaves your lips.

“lovely.” he replies, and with that his mouth is on your nipple, sucking it while he administers his wicked ministrations to your other one. His sharp teeth prickling on the edge of breaking skin, and you already feel like you won’t be able to take all of him.

His hand trails down to aggressively grip your thighs, his tongue sucking the neglected nipple his fingers left. Your moans become frequent and messy, if he’s already making you go insane with the beginnings of foreplay... You might pass out and die when he starts fucking you, but you don’t care. Let him show you the true meaning of la petite mort.

“My my, what do we have here” his hand leaves your thigh to trace the wetness of your panties. A clawed finger rips it apart, the last barrier between you and total consumption by the Radio Demon. He takes the finger between your glistening lips, not entering, just teasing

“I don’t think i will get enough of this pretty little body of ours anytime soon, pet” he says as his finger finally enters your sex, He moves his digit with an expertise you didn’t really know he had in him, making you whimper his name, ooohs and aaaahs, your hips start threshing from the pleasure. If you continue at this pace, you will be begging for permission to cum too soon. Pathetic. you think to yourself. Because you know how hard this building orgasm will be,you don’t know if he will grant you more than one orgasm. And will you murder you yourself if you don’t feel his cock inside you tonight. You take a deep breath in between your moans and will your hips to stay in place, your nerves to calm down.

Alastor adds another finger, and it takes all of your willpower not to become a puddle of wetness right there. You bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

“you do make a mess of yourself, don’t you? you just can’t help it” he says as he curls his digits inside you. Your hips start thrashing hard again, and you sink them deeper into the bed. The chains on your wrists shake with the effort to hold back. As if alastor wasn’t going to notice. “no no no what did I say?” he snaps angrily, he’s eyes flash red at you and he takes his fingers out with a wet “pop”, you feel like crying at the emptiness. “please please alastor, don’t stop” you plead. His hands leave you entirely, you are left with just his piercing gaze, the one that makes your skin burn. “did I say you could hold back? don’t pretend like you aren’t a common whore for me, that you love how pathetic it feels that you are creaming yourself and we haven’t even really started”

his condescending tone just makes everything even more sublime. It’s so wrong how good being told you are nothing more than a common whore by the Radio Demon feels. But you never felt anything close to this. “please Alastor” you beg again, nothing but a small whisper

“I would love to taste this pussy, so red already for me, but since you broke one of the rules… i’m afraid I will make you understand that are nothing but my pretty cockslut the hard way”

Punishment? His punishment sounds ever better than his praise right now. You moan at his voice. He laughs.

His knees cage you, as he lifts his upper body from you and starts undoing his zipper. He is taking his cock out. Oh fuck, he’s gonna fuck you without anymore foreplay. And he’s not going to be gentle about it either. You shiver.

Alastor pumps himself a few times, his cock is big, thick, and an angry red shade, flush red like that, because of you, just for you. He’s gonna make you pay: pay for holding back from him, pay for making him feel like an animal and almost losing his hard constructed control.

The look on his face says it all, he’s gonna take it out on you and you can’t do nothing about it.

You don’t have much time to think about the repercussions, in one swift motion his tip is already inside you, stretching you deliciously. Your brain short circuits again, the feeling of his cock inside you is everything you imagine and more. Depraved, heavenly, delicious. You struggle in your binds again, you want desperately to touch him. To feel his skin beneath your finger, to scratch him, mark him. But oh well, he’s the Radio Demon, he’s the one in charge and you are his prey.

Alastor starts to slowly enter you, he’s trying his best to hold back. He knows if he does this too fast it will hurt in a way he doesn’t want you to feel. And by the look on his face going slow is as torturous for him as it is for you. tantalizing inch after tantalizing inch he spreads the walls of your cunt apart. You understand now why this is punishment, it hurts in a perfect way, it hurts even more that he is doing it slowly, and not just thrusting like you imagined he would, if he had more time to work on you.

You become a mess of moans and incoherent words. His cock is halfway inside you now “HoLY FUCK ALASTOR” you scream. It’s already too much.

“There’s nothing holy about this my dear. I’m going to breed you. I’m going to break you” and with that he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Now you truly scream in pleasure and pain “you won’t be able to walk straight for days, you will feel me in every step, and you will thank me for it”. His thrusts pick up at breakneck speed, the bed shakes from the sheer force that Alastor is using to fuck you. Every snap of his hips you moan more and more.

The sound you make when he takes everything out and enters you at once is so obscene that it would make Angel Dust blush. He’s growling now, his antlers growing bigger as he fucks you like his life dependend on it. As he fucks you like he hates you.

Alastor pushes your hips higher, and suddenly he’s even deeper. His other hand holding your waist in a bruising grip. The strain on your pinned hands will bruise too. His lips graze the skin of your collarbone, he looks so feral you are scared he will maul, the thrill of not knowing adding to your fucked up sense of pleasure.

He seems to pick up on your fear, and bites down on your collarbone, hauling as he tastes your blood and buries himself inside you again and again. Moans turned into screams, and the only thing coming out of your lips is his name, spoken like a profane prayer. You would give everything you have to Alastor, and he doesn’t even have to ask.

Your orgasm has been building for a while now, the coil on your belly becoming tighter and tighter, like a supernova about to be born. “Alastor, please please let me come” you beg. His unfocused eyes stare down at you, as he takes a moment from feasting on your sweet blood to address your desperate, sweet pleas.

“Don’t. You. Dare” he says, punctuating every word with a sharp thrust. As much as you want, you are not sure you will be able to hold any longer. “I beg you alastor, please let me cum, i will let you do anything you want. but i need it so badly, please please”

You sounded so desperate when you begged, so beautiful.

“Don’t strike deals you don’t know you can fulfill, pet” his voice is low, a warning. You ignore it. “I promise Alastor, anything”. Alastor laughs.

his finger touches your clit as he finally allows your sweet relief “you may come now, sweet doe” and that’s it, you are off, you are dead. You see stars, you see the entire universe as you scream out and climax. Walls tightening around Alastor’s monster cock, eyes rowling, his name a scream on your lips. You ride out your wave slowly, but Alastor is not slowing down.

Instead he is picking up his pace, maneuvering your hips even higher, your chains are stretched to the limit. You can feel them start piercing your skin. Thrust after thrust the sensation becomes too much, you are too overstimulated to go through all of this again.

“i can’t take it, i can’t take it!”

Alastor doesn’t care. “I told you not to make deals if you can’t hold them, didn’t I?” You don’t answer, you can’t. you can’t to anything but let him fuck you as hard and as much as he want. “but you are such a little cockslut for me that you can’t help it. What a shame”

He is gripping your hips so hard it breaks skin, tiny trails of blood on his claws. “you will take it. You better take it, or I will make you take it” static picks up as he threatens the last words. You know you are spent, you know how bad it hurts, you know how bad his words sound, but the lines between pleasure and pain are so blurred that you can’t think coherently. Even this pain of being broken feels good.

Still, tears fill your eyes and you start crying, from pleasure, from pain, you don’t know anymore. What Alastor is doing to you has no precedent. No one can do this like he does. He knows torture too well, and he is tortouring you in the most decadent, delicious ways possible. “alastor i want to, i want to so bad but i just can’t” the tears sting your eyes and stain your face.

Alastor sees it. He slows down just a bit, his voice softening “oh my dear doe, but you can. Just this once more, just for me. One more” his voice is so maddening soft it acts like fuel to your tears. Your skin tingles and you feel giddy, somehow your throbbing hot, wet cunt seems to find the right amount of relief, and you can feel only pleasure again.

Alastor continues to fuck you, your moans returning to normal, you are being so loud now, making a mess of yourself, just like he said, and a big hand comes to cover your mouth.

“Oh we can’t have you being this loud can we?” his voice goes to that delicious mocking tone. His thrusts are slower now, but as deep as they can go. “what would you friends say if they found out that you moan like a common whore for their feared radio demon.. hum,.?”

You start to feel the pit of your belly tightening again, and alastor doesn’t stop humiliating you. The degradation feels just the right amount of perfection. You are exactly what he says you are. A common whore when it comes to him. “weren’t you ashamed just a few moments ago? trying to hold back the sinful sounds you make when I touch you? I already gave you one orgasm. I’ve been way too generous for my liking. I should stop right now since you feel so conscious about this” Alator’s breathing is becoming erratic, his thrusts sharp, hard, and out of the breakneck rhythm he was torturing you before.You start moaning even louder through his hand. “ungrateful little pet. You are just so greedy for one more orgasm, you don’t even care that everyone downstairs can hear you hm??”

