#rosekiller x reader

[ervotica]

27. kisses for cover at a party with poly!rosekiller. reader goes to evan to get a guy off you, he makes out with you, barty sees and is like "yay i wanna join" and then just devours you

ahhh i love them! poly!rosekiller x fem!reader, college!au ✩ 900 words

You slip beneath the handsome guy at the pub with practiced ease, dipping under his outstretched arm in an attempt to shake your unwelcome admirer of the evening.

To his credit, he doesn't flinch but rather curls his arm round the nape of your neck, tucking you into his shoulder in one fluid movement until you're mostly obscured. He dips his head low enough to murmur in your ear; his voice is like smooth, dark honey.

"Who you hiding from, lovely?"

"This bloke's been following me round all night," you admit, voice high and breathy. "He's still looking, I think. Will you- will you pretend to know me until he goes away?"

He grins and the sight almost blinds you; crinkled eyes and a soft smattering of freckles across his high cheekbones. Miles and miles of brown skin and a curly blonde mop that sits high on his head.

He really is lovely.

And if you'd met him under different circumstances, you'd be nervous for an entirely different reason.

"Consider it done, okay? No need to fret."

He tips his head lower until his nose brushes yours. You hold your breath in anticipation.

"Let's give the prick a show, yeah?"

Your insides flush white-hot as you wait for his lips to make contact. It's a languid sort of kiss, building in intensity as your mystery man flattens his tongue against your bottom lip. He palms at your neck, angling your face upward until you have no choice but to part your lips and let him lick into your mouth, soft and slow and deep.

You push up on your toes - encouraging him closer - and you feel the corners of his mouth tip up even as he indulges your wordless request.

The kiss ebbs and he pulls back. You bite your lip and try to pretend that he didn't just give you the best kiss of your life.

"I'm sorry," you say, cadence twinged with embarrassment. "I don't even know your name."

He smooths the pad of his thumb over your pencil lined eye and smiles, unperturbed. His expression is softer this time, something akin to fondness lingering in his eyes.

"Evan," he murmurs. "And you?"

"Y/N."

A weight settles at your back and you go rigid, pushing back into Evan's space with a startled gasp.

"It's okay, lovely girl," he placates with ease, as though he's known you for much longer than a few minutes. "This is Barty."

This boy is taller – sharper round the edges than Evan, but no less beautiful. His face is shrouded by thick, dark hair that contrasts so heavily with his pale skin it almost looks unnatural.

"Hi, pretty," he coos. "Oh, she is gorgeous, Ev. The gorgeous ones always love you."

"Hi," you almost whisper. You're suddenly even shyer under Barty's fervent gaze, red-hot at his rapt attention.

He folds at the waist and twirls one of your loose curls between his fingers. From here you can smell his breath, mint and vodka and something sweeter that lingers on the tip of his tongue.

He steps closer, right into your space until you're sandwiched snugly between the two of them.

"Do I get a kiss?" he asks, borderline pleading. Intense, for a man you've just met.

Your throat works around a thick swallow and you look down at your feet, suddenly overwhelmingly shy.

"Um..."

"Don't be jealous, babe," Evan placates, a lithe hand massaging teeny circles into your shoulder.

"I find a pretty little thing snogging my boyfriend and I'm supposed to not be jealous?"

You balk. Your eyes gloss over, and wet and wide and painfully apologetic.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't know. I'm really sorry."

"Shh." Evan loops an arm round your waist and tugs you neatly into his side. "He's teasing. He just wants a kiss, too, if you're willing to give it."

You can't deny that Barty is beautiful – all long, milky limbs and dark features. You nod tentatively.

"Okay."

Evan plants his chin in the juncture of your neck as Barty leans in, long fingers roaming the expanse of your waist with a fervour you've never felt before. Your stomach flips.

Barty's kiss is far more fervid. All tongues and clashing teeth as he angles his head to get more of your mouth on his– as though he wants to eat you whole.

You whine into his mouth when his hand settles on the dip of your spine and presses down, forcing you to arch up into him. There's not a part of you that isn't being touched in some way.

Especially not when Evan trails his lips along your pulse point and begins diligently sucking a bruise under your jaw.

Barty gets you by the nape of your neck and probes his tongue further into your mouth. He's persistent, flicking his tongue behind your front teeth until you gasp and open your mouth wider to grant him more access.

"There's a good girl," Evan says, voice rumbling against your back.

The trail of spit that stretches and bows between the two of you when Barty pulls back to get a good look at you has you feeling faint.

"Can we keep her, Ev?" Barty nuzzles his nose against the soft swell of your cheek.