You can’t think straight. you feel on the edge of glory, this orgasm threatening to be harder than your previous one, as if it is possible. “alastor i’m so sorry, i know i don’t deserve it” you muffle behind his hand, he hears you speaking and takes if off “but can you please let me cum? just this once? just for you. Please Al” his thrusts are truly erratic now. He’s close too, even though you are too wrapped up on your own sensations to notice

“please” you beg, nothing more than a whisper. Already making peace with the fact that you are going to come without his permission and he will probably never fuck you again

“Good girl, you can come now”

instantly as you are granted his permissions your world explodes, blinding hot pleasure takes over your body, the waves of pleasure making your heart beat so fast you feel like it’s going to stop. The petit mort is coming, and her sweet embrace envelops you, specially now that you feel Alastor’s cock twitching and spilling his seed inside you. You scream his name. Maybe you hear him screaming yours too. You don’t know anymore, your nerves are singing from pleasure unheard of back when you were alive. Pleasure so great it could only be found in hell. The most heavily, depraved way of torture.

You come down from your high, still dizzy, your body going limp. You are not dead, but you are positively spent. You give in into the warm and fuzziness of sleep.

The last thing you remember is the softness of a blanket, a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Oh my dear, I knew you had one more on you,spending yourself this way just for me! What a truly precious thing, doe”

You might be dreaming now.

You weren’t dreaming. Alastor praises you, knowing his words will be the last thing you hear before a night of peaceful, deep dreamless slumber. He makes sure to put the softest velvet blanket he owns on your body, not to make the damage you gladly allowed your body to take for him an inconvenience. Tomorrow you will wake up to fancy letters of praise and sweet chocolate covered strawberries. And no one will know how Alastor found the perfect doe to breed as he pleases during the height of his mating season.

#hello guys im insane can you tell?#eu escrevi isso aqui na força do odio puro e genuino de quem ta sendo xingada no twitter tem dias #alastor #alstor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor fanfic #the radio demon #the radio demon x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin fic #autora também está no cio #serio aquela msuica sento no bico da glock rebolo e tiro o short e vem vamo fudeee o gabriel tirou o meu cabaço e me botou de quatro nao #sai da minha cabeça #aquariano nato também não #QUEBRA A CAMA DESSAS PUTAAAAAAAAA #baixaria

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leejihoonownsmyheart · 5 months

Text

Sehnsucht (M)

Summary:

You and Wonwoo have been rivals since your first of University, and despite it being your final year, that rivalry doesn't seem like it's going anywhere soon when you both end up in German 101.

Tags: dub con, academic rivals to fucking academic rivals, mean!woo, both are super smart, german- BECAUSE OKAY IM IN GERMAN RN AND I WAS LIKE WHAT IF I ADD A LITTLE BIT OF GERMAN AND THEN I ADDED A FUCKING LOT SO language kink 😊, a HUGE abuse of the german language, ALSO IM IN GERMAN 101 SO GOOGLE WAS MY BEST FRIEND SO IM SORRY IF ANY OF IT IS WRONG I DONT UNDERSTAND VERB PLACEMENT, okay, Wonwoo is genuinely mean okay? Keep in mind, creampie, public sex because we know I love it, wonwoo rawdogs it, lots of teasing, brats all around, rough sex?

I did end up with my own German consultant, thank you @hyunjins-dimples and I did ignore some of their german language advice because I just did, anyways I will be ignoring any and all german language critiscism from anyone other than my beautiful, perfect, amazing, german friend tyvm : )

“Alright, and when you conjugate the verb komme, as in to come, where would you place the verb?” Your professor asked. His eyebrows furrowed slightly in thought as his gaze crossed over the class. “As in a sentence like. I go to Germany?”

You thought over your answer in your head, clearly for too long as suddenly your professors’ eyes were across the room.

“Uh, Wonwoo?”

“Ich komme nach Deutschland.”

“Good!” Your professor said with a nod. You could feel a gaze land on you, and you didn��t have to look over to know that a smug look was being shot at you. You rolled your eyes and pressed your cheek into your hand. “In some sentences there are two verbs. Does anyone know what we would do if we had kommen and an in the same sentence. As in to say something about August?”

Your hand shot up before you could think about it. Your professor nodded at you, and you tried to cooly answer.

“Ich an komme im August?” You murmured, unable to keep the question out of your voice. You knew you had made a mistake when you heard a stifled chuckle from the other side of the classroom. And your professor’s eyes drifted to the side, his mouth falling open as he tried to find a nice way to say that you were wrong.

“Right well, if you said that it wouldn’t be quite right.”

You pressed your eyes closed in frustration as Wonwoo spoke without even raising his hand.

“It would be Ich komme im August an,” he said, and there was no doubt in his voice that he was right.

“Richtig, gut,” your professor praised lightly, before continuing to tell you all the nuances of where the verb was placed in sentences and when it should be where. You felt your fingers clasp at your apple pencil tighter and this time you looked over at the gaze across the room.

You glared at Wonwoo, wishing he wasn’t so good at this.

You had been fighting in classes with Wonwoo since your freshmen year of college. You weren’t sure how come your classes always collided so much. After all, he was an English major, and you were in Zoology. It didn’t make sense for you two to meet in so many classes, past of course, gen eds but regardless you saw Wonwoo practically everywhere that you went.

It was so frustrating. You hadn’t known him in high school and in high school you had been the valedictorian. You were in the honors college, and you already had plans on where exactly you were going to go for your Bachelors. So, when you sat down for your first Chemistry class, buzzing with the excitement of knowing exactly what you were going to say. You were a bit annoyed to find that somebody else was raising their hand just a millisecond faster than you were.

Your very first day in Chemistry ended up being a fierce race between you and this Wonwoo on who could answer the fastest, and you were both very good at Chemistry.

In every class that you two were in whether it be Chemistry, Biology, Writing, or gender studies and attitudes of the world, you and Wonwoo were sat down after about the second week with your professor, encouraged to let other students answer questions in class.

Sometimes you two just immediately turned to each other and whispered the answer at one another with sharp gazes.

So, you were a bit pissed when you sat down for German 101 at the beginning of your last semester and stupid Wonwoo was in your class.

How could you have possibly had at least one class with him every single semester at this university? Would it go on to grad school? Would you two be stuck at an internship together? God forbid you two visit Germany at the same time.

You shivered at the mere thought.

What was an English major even doing taking German? For goodness sake, you only chose the class because you thought it would be the last class he would be in.

And to add onto that, why the fuck was he so good at German?

It was German 101. Literally elementary German and sentence structure in German was confusing as hell so why was he finding it so easy.

You tried not to scowl too hard as you thought about it, wondering what gave him the right to just be good at everything he did. You would have to stay even later at the library tonight if you were going to manage to keep up with him.

After class, as you packed your things, you made a point to brush past Wonwoo, ‘accidentally’ bumping your shoulder into his. You never knew why you did that really. He was practically immovable.

You wondered if it was possible for him to study and workout at the same time.

Maybe he just didn’t work.

But you did and you worked quite a bit. Which meant jam sessions where you tried to force the material that you didn’t know down your throat in only a manner of hours.

Which meant you were at the library late a lot.

Not that, that was the only place that you ran into the asshole.

“You must be a bit desperate to even be studying at lunch time,” Wonwoo commented. You looked up from your little hole in the dining room- The one spot in the whole cafeteria that you felt completely comfortable in. Tucked in a corner where no one could see you.

You couldn’t hear the buzz of the students around you in this little corner booth, and you had every opportunity to just pull your legs up on the seat, and enjoy the world around you.

“What are you doing over here?” You hissed, instead of arguing the desperate allegations. You definitely were desperate, to be studying while you were eating lunch, and there was no point in arguing that.

Unfortunately for you, Wonwoo was a good study. And that meant that he had been able to study you over the years, along with all of his other assignments. Frustratingly enough, he always knew when you were lying. So, there was no point in trying to pretend like you weren’t.

“I just came to eat as well,” he stated.

He took a seat right next to you, forcing your feet to the floor. He didn’t have any food with him, and you wondered why that was until he reached around you and plucked one of the fries off of your plate.

“Hey-”

“What are you even studying?” He asked you. You rolled your eyes. Advanced biology.

“Nothing you would know,” you grumbled. He took a single glance at your screen, and mumbled the answer to the question that you felt like you had been thinking about for hours. You tried to keep your anger to a minimum. “Well, duh, that’s easy.”

How did he know that?

“If it’s so easy, why have you been here all day?” Wonwoo pressed. He didn’t even have his own things with him.

“Have you been stalking me?” You blurted, noting that it did sound a little shrill.

“No… I could just hear you trying to think from across campus.”

You started to spew insults at Wonwoo because, well, how else were you supposed to respond to him? But they fell on deaf ears. Wonwoo simply plucked a few more of your fries from your plate, and then walked away as if the conversation had ended ages ago.

You got your chance for proper payback a few weeks later.

When you saw that there was going to be a mandatory lecture for English majors by James Franco… Well, you just knew you had to be there. A study on english composition and how it is seen in history and therefore portrayed in film. You had been studying english and film in your free time for almost your whole life.

For you, it was a pipe dream… Which meant that if there was anything that you were going to show up Wonwoo in…

You excitedly sat next to him in the lecture hall, shooting him a bright smile despite the early hour.

“Coffee?” You offered him. Wonwoo looked exhausted, you’d heard there was a mandatory frat party the night before. Poor guy was probably up all night.

He gave you a suspicious expression while he looked at the cup, but he seemed to remember quickly that he was a bit too tired to say no to it. He took the cup and took a swig from it.

“Poison?” He asked you, even though you both knew you had ordered him his favorite kind.

“I’m thinking of a much slower death,” you replied lightly. You tapped the desk in front of you. “Aren’t you excited? James Franco… Wow, imagine that… One of the only notable PhD holders in English and he’s an actor.”

You seemed to think over your words.

“It’s almost as if being an English major is just a hussle for most people… Must be an easy way to get a doctorate.”

You kept your voice airy.

“How does that sound, Doctor Jeon Wonwoo?”

It was all meant to strike a chord in him but something about using such a high title with him made your mouth go dry. Wonwoo’s eyes darkened a bit, and you knew that he wanted to press the way that you had addressed him. You didn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Well,” you said quickly. “I hope you’re ready for this lecture. I would hate for your head to hurt too much to enjoy it.”

Wonwoo grumbled.

“You talk too damn much.”

It was always like that with Wonwoo, a constant game of pushing and pulling and before you knew it your first test was coming up in German. You weren’t sure how things were going to go with it, but you did know that between all of your other classes you hadn’t had much of a chance to study for German.

And that meant cramming.

And cramming on a normal day was a lot and on days especially like this one. It left you feeling very delirious.

“Ich bin nicht klug…” You mumbled to yourself, not only furrowing your eyebrows at the fact that you were pretty sure you said it wrong, but also trying to figure out when the fuck you were supposed to use not, and how the fuck you added it to a sentence.

“Richtig,” a voice mumbled, dragging you away from the quizlet open on your tablet. “Du bist nicht klug.”

You glared at Wonwoo.

“I don’t need you to tell me I’m not smart. I was just talking,” you grumbled at him. He hummed, placing a hand in your little cubicle, leaning over your head to look at your quizlet.

“Well, it’s true,” Wonwoo commented. “Du bist sehr schlecht im Gebrauch von Verben im Deutschen.” You were frustrated to find that no matter how hard you thought about it, you had no clue what he had just said. Not that he even gave you time to process. “Oh, es tut mir leid. I said that you are very bad at verb usage in German.”

You elbowed Wonwoo as you wheeled your chair to the side, trying to get out from under him. He let his back press against the divider to your left, so you got to your feet.

“Why the fuck are you so good at German anyways?” You blurted. “Why the fuck does an English major need to know German?”

Wonwoo shrugged.

“Just thought it would be fun to take.”

You were furious. German was the only thing that you weren’t able to keep up with Wonwoo in.

You two had been matching rivals in Chemistry and your gender studies class. You had smoked him in Biology, but he had never been able to beat you in a class before. Even in writing you both ended up with the same exact grade on every assignment. So why German?

Why was he so good at German?

“You know you’re disrupting my studying,” you grumbled, a bit annoyed by his interruption. You slid your tablet to the side, and picked up your water bottle, taking a sip. As you did Wonwoo held out his hand, clearly expecting you to share your water with him.

You rolled your eyes at his audacity.

You handed him your water bottle.

“Do you need help studying?” Wonwoo asked, and it would seem genuine if it weren’t for that condescending look in his eyes. “I bet even after hours of studying you don’t know how to form a sentence.”

You knew enough German to say: “Ich hasse dich.” Because you had learned the phrase, I hate you specifically to say it to Wonwoo.

He stepped a bit closer to you.

“You could also say Dich hasse ich,” Wonwoo clarified. “It’s interchangeable in that sentence.”

You two stared at one another, and it was only then that you realized exactly how close you two were to one another. Your eyes flickered across his perfect face. Smooth, glassy skin, gorgeous dark eyes framed in glasses that should make him look like a nerd but instead just made him more handsome, and pretty pink lips that you just wanted to-

You felt your cheeks redden and you knew you had to act fast. You reached forward, grabbing the frames from off his face.

“Are you ever embarrassed by the fact that your genes are so awful you have to wear glasses?” You mumbled, trying to hide your moment of weakness. You two were so close to one another that you could barely even hold his glasses up between the two of you without your knuckles brushing his chest. You raised his glasses to your face, sliding them up your nose.

You frowned.

“God your sight is awful. You reall-”

Before you could finish your sentence Wonwoo had grabbed your wrist and holy shit he was a lot stronger than you had imagined he would be.

He gestured towards your skirt, which barely even fell halfway past your thighs.

“Are you ever embarrassed to walk around like some sort of conceited slut?”

Your mouth dropped open, and you knew that you should be angry and push Wonwoo away and yell at him because you had both taken the same gender studies class and you knew that he knew better than to talk to anyone that way, and you knew that he was respectable to people of all genders, but instead you just stood there, shocked.

There was a tightness in the pit of your stomach, and your hand fell to your side, gripping at the edge of your desk. You struggled to find something to say back, and your hesitance made Wonwoo’s expression which, by the way, had turned to shock as soon as the words left his mouth, to confusion.

“Bist du dumm?” He mumbled, and the question went right over your head. You suddenly weren’t able to think about anything. He flicked your forehead lightly. “I said are you dumb? Don’t you know you’re supposed to argue it when someone says something derogatory like that to you?”

His voice was veiled a bit in concern. Like he was worried that people were walking around calling you a slut to your face and you weren’t saying anything about it.

… You certainly hoped that Wonwoo never found out about your book preferences. Maybe you should try and hide Haunting Adaline from your bookshelves on Goodreads.

“I was just caught off guard,” you mumbled. “I thought you were more intelligent than needing to resort to such derogatory terms.”

Bold-faced lie. Your face was red. Why were you growing so warm at the implication. Why were you thinking about the fact that nobody was ever in this corner of the library this late at night. Why were you thinking about the window that was right in front of you two looking out on the water fountain outside of the library? Why were you thinking about the absence of cameras on this floor? And most importantly why were you wondering what Wonwoo’s hands would be like with your skirt bunched into it?

You two stared at one another, and Wonwoo took a step closer (you were surprised that was even possible) his gaze becoming a bit sharper.

“Es gefällt dir…” You like it.

“Nein…” You mumbled back. Wonwoo’s hand came up to your chin, his thumb brushing it at first, making your chin tilt up a bit, encouraging the touch. When you did that Wonwoo clasped his fingers on your chin, holding it where you presumed, he wanted it.

“Yes, you do,” he said in awe. He leaned forward, his eyes flickering down to your lips.

“You look hot in my glasses,” he mumbled.

You made a noise that was not a response.

His lips ghosted yours.

“Keep them on.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. At first, it was hesitant. He was a bit unsure of if he wanted to actually kiss you, or if you actually wanted to kiss him. That was a fair thought of him to have because you were unsure if you even wanted to kiss him, until his lips were on yours and then your arms were wrapping around him, the palm of your hand pressing on his neck so that he was forced closer to you.

One of Wonwoo’s hands came up to your hair, and he pulled you back by your ponytail. You hissed at the action, but the way that it sent a coil of heat through your body was enough to stop you from complaining.

“Ich will dich ficken,” Wonwoo mumbled, as your lips parted. Your eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“You want to…” You trailed off, your fingers balling into his shirt. You didn’t know that verb, you were sure your professor hadn’t covered it.

“Fuck.” Wonwoo twisted your body so that you were pressed against the edge of the desk, and his pelvis was pressed to yours. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“So? Are you going to be fucking good and let me take you?”

You were already nodding when the word good left his lips. So, when he finished the question, you were nodding rapidly.

“Yes,” you mumbled. “Oh god please take me Wonwoo.”