"What do you say, angel? Can we keep you?"

You're too dazed to answer with more than a nod, curling your own arms around Barty's waist to keep him pressed against you.

[ocean-fox-blogs]

rosekiller x reader

"He's such an idiotic loser." Evan mentioned as you all watched Sirius do his own thing, minding his own business.

"I think he's cool." You stated with your eyes watching the said boy you were gossiping about. Barty slowly lifted his head to side eye the boy before looking back down at you.

"You do?"

You nodded with a smile. "Yes," You often find yourself thinking that Sirius Black was cool, he became everything he said he would. Everything his family was not, it had rarely happened in pureblood families. That is why he was so cool to you, it was mere awe that you had for the boy.

This time Evan had something to say. "Why? Perhaps your mum and dad did not raise you to the best of their abilities, that boy is blood traitor."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "That boy has a name, ya know? He might be a blood traitor but he is still a Black, you should respect him."

"Respect him? Sirius Black, the blood traitor? Don't make me laugh." Evan huffed out a fake laugh after saying so. Barty only grinned ear to ear at that.

"There's not a soul who respects him."

"I respect him." You admitted rather quickly. Too quickly for their liking.

"You know were jealous boys, why are you being this way?" Barty fake pouted, clinging to you as if you were his lifeline.

You swatted him away. "Merlin, you're acting as if I said I was in love with him. All I said was that he was cool."

"He's not though, if you want cool - look at us. We are the coolest youll ever get." Barty once again was grinning like an idiot. You smiled at him.

"I don't want anyone else," You placed a kiss on his cheek, one that Evan frowned at.

"I get kisses first, we have talked about this. Honestly woman, you call yourself a good girlfriend." Evan tapped his cheek, impatiently.

A smirk formed on your face. "I don't think I can do that, rosie. I was raised to not kiss boys before marriage, I wouldn't want you to think my parents aren't doing things right by me again."

He quickly snatched you towards him. "I was only playing," He puckered his lips before sighing. "Barty! She's not kissing me!"

"Oh right, tell on me to our boyfriend. Real mature."

"Kiss and make up." Barty put on an authoritative voice, but it only seemed ridiculous in your eyes.

"I have nothing to make up for." You could feel Evans patience growing thin - it would scare most, though all it did was amuse you.

"Kiss me!" He demanded.

"Hmm, no - I don't think so. Besides, that is not how you ask someone especially a lady like myself."

"Ughh, kiss me!"

"No."

"Just kiss him, please love. He is going to throw a tantrum all day if not." Barty was trying to reason with you. You were not having any of it, a cheeky smile was all you could muster with a shake of your head.

"Perhaps, Sirius would kiss me maybe even nicely too-"

Their eyes widened in shock. "I'll kill him." Evan warned, glaring at you now.

"I'll do more than that." Barty added with a glare of his own.

"I think two jealous boyfriends has got to be the best thing a girl could have. It might be better if it was Sirius and James though-" You chuckled out the last part, knowing they would take the bait.

"That's it!"

[novvabee]

Busy Woman ☎️📚🧪

i've had this in my drafts for so long and finally finished it. i think its really cute.

summary: hogwarts university! AU, you're a booked and busy tutor for a few boys who are obviously crushing on you.

CW: nothing really this is fluff, could be suggestive, school and grades

word count: 4k

“Sorry I’m late,” you said, rushing into the study room in the cramped university library, “my last session ran a bit over.” You set your heavy bag full of textbooks and homework down on one of the desks.

Sirius looked up from his doodles and smiled. “Oh that’s fine, love, I haven’t been waiting long.” You knew that probably wasn’t a lie. Sirius had a tendency to show up late to your tutoring sessions anyway, so he probably was only waiting a few minutes even though your session with Regulus went over by 15 minutes.

He kept insisting he didn’t understand the equations for your chemistry class, but his test scores said different. He was just being paranoid, he knew the material and he was obviously going to ace his upcoming midterm.

“Sirius,” you said, a scolding tone that was often reserved just for him, “how many times do I have to tell you, don’t call me that.”

Sirius gave you a fake look of confusion, leaning back in his chair and placing his pen behind his ear. “Call you what? Love?” he said with a knowing smirk.

You rolled your eyes, used to these kinds of antics with him. “Yes,” you said with finality, “it's unprofessional. I’m your tutor and you’re my… pupil.”

“Pupil.” Sirius repeated back to you, nodding. “And what if I wanted to be more than your pupil?” His saccharine smile grew wider. You answered him by rolling your eyes yet again, pulling out a study sheet from your bag and slapping it on the table.