A smirk flickered across his lips.

“In German.”

Frustration bubbled up in your body…. Or was that arousal?

“Uh… Ja… ich will dich ficken… Too?”

That must have been good enough because the next thing you knew, Wonwoo’s lips were on yours again and he was hiking you up onto the desk, pushing your skirt up to your waist with ease.

“You don’t even have shorts under this,” he mumbled against your lips as his hand ran over your thigh. He slapped you there, hard. You yelped and your fingers tightened in his shirt. “Du bist ein Depp…"

You vaguely registered he was calling you an idiot, but before you could respond he was sliding down your body, his fingers on your sides making you shiver despite being over your shirt. He got to his knees in front of you and took the hem of your underwear with his fingers.

“Let me get this off of you your highness,” he said mockingly. Your body grew even hotter, and you leaned back on your hands, lifting your legs a bit so he could easily pull your underwear off of you. You could feel a string of wetness drawing from your pussy as he pulled your underwear off and you wanted to hide your face in embarrassment at the truth of just how much Wonwoo had turned you on. You pressed your lips together tightly.

“God you’re fucking soaked,” Wonwoo mumbled. He slapped your thighs apart again, and you obediently spread them for him. “You want me to treat you like mein kleines Schwanzluder?”

You had no clue what he was saying, and your silence in response made him pinch your inner thigh. You bit down into your fist.

“Are you really that bad at German?” He asked you. “If you can’t even respond to a question as simple as, do you want me to treat you like my little cock slut than I don’t know how you are going to pass the final.”

“Ja,” you blurted, scrambling to drag any German you knew out of your mind. “Bitte.” Please. “Ich bin dein…” You hesitated on the last word. I am your…

“Schwanzluder,” Wonwoo said softly, his eyes focusing on you. “Cock slut.”

“Schwanzluder,” you repeated, your voice barely there. Wonwoo hummed.

“Bad pronunciation,” he mumbled. “But then again, you’re also bad at that.”

You went to protest him because you thought that your German pronunciation was pretty good, but then you thought of something better to argue with him about:

“Are you even going to be able to do anything down there?” You asked him tauntingly. “You probably wouldn’t be able to find a clit even with your glasses o-” Before you could finish, Wonwoo was shoving something wet and salty into your mouth, Your eyes widened in surprise when you realized you recognized the feeling of the cloth of your wet underwear from when you had done this to yourself while masturbating in the past. Your face burned in shame at the way that this only turned you on more.

“Halt die Schnauze…”

You didn’t have to know German to know that he was telling you to shut up.

Wonwoo’s hands pressed at the insides of your thighs, high enough that he was able to feel the dampness that had soaked through the thin cloth of your underwear. He massaged his thumbs into your thighs, and beneath the blurriness of Wonwoo’s glasses you could see him smile slightly. His hands slid further up your thighs and one of his thumbs prodded at your folds, dragging them to the side so that he could see your wet pussy even better.

“Fuck…” He mumbled. “You’re wet like a bitch in heat.” You let your head fall back and hit the glass of the window behind your head. You couldn’t deny what he was saying, as badly as you wanted to. He had eyes, and even though his glasses weren’t on… He could certainly feel how wet you were beneath his fingers.

His thumb plunged into you suddenly, feeling thick and short as he delved inside of you. His fingers brushed your clit and you whined against the cloth in your mouth, your eyes falling shut. He pulled his thumb out of you after a few moments, seeming to be in thought, and then he was suddenly pressing two fingers at your entrance.

It was a lot… Especially for someone who had not been prepped, and he seemed to figure out with the way that the stretch felt around his fingers. He retracted and then pushed a single finger inside of you. The feeling was intoxicating. Even though you had felt yourself that you were not stretched enough for two you felt like you needed it.

It wasn’t long until you were begging for more as desperately as you could from behind your gag. Your fingers were gripping desperately at the desk, and it had Wonwoo chiding as he finally eased a second finger into you.

“Du bist erbärmlich…” He mumbled and you had no fucking clue what he had said but it sounded so hot with the little twinge of accent in his voice. You rolled your hips down onto his fingers, and the action made Wonwoo press a hand to your pelvis. “Hör auf.”

Again you whined, but your body stilled under his command. The pressure of him pushing down on you pushed his fingers even further inside of you and if you thought that was hard to handle, you couldn’t imagine what it would be like with his dick inside of you.

As if to read your thoughts, Wonwoo leaned forward, his hot breath teasing your clit.

“Oh Engel… I’m going to fucking destroy you,” he mumbled. He leaned forward, and he began to suck on your clit. His tongue flicking over it as a way to distract you as he stuffed a third finger into you.

The burn was amazing, and the distraction of his wet tongue on your clit was so welcoming that you about came just from that.

You had always wanted Wonwoo to just shut up. Thought that there was no use at all for his mouth.

But here he was… Proving that he had at least one very good use for his mouth. You tried to fight the urge to move under him, going as far as to slap the palm of your hand against the desk you were being eaten out on, but as soon as his mouth completely replaced his fingers, and you felt your wetness on your thigh, you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling down against him.

Somehow his hot mouth felt just as good as his fingers did, and they were making your core burn in a way that was fucking painful. You needed his cock in you right now.

Wonwoo moaned against your cunt- The first indicator that he was enjoying this just as much as you were, and he suddenly pulled away from you. His fingers dipped into you again but only briefly.

“Bend over,” Wonwoo murmured, twisting your body so that your ass was against his bare wet dick. You could feel it poking at your ass and you quickly bent over, placing the palms of your hands to the window.

“Not good enough,” Wonwoo mumbled. He pressed his hand to the small of your back, forcing your ass up more, and with his other hand his fingers knotted in your hair and he shoved your face into the window. “That’s better…”

He trailed off as he moved the hand not in your hair to (you assumed) take hold of his cock. You stayed there for seconds that felt like hours, skirt bunched around your waist, ass out for Wonwoo, your rival, and your face smashed up against the window just enough to see that there were people walking outside, presumably to their dorms.

Frustration began to bubble inside you, which expressed itself in small tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Ich möchte hören, wie Du darum bettelst.”

The german made you let out a sob of frustration as it was paired with Wonwoo sliding the tip of his cock between your soaked and already abused folds.

“Wonwoo, I don’t fucking know what you’re saying,” you cried out. You bucked your hips, trying to force his cock into you which worked except it didn’t because just his tip slipped inside of you.

God you felt like you were going to go feral at the feeling of his bare cock inside of you, you were already thinking about him pumping you full of cum…

“Guess you better figure out what I’m saying.”

Your mind raced, trying to figure out what Wonwoo could have possibly been telling you to do. You didn’t really recognize any of the words… Ich… I… hören… hear…? Will… want-

“Bitte, bitte, bitte,” you pleaded desperately. “I want your cock so badly… treat me like your own schwandluger or… Whatever it was- Please Wonwoo, I’m beggi-”

Before you could finish speaking Wonwoo was shoving himself into you. Your fists lightly hit the window at the feeling, so relieved to finally have him inside of you. You understood now why he had deemed only fingering you on three fingers as a punishment. You felt like you were being split open on his cock, and he had decided that he was going to go easy on you.

“You’re so small like this,” Wonwoo mumbled. “I mean look at you, unable to move under me… Someone you despise… How’s it feel to not only be physically overpowered but also to be intelligently inferior to me?”

Humiliation boiled through your veins, and each hard thrust of his cock sent him deeper into you than the time before.

“Genau so mag ich dich…” Wonwoo mumbled, a hint of admiration in his voice. He tugged you up by your hair, arching your back. His arm wrapped around your body, right under your breasts, pushing them up as he brought his face right up next to yours.

He stared at you, his eyes squinting as he took in your already fucked out expression. He watched you bounce for a few seconds, each thrust drawing out a loud and desperate cry from you. Then, finally, he leaned forward and kissed you again.

This kiss was just as hot and heavy as the way he was fucking you, and you really ended up just screaming out in his mouth with every single thrust.

“You may not be good at German, but you are damn good at taking my cock,” he hissed out. “So, it turns out you are useful.”

He suddenly pushed you back down onto the table, smashing your face onto the cold surface.

“So why don’t you be a good cumdump and take all of my cum?”

You hadn’t even realized how much the pressure of needing to come had been building up in you until you felt the first warm spurt of cum fill your cunt.

There were a million reasons why you shouldn’t be excited by the fact that not only was Wonwoo fucking you raw but he was coming inside of you but all you could remember was how hot Wonwoo sounded when he was speaking to you in German, and how much you liked him controlling you as you began to come as well.

Your whole body shook as Wonwoo fucked you full of his cum, and he continued to fuck you until your body had stopped shaking. His fingers released in your hair, and the sound of both of you panting filled the air. You two were completely still for minutes that felt like hours, before finally you peeled yourself off the table.

You stared at Wonwoo, who was staring right back at you.

“Take your fucking glasses back,” you mumbled. He smiled at you, dragging them off of your face.

“Happily,” he replied. He ran his fingers through his hair, and he almost looked completely the same as he had when he first started to fuck you. “You know what the best part about this is?”

You stared at Wonwoo, the humiliation burning on your face.

“What is the best part?” You asked him, your voice low.

“You have barely studied,” he said, and his voice was heightened in amusement. “Good luck on the test tomorrow.”

His eyes swept over your body, clearly noting the fact that you were in no shape to study anymore. He gestured towards his phone- the time- reminding you that your class was so early that you wouldn’t even be able to study before it if you went to bed now.

Your mind raced with the implications.

“Get home safely y/n,” Wonwoo said, his voice light. You went to protest, but before you could he had pushed his fingers deep inside of you. Your fingers clutched the desk, immediately remembering who had been fucking you not long before. Who you had been begging to dominate you just moments ago.

He pulled his fingers out of you and sucked them into his mouth with a smile.

“Maybe we’ll do this again.”

And then he was gone. Your blood was boiling, from satisfaction, humiliation, and pure anger at Wonwoo for having fucked you so that you would do bad on the test tomorrow, but one thing proved true between all of it. For him to think about fucking you to sabotage you, there had to be an initial wish to fuck you to begin with.

And if that were the case then… Well, you could certainly use this to your advantage…

May the games begin.

Taglist:

@starlight-night0, @alltheshineofthestars-blog, @park-hera-gi, @melodicrabbit, @jeanjacketjesus, @sparklyshuji, @woo8hao, @toruro, @wonudazed, @kkakkameori

(you can join my taglist here)

#does this imply a sequel #yes but i may very well be taking the netflix stance in matters of such #and not follow up #so don't get excited :)#seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen #svt fanfic #svt fanfiction #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #wonwoo #wonwoo fanfiction #wonwoo fanfic #this fic may determine my retirement #i'm just kidding #talking to talk #svt smut #mean!seventeen

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hauntedbythenarrative · 2 years

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Very depressed vent in the tags

#sometimes idk how i should go on with life #like #italy didn't need a fascist government #sometimes i think the only way out is death #at this point nothing makes sense #i enjoy nothing #everything is pain and the world keep getting worse and worse #and i don't want to live in a stew thanks to global warming #my therapist says that in general everyone rn needs to persevere (?) i'm too sleep deprived to search it on google translate #but why should i persevere? for what? a future where i have even zero rights than now and no job perspectives #and my region had become a desert #i don't want to live in that future #sometimes i think the best year of my life was 2017-2018 and that's it i can never have something like that ever again #i can't even enjoy the stuff i enjoyed before uni and all the trauma it caused me #i just hate everything and myselfnand everything i did and every choice that took me here and there isn't much to do about it #antidepressants never worked anyways so #and rn i'm also having a lot of problems with being lesbian (luckily nothing related to catholic guilt i never had that kind of stuff)#more like i have a reptilian brain not used or made to be around people and it's complicated and this vent is already long #and tumblr tags have a limit #i finished peach soju so i can only make myself herbal infusions #it's a messy vent ik i'm sorry #emma and her stupid vent

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obsessedwithegos · 2 years

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For the Cade trapped by Werewolf hunters, I want to go into his cell with a TV and play an endless amount of sad dog movies. All Dogs Go To Heaven, Where the Red Fern Grows, Old Yeller, etc. Only to randomly put Stephen King's Cujo in the mix.

CW: Mentioned dog deaths in movies (very brief)

Cade was almost excited to see the TV but the excitement quickly drains as he sees the collection of movies you have with you.

He still sits and watches them, only really purposefully avoiding watching when it got to the death scenes.

It's about 5 movies in that you decide to throw in Cujo. At this point, Cade seems to purposefully zone out.

If you try to get his attention to make him keep watching, he opts to ignore you.

He'd much rather be shocked or beaten then watch the movie. Though in his own zoning out, he seemed to not realize that his own drool started to bubble at the corners of his mouth.

While definitely not nearly close to rabies level of bubbling, it's certainly interesting how it seems to happen during the Cujo movie.

Once the movie is switched over to a different one, he zones back in to watch.

[no tag lists just to be safe]

#note: I've only seen All Dogs Go To Heaven but it was a lot time ago and the memory is vague but for my own comfortability I didn't do much #research into the movies due to the topic of pet death! (/not mad)#I almost had this be a lot darker but ended up squicking myself out so you get a lighter versiosngkj dshfgkjhdsfgj #owe answers #anonymous #whump #whump tag #werewolf hunter tag #cade tag #animal death #dog death #(fictional for both as it's relating to the movies but i wanna be safe)#I wanted to give him a more interesting reaction but for this one I was unable to and I apologize for that!#I did google a brief description of Cujo and that was the extent of my research #ask to tag #asker whumper

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simelune · 1 year

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the joy of life legacy challenge by @simelune 37 generations to keep you playing.

as i was looking for legacy challenges that were being updated as new packs came out, i had the thought "hey, why not just write one myself?" so here we are! i'll do by best to add new generations as time goes on, but seeing as this already has 37 (!!) generations, i think we'll be okay for a bit.

a few notes:

this challenge incorporates mods. i tried to include options for players who do not use gameplay mods, but some generations are built around them.

this challenge uses (almost) all packs. some generations are based off specific packs though, so you could pick and choose which gens you want to do.

this challenge has story aspects. there's a lot of room for you to come up with a story yourself each generation, so have fun with it!

some generations are longer and more involved than others! this is meant to give you a bit of a break and provide variety between generations.

GOOGLE DOC

please feel free to tag me if you try this challenge! i would love to see how you interpret some of the story aspects and seeing your simmies makes my day <3 you could also tag it with "#tjol challenge" / "#tjolc" if you prefer!

if you have any questions or feedback, my inbox is always open.

UPDATED 12.19.23

now includes generations for 'growing together' and 'horse ranch'.

#AAAAAAAAAAA IT'S HERE!!!! god my anxiety is thru the roof lmao #ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 challenge #ts4 legacy challenge #ts4 gameplay #sims 4 #how do people tag these.

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wosowritinnnggs11 · 17 days

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SMUT! 18+ MDNI

Ona x Reader ... Alexia x Reader

WARNING: Cheating, lying, lots of unfaithfulness, alcohol consumption, ALL PURELY FICTIONAL!, potentially shitty google translated spanish

Summary: Your relationship with Ona gets messy when you see her team-mate and more importantly your ex for the first time in 2 years. With no closure, pent-up frustration and a night of stolen glances, is your toxic relationship with Barca's captain really all in the past?

Tags: Exes, fingering, semi-public, mirror sex, bathroom sex, Top!Alexia x Bottom!Reader, possessiveness, begging, light degradation

You stared, dazed, at your disheveled reflection in the mirror. Cheeks still flushed, fucked out hair, puffed up lips and lustful eyes that gave it all away. With everything that had just transpired within these bathroom walls, betrayal and infidelity might as well be plastered on your forehead and oh my god if you were to walk out like this-

Fuck! Your legs were on the brink of giving out, knees trembling and doing little to support your current state. You hissed silently under your breath, gnawing at your bottom lip, your eyes closing as you silently rode the aftershocks of intoxicating pleasure that had you clawing at the sink minutes earlier. You stared at yourself again, her lingering touch still tormenting your being.

Ona would know. Everyone would know. This would be the death of you as you knew it... and that cocky little bitch would revel in it. Despite knowing damn well that she caused this, conquering you entirely and shamelessly in a tiny ass public restroom. She'd do more than relish in the idea of how easily your body complied and eagerly answered her touch. In fact. She wouldn't let you hear the end of it.

A smile crept on your lips at the thought and you had half a mind to hit your head against the sink for it.

"Fucking Putellas..." the words nearly a chuckle from your mouth.

You tried your best to compose yourself, letting the water run from the faucet as you focused on the cold sensation trickling down your hands. Just breathe. You could do this. You'd touch up your make up, comb out your hair, fix up this dress and don on your underwe-...Where the fuck...??? You tore yourself away from the sink, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The floor? No. The sink? No. Behind the door? No. The sudden realization sent your searches to a halt, launching at your bag and rummaging through it to find your phone.