“Oh come on, can I at least have your number?” He batted his pretty silver eyes at you. 

You never gave your personal number to the people you tutored, it was the school’s policy that you use their website to communicate, and you just didn’t feel like being bombarded with stupid homework questions while you were relaxing at home. So, struggling students were supposed to schedule an appointment with you through the tutoring portal. This allowed you to receive a form of credit, each session was $45 for an hour of tutoring. Tutors could either receive the money directly, or it could go towards things like tuition or room and board. You decided to accept the latter, needing to pay off your tuition. But being the star student you were,  all the courses you tutored added up and took a large chunk of the sum off for you. 

In order to become a tutor for this program, you needed to pass the class with an A- or higher. You were tutoring 9 classes; history, psychology, sociology, chemistry, biology, writing, gender studies, philosophy, and statistics. Cha-ching.

You had a ton of students you tutored. Ranging from athletes who were desperate to get a passing grade, to delinquents whose parents were paying you and forcing their children to get better grades, to overachievers who signed up for too many classes and were having trouble keeping up. You tutored them all, some were one and done sessions, others were scheduled weekly appointments. You had a decent amount of weekly appointments, one of these being Sirius. 

But you knew what Sirius was after, and he wasn’t the only one. There were a small few who were really just trying to get close to you, a few who were bold enough to make a move on their tutor.

“Sirius,” you sighed, “I’ll give you my number when you get a 100 on a test.”

“So there’s a chance?” Sirius smiled. No, there was no chance, you had seen his grades and his highest was sitting at 75%. You rolled your eyes and pointed at the worksheet for him to start on. He got to it, but was only at it for about 5 minutes before sitting back and groaning.

“Who cares about these old dead people and what they thought?” He huffed. Well that was one way to describe philosophy…

“Well you may not, but your professor does.” you chuckled. “And if you wanna pass, you should at least pretend to as well. Besides, you were the one who signed up for Ethical Theory.”

Ethical Theory was an upper 3000 level class known for its impossible tests and hard-ass teacher. This class had fell the toughest of academics and almost claimed you as well, you barely managed to pass high enough to become a tutor, well you probably could have tutored the class no matter what, you were the only person to pass with an A at all, your entire class sat at an average of a C. That and the professor seemed to love you, he often gave you feedback on your papers in person and would call on you constantly in class. Either way, you were the only viable option to help others succeed in this class. 

“I thought it was going to be easy..” he shot back quietly. 

The door to the small study room swung open and a tall mass waltzed in. you looked over your shoulder and smiled to see that James had joined you. James fell into two of the categories of students you tutored; an athlete barely scraping by, and one that wanted to ask you out. But you never really minded tutoring James, he was always so kind and never pushed the idea too hard, unlike Sirius who mentions taking you out or getting your number every session, even coming up with stupid philosophical questions which always alluded to you two dating. 

“Oh, hi!” James beamed. “I went to our normal study spot, sorry I’m late.”

“No need to apologize.” You smiled back at him.

Sirius was, however, not smiling. He looked between the two of you, confused.

“Uh, who are you?” He asked, a slight bite in his tone you’ve never heard.

“Sirius, this is James, he’s another student that I tutor.” you explained to him. James crossed the room and sat at the table right next to Sirius. Sirius was staring daggers at James, baffled at the intrusion.

“I thought this was a private session.” Sirius said.

“Right, well, I’ve kind of been a little booked up, so I had to combine some sessions together to fit them all in.” you clarified. And although that wasn’t an entire lie, it wasn’t the whole truth either.

You were busy, that wasn’t a lie, but you decided to hold a group study session with all students that fell into the ‘want to ask you out’ category. You thought that it would be easier to get them all done and out of the way that way you could spend more time focusing on the students who really needed the help or were serious about doing better. That and it would be easier to shoot them down all in one session rather than over the course of the entire week, or it would deter them to ask in front of the others entirely.

So, group sessions it was.

Sirius was still upset, but he couldn’t be mad at you nor your explanation, especially when you feigned innocence and used that sweet tone.

He rolled his eyes and continued on his worksheet.

“Thanks for bumping our session up, I have a test tomorrow and could use the extra study time.” James smiled. You smiled in return. James was struggling in his statistics class, one that you took only last semester, so it was fresh in your mind and easy to explain to him.

“Of course, I actually came up with a new study guide on probability.” You said, digging around in your bag for the notes and worksheet for him.

“Oh perfect,” James sighed. “That’ll be on the test tomorrow.”

Your head snapped up, were you really that good at predicting what was going on in that class?