Y/N: [ARE U SERIOUS!!??] - sent Do Not Answer- A. Putellas.: [Quien es este?] Y/N: [Alexia- I am not kidding. Bring them back! NOW!!] - sent

The text bubbles appeared, then ... nothing. She was mocking you.

Y/N: [NOW!!] Y/N: [please!] Do Not Answer- A. Putellas.: [Me encanta cuando suplicas ;)]

"No." Turning off your phone, you turned back to confront yourself in the mirror. "Do not go there. Do not give in."

"Act unaffected. That's all you have to do." you demanded, gaze fixated on your now slightly more presentable appearance. And as your subconscious triggered a replay of what had just happened, you bit down on your tongue hard enough to not let out a moan from the mere thought.

*** hours earlier...

The venue was littered with an array of Barcelona girls drowning in red and blue lighting as obnoxiously loud music and decor filtered into all areas of the room. Bodies pressed up against bodies, and even with drink in hand, you were barely drunk enough to find any of this remotely exciting. Entertaining that thought, you took another drawn out sip of your 3rd? 4th? Glass of champagne before tuning back into reality. No, the only thing keeping you sane was her. The way her smile reached to her eyes and the warmth of her giggle as she chatted with her teammates, fingers entwined in your own. You’d be lying if you said she wasn't the only reason you had even come tonight. As Ona's girlfriend of 2 years, she had invited you as her plus one to Barcelona's night out after winning the Champions League. Usually, you would find a way to make yourself conveniently unavailable.

The reason for that awful truth now met your eyes across the room. Alexia. You took your time in dissecting her appearance, having not laid eyes on her for years. At least in person. Her outfit consisted of a soft white silk top, covered by a dark suit jacket and paired with a matching set of black formal pants that accentuated her height, the shirt exposing just enough to highlight her toned figure. One thing about Alexia was that she knew how to dress and clearly tonight was no exception.

Much like you, she was stood beside some other barca girls. You could make out some familiar faces from the years past when your presence was frequent at these kinds of things. Seemingly becoming distracted from the conversation, Alexia's gaze was trained on yours, her cool eyes lingering for a second longer than necessary. They contained a hint of something unrecognizable. She seemed...almost sorry. Guilty? Remorseful? Nostalgic? Whatever it was, your psycho-analyzations got cut short, Alexia offering nothing but a simple head nod of acknowledgement before returning to her conversation. You let your mind drift to a place you hadn’t been or rather let yourself go to in the longest time. Your relationship. Your past. Your relationship of 2 years was a while and whilst you had started dating Ona shortly after her, so much of your situation with the Barcelona captain was...unresolved. All-consuming. Honestly, that was part of the appeal but it became unsustainable. So you went no contact after the split.

Which…was now difficult that Barcelona had won. Not only was this a feat in women's soccer itself but it was also Ona's first big trophy win with her childhood club, so you knew being here and supporting her achievements meant a lot. Champagne in the opposite hand, you slipped your arm around Ona's waist, pulling her in closer as you two made conversation with her fellow defenders. Her skin was soft under your hand and though you shot a smile in her direction, her attentions were fully drawn to her teammates. Even then, you couldn't help but focus on how familiar all of this felt. How weird it was to see all these people again. The same festivities. The same alcohol. Only a new girl to draw you back to the present. Soft skin under your palm rather than a firm hand against yours. A long dress instead of a shirtless jacket. Maybe it was something in your drink that made you reminiscent, drawing your eyes across to her once more.

Her eyes were quicker, already laid upon you and you could feel as your heart raced at the gesture. Alexia's gaze was now somewhat darkened by the blaring lights in the room as she sat on a lounge, legs slightly spread apart and posture relaxed as an... extremely beautiful redhead you did not recognise sat in her lap, leaning against her chest. Shit. Reluctantly, you watched as her eyes drifted away from yours, her mouth coming closer to the redhead's ear, whispering something so abundantly hilarious, it sent the other woman's head flying back with laughter. A shiver ran down your spine at the familiar memory of those lips ghosting over your skin. In an attempt to flush away the sickly feeling in your stomach, you took another sip of champagne, ruminating in the burn as it travelled down your throat.

Jealousy? No. No this wasn't jealousy. It just kind of stinged to watch your ex so close to an attractive woman, that was all. Especially when this shit was happening directly in front of you. In fact, you were glad. Relieved even. This was just her round about way of showing you that she's moved on and, hey, at least it eased the awkward tension in the room. Even then, you watched as her eyes travelled down to where your hand met Ona, biting down on the inside of her cheek until they caught yours again. At that, she quickly dropped her gaze to the floor before taking another drawn-out sip of her drink, quick to replace the empty glass in her hand with another. You tried to return your attention to the people in front of you, brushing it off as a mere slip-up and attempting to ignore the way every nerve in your body was set alight at mere seconds of her observations.

By the end of the first hour, you caught sight of her again, leant up on the wall across the room, arms crossed over her chest and a full glass in hand, this time, with no redhead in sight. Your eyes searched the floor when you saw the other woman now talking to another Barcelona girl, getting awfully cozy. Alexia on the other hand was less than comfortable, evident in her tense shoulders and the way her tongue rested against her cheek. You laughed to yourself, recognising her obviously foul, drunk mood. Fucking classic. The second "la reina" didn't get her way, she acted exactly like a child throwing a fit. That thirst for control quite obviously made her a great captain but on the other hand a shit partner.

You tried your best to suppress the sense of smugness growing inside you , glad you were no longer the one dealing with any of it. Without realizing, you turned your head to Ona, still sat beside you. Nuzzling into the warmth of her neck, you stared up at her dotingly, ultimately relieved you were with someone who actually cared. Catching her attention, the defender turned her head towards you.

"Hey, you feeling okay? Wanna go home early?" her words were barely more than a whisper.

In response, you simply shook your head, not moving from the familiarity of her embrace. A warm grin was all she offered before placing a soft kiss on your forehead and unbeknownst to either of you, sparking a full - fledged war across the room.

As the night carried on, Alexia's lingering looks became longer. More careless, turning almost predatory. Initially you mistook the unfamiliarity in her eyes for anger but as she found you again, gaze steady, darkened and with no sign of shying away, you could not deny how painfully obvious that look was. That look was your entire history. Alexia had always released her frustration on her partners. Never abusively of course but instead through hours of endless domination. Relentlessness. Pushing you to the edge over and over until you broke. Making you beg for release. Doing anything and everything possible to get her back in that position of power. You knew it all too well. Suddenly the urge to hit yourself with a pound of bricks became increasingly apparent as you noticed how wet you were getting, the memories playing back in your mind. What the fuck was wrong with you.

Ona was right beside you. That fact in itself spoke volumes as you tried to think of the last time you had focused on anything other than Alexia this whole night, a burning shame entering your face, gladly concealed by the dim lighting. You and Alexia were long done. No, she had a girlfriend, a partner, someone. Whoever that redhead was to her. This wasn't and this couldn't be directed towards you.

And so you tried. You tried so hard to focus on anything else, digging your nails into the palm of your hands to try calm the thrumming ache growing inside your body. But her presence was fucking magnetic. You could tell the alcohol was getting to her by the way her eyes dragged down your body, a slight smirk playing at the corner of her mouth as she bit her lower lip softly. They became mixed with something deeper. A need. An almost instinctual desire. And you could tell the alcohol was getting to you by how you kept meeting her looks. And how your body responded to her scrutiny, the ache in your core increasing by the second. You hated how you had to forcibly tear your eyes away. You could tell she was enjoying this, making you flustered. Frustrated. Squirming from mere eye contact. Like a pawn underneath her stupid fucking finger as your thread of honour broke by the second.

You needed to look away and more importantly you needed this to stop. But as your inhibitions became hazier and that feeling... Those eyes on you, waiting patiently.

Don't. Don't. Don't. Please don't. No. Don't.

Against all rationale and self restraint, for a millisecond, you locked eyes over your shoulder. Tilting her head, she simply offered a flash of teeth in response before turning away from you. You could have swore the room actually slowed as she rolled her shoulders and slid the jacket down her spine to reveal her back. You analyzed her tensing muscles. The tattoos that littered her skin. Fuck. Her back her back her back her back her back her back. You could barely form a sentence let alone a thought. If you hadn't been together for so long, she may have been able to feign innocence but you knew. She did this on purpose. Your mind replayed that image, seconds turning into minutes as her muscles tensed and flexed with every small movement of her arm, her soft hair falling so perfectly along her skin. What you'd to do be underneath all of that again. Turning back around, she looked at you over her shoulder with a shit eating grin and a small wink.

No. ha. No, fuck this. You shot up from your seat, excusing yourself to the bathroom as casually as you could muster and basically sprinting to the door. Every last part of you felt like it was on fire. Anger? Guilt? Frustration? Horniness? Beats you. As you looked up, Alexia was already on her feet, practically pacing across the room. Whatever remorse was present in her eyes moments ago had burned. Fuck everyone else in that room, to her? You might as well be cornered prey. Palms on the door handle you slammed open the bathroom, turning to shut it when...

"No." you uttered. Alexia towered over you in the door frame, hands blockading you from exiting as she slowly walked in and shut the door behind you both. Locking it. That same fucking smirk still on her lips.

"Alexia. I am not playing along with whatever game you think this is." You were practically shaking from all the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Calmate. I'm just here to wash my hands." Taken aback by the ease of her voice, you stood away as she leant over the sink, back on full show. You tried to stop yourself but as your gaze scanned over her physique, you felt another rush of heat to your core. You saw as Alexia bit down the smile threatening to rise, catching your eye in the mirror. God, she was so hot infuriating when she got cocky.

"So, Ona huh?" She questioned, still looking down into the sink basin. The sudden mention of your girlfriend's name formed a pit in your stomach which you tried your best to calm.

You scoffed slightly, attempting to mask the sweat forming along your hands. "Like you care. Seemed pretty comfortable with that redhead all up on you."

She looked up at you in the mirror reflection, eyebrow raised in challenge. "You wish you were instead?" Your breath stopped. Why did it feel so wrong to say no.

"I'm joking." She looked back down and you felt your heart drop. Why did it drop? You watched intently as she turned off the tap and shook her hands dry, placing them against the edge of the sink. You watched the way her shoulders flexed, supporting her weight, her stature built to a tee.

"You always have been a social climber though." Her words came out as a slight chuckle, an almost amused expression playing out on her face in the mirror.

"What the fuck is that meant to mean." The forcefulness of your words surprised even you.

"You know, someone who has a reputation for trying to score whoever will get you the most attention."

"I know the definition of the word Alexia. Why are you doing this? What's with the sudden attention to my personal life." You kept looking at her in the mirror in an attempts to force her gaze back to yours but she didn't budge. God, you felt pathetic standing here, just admiring her stupid muscular build.

"Just expected you to be with someone a little less...soft. Can't really see a girl like her spitting in your mouth." The corners of her lips lifted, attempting to set you off in any way possible.

"Shut up."

Noticing your riled up reaction, she pressed harder. "No, no, I get it. You always had a thing for taller girls who... oh wait."

"Alexia-"

Her voice became slightly aggressive, a mocking tone now present in her words. "Sorry, you are actually with her cause she's so sweet right? Is that why your eyes have been on me the whole night instead of her."

You grabbed her arm steadily, turning her against the counter.

"Shut the fuck up." Your words contained a hint of a smile, becoming muffled as you pulled her face down to yours, pressing your lips together in a heated kiss. You moved your lips softly against hers, feeling 2 years of tension in your body slowly melt away.

She teared away from you almost immediately, staring at you with furrowed brows. "What the fuck are you doing? I'm with someone." Her words sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, caught on how to even respond as you looked at her alarmed gaze. You were a mixture of mortified, confused and shocked at what the fuck you just pulled. More than that, you were still craving another taste of her.

"Shit. Fuck. Sorry I-"

A smug grin flashed across her face before she spoke again. "I'm kidding, I just love seeing you flustered."

At that she grabbed a fistful of your hair, causing you to let out a moan against her mouth as she pushed you roughly up against the tiled wall, deepening the kiss. Her strength was nothing if not attractive, her frame towering over you and keeping you cornered as she explored your mouth. Nothing about her was slow or careful. She threw caution to the wind, biting down on your bottom lip before forcing her tongue inside to brush against your own, making you whimper as her hand remained tight in your hair, forcing your neck back. You could taste the remainder of alcohol on her lips and it was intoxicating, her mouth savoring every part of you and leaving you breathless. She tasted so Hot. Sweet. Perfect. You dragged your hands across her broad shoulders before sliding them up to her neck, attempting to reel her in even closer. You felt her smile against your mouth at your desperation, clearly enjoying the way you so easily submitted to her. And you gladly did. You let her hold you like you were hers and hers only. You let her force her hips into yours, pinning you in place as she worked your mouth. You let her hands roam freely along your body, setting your skin on fire as she found your waist and settled against your ass, firmly gripping it in her hands. You tried to get a breath in but every attempt was only met with more intensity from Alexia, sliding her tongue against yours with a hunger that lingered along every inch of your body.

Finally pulling away to catch her breath, Alexia's eyes raced between your own and back to your lips, chest rising and falling. Tightening her grip in your hair, she angled your chin up further, allowing her to gain full access to your neck. Using her other hand to steady herself against the wall, she slowly lowered her head down, breath hot against your skin. Instead of saying anything she placed her lips against your neck, sending a wave of electricity through you as she began mixing the softness of her lips with the harsh marks she left on you, blurring the lines between pain and pleasure. If tonight was any evidence, she was extremely territorial over what was hers, making sure to sink her teeth just enough to leave a bruise, the sharp spike of pain making you softly whimper, your hand still keeping her head steady against you. She moved her hands along your waist, trailing upwards to your ribs and coming back down, soaking in the feeling of you so helpless against her. Her touch was so familiar. The perfect mix of rough and right which left you only wanting more and nothing else. No one else. That thought caused your throat to dry. You swallowed before speaking through labored breaths, Alexias lips unrelenting from your skin.

"We shouldn't be doing this... we can't." The words didn't come out of you easily, everything about her was so...excruciatingly addicting. The way she tasted. The way she knew your body like the back of her hand. The way she looked up at you then.

"Yeah?" She spoke lowly against you. You felt another smile spread across her face as she ran her hands further down your thighs, before dragging her fingertips ever so slowly up the inside of your legs. You were definitely shaking. You felt every breath and inflection on your skin as she spoke again "Tell me to stop." Your head tilted back against the wall, head spinning and lips unable to even move. "Alexia-" is all you managed to breathe out.

"Hm?", she moved up to your jaw this time, her kisses more careless and passionate as she dragged her fingertips up more. Higher. Higher. Higher- You let out a pathetically loud whimper that you could tell she was more than satisfied with, evident in the small laugh she let out. Every slight touch of her fingers left your body annoyingly sensitive, the longing in your cunt only growing. Teasingly, she stopped right before the edge of your underwear, caressing your skin and moving her head to look at you as she waited for your response. "Tell. Me. To. Stop."

"No, Don't..." Your words were more of a sigh than anything else.

She lifted an eyebrow at you, moving her fingertips back down your thigh. You didn't even need her to speak to know what it meant. She wanted you to work for it. Beg to have her fingers inside you.

"Please...fuck...Don't Stop." Your words were breathy but you didn't care anymore. You were practically dripping and you needed her fingers, mouth, fucking anything to feel release.

"Good." She smirked again before guiding her fingers over your underwear that barely kept you decent, feeling as you soaked through the fabric.

"Fuck, you are drenched. This wet over a quick make out?"

"I've been like this the whole night." You met her eyes as you said that, staring up at her shamelessly.

She let out a soft groan at your words before running her hands underneath your underwear, feeling your warmth against her fingers. She looked back up at you, watching as your breathing became shallow, eyes closed and eyebrows scrunched together, before continuing to focus on her hands. She collected the wetness from your entrance before guiding her fingers back to trace painfully slow circles over your clit, alternating her pattern frequently enough to not give you any proper stimulation. Your breath and desperation only increased.

She leant into you again, biting down against your ear lobe, eliciting another whine. Her voice was low as she spoke. "It's been so long... you might have to remind you how you like to take it." Her fingers began to gradually circle faster around your clit, pressing down with just enough pressure to make your head spin. "Was it like this?" In response you could only move your hips down against her, attempting to increase the friction by any means possible. Noticing your actions, she simply pulled her hand away, causing you to let out a soft cry.

"Or... was it like this?" She rubbed a finger through your slick folds before pushing inside, curling it against your g-spot and slowly sliding back down your walls. The simple gesture of her fingers inside you caused your eyes to roll back in your head as you once again slumped back against the wall in frustration.

"Fuck, Alexia. Just do something." As soon as the words left your mouth, you wished you had bit your tongue. Cautiously gazing up at her, her expression was what could only be described as amused though you were almost certain it was not sincere. She shook her head slightly in disbelief before putting on another shit eating grin.