“Really?” you asked.

“Probably.” James shrugged.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smirk at his lame joke. You rifled through your math folder and found the probability worksheet for him and slid it on his desk.

The door clicked open once again and in walked Remus.

Remus was a student that shocked you when he first signed up for your tutoring. You had seen him in multiple of your classes and knew that he wasn’t in need of a tutor, he often received some of the highest grades in your classes. His test scores never dipped, his papers were always well written, so you threw him into the ‘want to date’ category, and you were right. You caught his eye in lecture halls before he would smile and look away, he kept ‘forgetting’ a pen for class and asking you to borrow one, and he would always approach you and ask you what you thought the answers were when you were doing group work, valuing your opinion more than the others in his own group.

Remus quietly strolled in and set his bag down at one of the desks, skeptical.

“Hey Remus, I’ll be with you in one minute.” you said, finished getting James started before walking over to where Remus sat.

You heard Siris mumble under his breath, unamused, hating that another person was now intruding on his one on one time with him.

“So, what’ll it be today?” You asked expectedly.

Remus smirked and pulled a small stack of papers from his bag. You always got the feeling that Remus knew you knew he was into you, he had this quiet smoothness about him. It was both comforting and mysterious.

“I was hoping you could read over the first draft of my thesis.” He smiled.

You took the neatly clipped stack from his outstretched hands and looked over the cover page: The Impact of Parental Emotional Intelligence on Pro-Social Behaviour in Children and Adolescents. Jesus Christ, this was gonna be a long and hard read.

“You dont have to read it,” Remus chuckled, “I just need another set of eyes to look it over. I feel like I’ve read it so much that it doesn’t even make sense anymore.”

“I get what you mean,” you affirmed, “and of course I’ll read it, you might just need to give me a day or two, I'll make notes and hand it back, that alright?”

Remus nodded and pulled out a book, making it obvious that he didn’t need any further help, but he didn’t leave either…

Sirius eyed Remus who paid him no mind at all. 

“Um, Y/N,” James broke the silence. “What is a bell curve again?”

Remus snickered and covered his face with a book. You had half a mind to smack him, but that would be inappropriate and unprofessional. James was trying really hard, he was just… more athletically inclined than academically.

“Its the curve of a graph that’s shaped like a bell.” you explained simply. James nodded and went back to scribbling down answers to the worksheet.

The door flew open once more and the two of your most difficult students to tutor stumbled in. Barty flashed you a smile and Evan waved, finding a desk and propping his feet up, leaning back in his chair. Barty marched right up to you and stopped only an inch away, arms extended and standing expectantly, waiting for a hug. You just looked up at him. 

“Oh come on, treasure,” Barty whined, “you haven’t seen me all week! I know you missed me. Also, who are they?” He asked looking over your head at the three strangers in the room.

“In your dreams Junior,” you grunted, shoving him back toward the desk Evan was sitting at, knowing that the best friends would obviously be sharing the desk, they were attached at the hip. Your shove did nothing to move him, but Barty moved on his own accord anyway. “And these are other students that I tutor.

“This is Sirius,” you motioned to the raven haired boy who was trying his best not to lose his mind. How the hell did this happen? Where did his precious one on one time go?! He only glared at the two new entries. 

“James,” You motioned to James who looked up from his work and gave them a genuine smile and a sweet “Hello!”

“And this is Remus,” you motioned to Remus who looked up from his book for a moment, giving them a nod before returning to his reading. 

“This is Barty and Evan,” You said to the three boys, the room seemed to be getting tenser by the moment. You set Remus’s paper by your things to read later. “Now that we’re all introduced…” you walked up to the desk Barty and Evan resided and planted yourself in front of it crossing your arms over your chest. “I need to see your last test scores.”

Barty and Even exchanged a guilty look.

“About that-” Evan started, but you cut him off.

“Test scores. Now.”

The boys sighed in unison and started digging around their bags. Evan got his out first, a red F at the top right corner. Barty got his out, crumpled and dirty as if it sat at the bottom of that trash can he called a backpack, and handed it to you without looking you in the eye. Another F.

You took a deep breath. You couldn't hit them, again, inappropriate and unprofessional, but they were tap dancing on your morals.

“Guys,” you sighed disappointed, “What happened?”

“Hey don’t look at me, I copied off him,” Barty said pointing to his friend and leaning back in his chair.

“Oi!” Evan exclaimed, shoving Barty off balance and onto the floor.

“Barty, your score is worse!” you announced, exasperated. Barty only giggled like a naughty schoolboy from his spot on the floor.