"So brave..." Before you could even think to say anything she unceremoniously spun you back to the sink basin, keeping your back against her chest as her hands steadied you against it. You looked back at her over your shoulder, more confused than anything else.

"What are yo-"

She used her hand to angle your chin forcefully back to the mirror. "Shut up and grip the counter."

You did as you were told. Frankly, you were in no position to argue when you were ready to do just about anything to satisfy the building need inside you. You watched the mirror as Alexia hiked up your dress to your hips, exposing your underwear. Running her hands along your back, she moved the zipper fully down before tugging the hem of it upwards. "Off." She demanded next to your ear. You wasted no time pulling it over your head in one swoop and discarding it to the floor, a pink flush appearing in your cheeks as you remembered your decision earlier that day to not wear a bra for comfort purposes, regretting it more than anything as you watched how Alexia took her time to run her eyes up and down the length of your body in the reflection. When she caught your eye again, her smirk only grew at your flustered appearance, which if anything, only made you more flushed. Slowly she began to drag your underwear down your legs, gaze intent on watching just how wet you had gotten for her. Even the simple graze of her fingers down your legs felt like enough to make you explode. You stepped out of them awkwardly from your compromising position, feeling as the cold air hit you.

Her veined hands wrapped around the base of your neck, thumb acting to angle your head firmly back to the mirror. "Keep your eyes on mine yeah?" Her words were paired by her thumb softly caressing your jaw though her firm grip on your neck reminded you of her true intentions. You looked at your reflection then, namely the way your hair had lost any essence of normality thanks to Alexia's forcefulness, but also at how easily you had let yourself end up in this current position. You were on full display in front of her with nothing left to spare and she hadn't done anything but remove her jacket.

Suddenly, your scrutiny was interrupted by the feeling of her knee prying the back of your legs open as her other arm curved around the front of your stomach gliding further down. Her two fingertips ran against your folds, going lower to toy you with your entrance. Your hands gripped the counter tighter as you struggled to keep your eyes from folding over in pure bliss. You felt as your arousal pooled along her fingers.

"Don't get that shit on me." She met your eyes in the mirror as she warned and you knew better than to question her.

You could barely ruminate in the feeling before she slipped both digits in, causing your mouth to fall agape, eyes fixated on her as you let out a tortured gasp. Despite how ready you were, the lack of preparation you got was enough to make you clench around her. Slowly she pulled her fingers out before pumping into you again, making sure to toy with your g spot as she curled up inside you. She knew exactly how and where you wanted her, continuing to fuck you slowly, as she hit every single angle which made you arch your back into her chest. She moved her hand from your chin to caress the curve of your shoulders and down your chest, taking your left nipple in between her fingers before pinching it, sending a spike of pain through your nerves whilst simultaneously causing a flood of heat to your core. She continued to rub you between her fingers as her other hand moved in and out of you, painstakingly steady. As she curled into you again, you arched off her, which she quickly undid, forcing her arm back to push you back further onto her.

"Alexia-" you whimpered, the movement of her fingers filling you again and again.

"Words." She bit back, gaze darkened.

"God, you feel so good." You didn't even recognise your voice, high-pitched and filled with a desperation that was embarrassingly obvious. You tried to grind down against her in order to quicken the pace, causing her palm to press against your clit with every move and sending your head backwards as you bared your neck.

"I know." Her voice was more breathy than before, though she tried hard to not show it. You could tell that watching you fuck yourself on nothing but her fingers was enough to stroke that massive ego of hers as well as stir a building need to ruin you.

It was when she began to thrust in and out of you with a devastating pace that you felt all semblance of composure slip. Your hands gripped the counter tighter as your knees shook from the sensation, barely holding onto your weight. Noticing your struggle, you watched as her arms flexed in the mirror, supporting your body and keeping you pressed against her. Your eyes opened to find her own in the mirror, glancing at you, half-lidded, gaze burning with lust and control. You watched the way her hair fell across her shoulder, the way her muscles tensed as she worked her hands, the way she smiled at you when you found her eyes again. A strangled, louder moan escaped your lips, the mix of her composure and the pace of her fingers sending you into complete overdrive.

She lent close to your ear, slowing her fingers a bit, forcing you to pay attention to her words.

"Unless you want your little girlfriend to hear how much you love my fingers in you, be fucking quiet." You gave her a soft nod, biting your lip as you met her stare in the mirror. You couldn't help but feel your heart drop at the mention of Ona. This was so wrong. But you couldn't deny how much you wanted this. Needed this. Needed her. Just tonight. So you let yourself drown in the feeling. You let yourself slip through the cracks as she lent back and moved inside you faster. And when she slipped a 3rd finger in, the line between pain and pleasure became so hazy, you could barely keep yourself up.

"Wait...Fuck," You tried to plead.

"Just take it." Her voice was low and demanding, using her spare hand to grip your waist. You bit down on your lip once more, trying to contain your cries. You tried your best to relax around her but against her harsh speed, it barely made a difference. A tear rolled down your cheek, vision clouding from sheer overstimulation but even then, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer, exacerbated by her palm pressing harder on your clit, circling with about the same speed. Your mouth dropped open slightly but you managed to bite your tongue, silently taking every last part of her fingers.

She tapped your leg then with her spare hand. "Lift." You tried your best, limbs weak as you moved your knee up to the counter, feeling yourself open up even more. Using this new angle to her advantage, Alexia began moving into you harder, sending your head into a spin.

Just as she did a knock came from outside, the door knob rattling as the door started to shake in its place. Your head snapped to it, breath stilling. A few Spanish voices was all you could make out from the other side, nothing but a distant mumble. But Alexia didn’t stop. Instead, she simply kicked her leg out, slamming the door back into its locked position, her fingers refusing to cease as she spoke back. "Ocupada." The feeling of Alexia's teeth sinking into your shoulder blade sent your head flying back to the mirror as you cried out, the pain sharp, sending heat through your body.

"Watch..." She spoke against your skin, gripping your chin in her hands, this time unwavering as you drew towards your high. "Or I stop."

You were a fucking mess. Splayed out in a borderline pornographic way, your forehead had a slight sheen of sweat, hair sticking to your scalp as your face grew more than a little lewd, pupils blown out, mouth agape and lips still swollen from before. Your moans had reduced to nothing more than incoherent mumbles of yes and fuck, her occasional, low, spanish grunts filling your ears as she watched you break. You held her eyes in the mirror as you rocked your hips against her hand, chasing your high and watching as the smirk plastered on her face only grew as you became more and more wrecked. You would call it cock-drunk but all it took was her stupid fucking hands. You could feel the pressure in your core building with every move and you weren't sure whether you could hold out for much longer. Letting out a soft keen, you dropped most of your weight to her arms.

"I'm so fucking close" you mumbled.

"Yeah? You wanna come?" Her gaze was still steady on yours, magnetic and dominating.

"Mhm."

"Ya sabes qué hacer." The smile in her words more obvious now.

"Please...I-" your words were cut short by a moan as she curled her fingers against your walls. "Fuck. Please let me come." You managed.

"Mmm who gets you this fucking wet?" Her voice was so mocking and you couldn't care less.

The answer was simple. "You."

"¿Quién sabe cómo hacerte sentir tan bien?"

"You."

"Say my name." Her words trailed off into a strangled breath.

"Alexia. Please." You whimpered.

"Again." Her tone was harsher now, her eyes closed in ecstasy as she gripped you further back onto her, listening to the way you keened her name.

"Alexia..." You moaned slightly louder.

"Slut." Her words contained a hint of a chuckle as she grabbed your hair into a ponytail, forcing your neck back.

She pressed down harder and harder, moving at a destructive pace against you. You held her eyes as she curled against your g spot, searing pleasure throughout your heat and sending you over the edge. Hot, white ecstasy coursed through your body, your weight fully dependent on her arms as the throbbing in your cunt quickly turned into oversensitivity, You felt your eyes brim with tears, causing her to slow her hand and pull out of you, wiping her fingers on your thigh.

She barely gave you a second to come down from your high, spinning you around forcefully to face her. She looked deeply into your eyes, angling your head up as she moved closer to you. Wanting nothing more than to taste her soft lips after her brutality, your eyes fluttered closed. You waited desperately. When the lack of anything on your mouth became more apparent, you opened your eyes to find her still staring down at you, inches away, smirking as she ran her fingers on your jaw. Without another word Alexia turned on her heels and exited the bathroom door, leaving you here. Alone. And completely undone.

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