Barty and Evan were… how do you put this… chaotically intelligent. They pulled through when they needed to, usually barely passing and flying just over the line of getting kicked out of the university. 

Barty had changed his major three times and Evan once forgot to show up to his final exam for the easiest class that was offered at your school: Disney’s Media, which was quite literally just showing up to watch a Disney movie and talk about it after. But these two somehow always ended up coming out on top. Frustratingly… If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t be able to do what they did, staying up all night the nights before important tests, writing 7 page papers the morning before the class its due, managing to weasel their way into group projects where all they really have to do is slap their name on it. 

“Relax, treasure,” Barty purred, sitting himself back in his chair. “It wasn’t even an important test so, it’ll be fine.” Evan nodded beside him in agreement. 

“That just means you’ll have to get an even higher score on the final.” you reasoned. 

“Which can be done.” Evan chimed in. Not likely, Barty and Evan both signed up for this gender studies class for an easy A, but it turned out to not be as easy of an A. But knowing them and their dumb luck, they would manage to pull through in the end.

You just don’t know why they insisted on stressing you out with their scores, you were invested in them and wanted to see them succeed. And this success is now on your shoulders, you would have to ultimately turn their grades around by adding in extra lessons and study sessions. Maybe this was their plan to spend time with you; sink their grade so they get more of you.

Your work load just seemed to continue to pile up. Not only with these five, but also keeping in mind that you had other students to tutor as well…

“Hey, Y/N, I think I’m done.” Sirius said from across the room.

You turned to make your way over to Sirius’s desk, but before you got far, Barty’s hand wrapped around your wrist, halting your movement. 

“Sorry we weren’t done with her quite yet,” Barty shot over to Sirius in an icy tone.

Sirius’s eyes narrowed and the room became ten times more tense.

“Well if we’re going down that route, I had her first.” Sirius’s tone was just as sharp.

You rolled your eyes, about to tell them both to chill out, before Remus spoke up.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be grabbing and fighting over her like she’s a toy.” He said not once looking up from his book. The attention of the room turned to him.

Sirius’s glare could have burned holes through the book in Remus’s hands, but Remus just raised a brow in return.

Before the tension of the room could boil over into a fight, which, knowing Barty and Evan as well as Sirius, that wasn’t out of the question, you spoke up.

“Ok, ok, enough.” your tone chastising. You thought for a moment that maybe having a group session was a bad idea, but then another thought popped into your head. 

“What if I made you all a deal?” you asked the room.

All the boys perked up, interested in what you had to say. Remus set his book down and James paused his scribbling.

“How about this, if you can manage to get an A by the end of the semester,” you paused, each boy waiting for you to continue. You were going to regret this but, oh well. What are the chances anyway? Pretty slim you’d say. “You can have my number.”

The room went dead silent for a beat. Then it broke into them speaking all at once.

“Wait really,” came from James.

“You’re telling me I have to compete with them now?.” Sirius said pointedly at the rest of the boys.

“Easy,” Evan said, high fiving Barty next to him.

“Does an A- count?” James asked

“But treasure,” Barty whined. “That means I’ll have to share you with Evan.”

“I am not sharing.” Sirius said with a growl in his voice.

Remus remained silent but you could see the smirk cut across his face, he was, afterall, the one most likely to actually accomplish the goal. He was quite pleased and confident that he would easily have your number by Christmas. 

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

To your surprise, they were taking this deal very seriously.

Evan and Barty were not only doing somewhat well in class, but they were also attending class every week. Their scores improved and it took a weight off your shoulders knowing that their grades wouldn’t rely solely on what they scored on their final exams. Thank God.

Nothing changed with Remus, nothing really needed changing. His scores stayed the same, his class performance didn’t change, he came second in the class only to you. The one thing that did change was that he took to sitting next to you in class. Instead of only catching your eye from across the lecture hall, he was now chatting with you every free moment of the class, and you really didn’t mind. 

James was excelling not only in class but on the field as well. He was doing really well on all his homework assignments and tests, and his team was so far undefeated. You were really rooting for him on both stages, even watching a few of his games in support.

The only one struggling with this task was Sirius. He was doing fine, but not great, constantly just missing the mark to pass over into A territory. You could tell he was stressing, not only did he really want your number, but watching the other four boys surpass him was really grating. Everything was riding on his final exam score, a situation he was less than pleased with.

At least he wasn’t staring daggers into them anymore, well, not into Remus and James at least. Those three actually became pretty good friends over the weeks. Barty and Evan however, let's just say those two were assigned seats on the opposite side of the room to cut back on the bickering and near fist fights. 

Remus was the first to win your number, naturally. He went into the final with a 99, meaning he could quite literally ditch and still end up with a high grade. But if he did that, he wouldn’t have your number now would he? You typed your name and number into his phone while he did the same in yours. You swapped phones back and noticed he added a little moon emoji by his name. Cute and mysterious.

James was next riding the high after a championship win, that enthusiasm rolled over into his final which he scored a 95 on his final. He was beaming when he walked into the study room, and you couldn’t blame him, you shared the same look, so proud of him. James noticed Remus’s name in your phone.

“Aw man,” he sighed, “He beat me to it.” 

You laughed with him, noticing he took a note from Remus’s book and added a little sun. If Remus was cute and mysterious, James was warm and sunny. A perfect way to describe James actually.

Barty and Evan walked in simultaneously to collect their prize. Evan earned a 94 and Barty a 93. You looked suspiciously at them and made them swear they didn’t cheat off each other on the final. Barty and Evan both looked guilty for a moment before laying on their sweet talk and distraction. You didn’t care, they passed and that's all that mattered. You typed your name and number into their phones. They both crowded around yours, typing in their information.

“Ahh, so we’re doing emojis, huh?” Barty said, noticing both Remus and James’s number ahead of theirs.

Evan added a rose emoji to his name. Smart. Evan Rosier.

Barty added a little bat behind his name, one nickname that Evan often called him. You caught him erasing your name and replacing it with ‘treasure’ with a ring emoji  behind him. You smile and roll your eyes, ushering them out before they have the chance to do or say anything stupid that would result in you either revoking their number privilege or blocking them entirely.

You waited and waited for Sirius to show up, but when the clock hit 6:00, he still hadn’t shown. All exams, finals, and projects were to be turned in at 6 on the dot. Classes were done, the semester was over.

You packed up and locked the door to the study room behind you. You started your journey to your parked car all the way across campus, not looking forward to the long cold trek.

Your bag less heavy without all the extra study materials for tutoring, swung loosely at your side the whole way. 

You felt a little bad, Sirius was the only one not to pass with an A. You were proud of him regardless, a B+ was nothing to laugh at, especially in his class, but you really wanted to see all five of them succeed.

You arrived at your car, unlocking it and getting in when you felt your phone buzz in the bottom of your empty bag. You started your car, trying to warm up as you fished around for your phone.

You pulled it out to see a message from an unknown number. 

You opened the message. It was a picture, shaky and obviously taken in a rush, but its content was unmistakable. The front page of a test with a big red A right next to Sirius’s name. 100%. He actually did it.

I must have missed you- unknown

Then how did you get my number?-you

I stole it off James- unknown.

I knew I’d eventually get your number- unknown

You smiled down at your screen, biting your lip as you thought what to text back. 

You worked hard for it.-you

Yeah I did- unknown

Maybe next time I get an A I can get a kiss- unknown

Anyway, see you next semester ;)- unknown

You closed out the app and put your phone in your cup holder. Next semester… your phone number idea really did work, it motivated them to work hard and get good grades. Maybe the promise of a kiss is just what they need to keep them motivated.

You could help the smile that made a home on your face as you put your car in drive and headed home.

idk how to tag this but i love a hogwarts university! AU

[skzyeri]

poly marauders fic recs

F - fluff S - smut A - angst ☆ - one shot ♡ - series ◇ - headcannons

last updated - 23/05/2026 ⤷ fic count - 18

poly jily -----------

♡ mister carter - @g1rld1ary | F. S. ⤷ in your first week at your summer internship for a top law firm in london, you meet james and lily potter; partner at the firm (your boss) and his fashion-empire wife. despite the age gap and power structures, they both take a special interest in you ☆ poly!jily x reader | F. S. ⤷ “look, our swimsuits match!” ☆ poly!jily x fem!reader | S. ⤷ “how do you expect me to survive the summer with you both living in sundresses?!”

poly marauders -----------

♡ emt!marauders x fem!reader - @moonstruckme | A. F. ☆ poly!marauders x fem!reader - @moonstruckme | A. F. ☆ first - @brokenmenswhore | S. ⤷ virginity loss trope :) ☆ snogging on the couch - @strawb3rrystar | F. ♡ 1 boyfriend, 3 perverts au - @yasministration | F. S. A. ☆ dad!marauders x mum!reader - @ellecdc | F. ⤷ mum!reader who try to musicify their child ☆ dad!marauders x mum!reader - @ellecdc | F. ⤷ mum!reader who saves their daughter from the boys' tyranny ☆ poly!marauders x fem!reader - @ellecdc | F. ⤷ reader who is not pranking them right now ☆ necklace - @yasministration | F. S.

poly marauders + lily -----------

☆ poly marauders + lily x fem!reader - @ellecdc | F. ⤷ reader who plays for hufflepuff

poly moonwater -----------

♡ poly!moonwater x fem!reader - @ellecdc | A. ⤷ reader who was bitten over the winter hols ☆ poly!moonwater x pregnant!reader - @ellecdc | F. ⤷ reader who's in her first trimester pt.2

poly prongsfoot -----------

☆ poly!prongsfoot x reader | F. ⤷ “i don’t care how hot is it, i still want to cuddle with both/all of you.”

poly rosekiller -----------

☆ poly!rosekiller x fem!reader - @ellecdc | F. ⤷ reader who they love to spoil

poly wolfstar -----------

☆ poly!wolfstar x fem!reader - @ellecdc | A. F. ⤷ reader who they believe to be a muggle

[ellecdc]

Hello luv! Could you possibly do poly!rosekiller x reader who has a problem with picking. Like she just loves picking her nails or her face or cuts or whatever haha

sure, at the risk of starting another haterpocalypse. may I present to Tumblr for the very first time ever, a never before seen rare ship that no one has ever done before, entirely my own unique original idea, a very niche concept that has never been seen before in the history of all fan fiction:

poly!rosekiller x anxious!reader who picks at her nails [866 words]

CW: anxiety, reference to reader working with a doctor re anxiety, medications, bleeding, hurt/comfort & fluff

You were actually so consumed by the increasingly blurry screen in front of you that Evan’s reproachful oi startled you so greatly that your knee whacked loudly (and painfully) against the bottom of the kitchen table, threatening to overturn both your tea and Barty’s coffee. 

“Christ, Rosie, what is your problem?” Barty hissed as he made to stabilise a vase of flowers in the middle of the table.

“She’s at it again.” Evan tattled, causing you to quickly rip your hands away from your mouth and hide them in your lap, but the way Barty’s head spun towards you told you all that you needed to know; it was too late - you’d been outed. 

“Alright, that’s it.” Barty declared quickly, slamming your laptop shut in front of you. “You’re done.”

“But-”

“Nope.” He cut you off, standing in order to pull out your chair and forcing you to stand lest he actually dump you out of it. “Done, capiche, finite. Get lost.” 

“Barty…” 

“C’mere, poppet.” Evan offered then, putting aside his book and holding his hand out for you in invitation, and the welcoming prospect of joining him in his lounge chair won against any residual dismay from being yelled at. 

You accepted his hand which saw you curled up in his lap in the very next second as he inspected your - now shredded - nail beds; your body felt horribly warm when he tsked at you. 

“Look what you’ve done, pet; you’re bleeding.” He cooed, and the distress in his tone almost counterbalanced his disappointment in you. 

Almost.

“M’sorry.” You murmured, earning you another tsk in response as he gently thumbed over the raw skin surrounding your nails, an indent between his brows you thought might be growing permanent between dealing with you and dealing with Barty. 

“You should be, mauling my poor girl.” He turned his eyes to you, then, causing your traitorous eyes to sting and your bottom lip to jut out in a pout that he quickly pressed his lips to. 

“You were told to stop looking if it was stressing you out, sweets.” He reminded you gently; lips still hovering over yours should you need him to kiss away another pout. 

“I know.” You whispered. 

You weren’t even aware what you were doing until Evan’s hands tightened around your own near painfully.

“Stop it.” He hissed. “Stop picking.” 

“M’sorry.” You offered again; he must’ve heard the breathy tone laced through your words because his grip loosened minutely before he pressed another deep, lingering kiss to your lips, only pulling away once you let out the breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding.  

“I know you are, poppet. But you need to stop.” 

You were saved from having to respond by Barty returning, pulling one of the footstools over to sit in front of you with a tray of…things.

“What’re you doing?” Evan asked him on your behalf. 

“Give ‘em here.” Barty ordered in lieu of responding. Evan didn’t seem to mind, however, handing over your hands he had imprisoned within his own.

You quickly wiped your cheek against your clothed shoulder, prompting Evan to wipe at the few tears managing to escape from your lashes as you sat up; hands occupied as you watched Barty dip a paintbrush into a bowl of white paint. 

No, not white paint: definitely not white paint you deduced as the cool, viscous liquid touched your hands. 

“What is this?”

“A remedy.” Barty replied, looking up from his current task only when you threatened to pull your hands away at his unanswered question. “It’s glue, treasure. If you’re so hell bent on picking, don’t let it be at your sodding nails.” 

You looked back down when Barty pulled away, some of the white material already fading to a translucent shade of your skin. 

You held a pointer finger up to Evan, getting about an inch away from his nose before he was circling your wrist with his hand to keep you from making a mess of him. 

“Fuckin’ Hell, bee; d’you really think this was a good idea?” 

“You got a better one?” Barty asked as he theatrically whipped out an embellished hand fan you didn’t even know he owned let alone where he was hiding it in the house without breaking his serious facade. 

“Once it’s all dry, you can peel it away; better than your skin, yeah?” Barty asked, smiling at you softly.

“Yeah.” You agreed on an exhale, the ball of anxiety loosening slightly in your chest as you held your hands aloft. 

“Then maybe we’ll book another appointment to talk to your doctor about your meds, hm?” Evan offered then; thumb pulling at your lip the second it slipped between your teeth at the thought of going back to the doctors. 

“D’you want me to come with you, tres?” 

You looked over at Barty as if considering it before he rolled his eyes good naturedly. “I swear to God I’ll behave - won’t even threaten anybody.” 

“Okay…thank you, Bee.” 

His smile turned beaming before he was bringing his face to yours, pressing a kiss to your lips and smiling into it as he heard you peel the first layer of glue from your hands.

© ellecdc; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.

[aureateink]

What's My Name? - R.B.

Bully!Regulus Black x fem!reader

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

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

masterlist

────────────────────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He closed his eyes, willing them all to disappear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Barty, then?”

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

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

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

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

The group ooooh’d at his dig.

“Reg!” Emma whined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking Black’s.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, almost all in good fun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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

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

But when you climbed into his lap…fuck.

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

Or, maybe you did.

I will ruin you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Move,” you hissed, withdrawing your wand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Regulus,” you huffed, frustrated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Men are so fucking easy.

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

Regulus swallowed hard, his eyes like melted jade.

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

“Y/n,” he rasped, breathing hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then what the fuck did he mean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I kept—”

“I never meant too—”

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

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

He sighed, suddenly looking grim, and your heart gave a nervous thump. “We find a way to keep you safe, lamb,” he said, meeting your eyes. “Okay?"

"Okay."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Thanks for reading!

© aureateink 2026. do not copy, post, or claim my writing as your own.

[whimsymoonpages]

Hi love!! Could i request Fem reader x Evan x barty smut?? like they are a group of friends, i’m thinking she’s Evans gryffindor girlfriend. She hangs out with them, and then on of the skittles gets a drug that makes them horny, they all start to leave, Evan and her start making out and when barty gets up to leave they just tell him to stay. Please please pleaseeee

poly!rosekiller smut: the wrong drug

cw: mmf, p in v, oral (male and female receiving), mentions of drug use and after affects, praise praise praise!

you weren’t supposed to stay this late.

it had been a lazy afternoon with the skittles, half the group sprawled on conjured cushions in the back of the old quidditch stands, passing bottles, laughing too loud. someone had smuggled in firewhisky, someone else had gotten their hands on a flower that barty claimed was “maybe like a stimulant? maybe like a mood enhancer? we’ll find out.”

you should’ve known. anything barty gets from the strange men in diagon alley was not to be trusted.

because two hours later, the sun dipping low, the group had thinned—people slipping off with flushed cheeks and muttered excuses. regulus had stalked off to his head boy room with a pillow over his crotch, and pandora had left ages ago in search of xeno. you, of course, thought they were being dramatic; though it didn’t take a genius to clock that the potion barty brought wasn’t just a mild stimulant. it was a full-body furnace. and now it was just the three of you left: you, your boyfriend evan, and barty crouch jr., sitting too still, too quiet, like he was trying not to combust.

evan’s eyes had been on you all night, blue and dark with something hungry. he looked too good in the fading light—his dark golden skin glowing, white-blonde hair a little messy from when you’d tugged it earlier, teasing. his fingers were twitching against your thigh, like he was barely holding himself back.

“everyone’s gone,” you murmured, breath catching as his hand slid higher, fingertips brushing under your skirt. “should we go too?”

evan smirked. “we should.”

he didn’t move.

you leaned in to kiss him, soft at first, but it lit like a match. he groaned, fingers digging into your waist as he kissed you harder, his mouth hot and demanding, tongue sweeping in like he needed to taste everything. you moaned into it, hips shifting closer, thighs spreading on instinct.

barty made a sound—half cough, half scoff—as he stood abruptly, brushing grass off his pants. “i’ll give you two a minute.”

“don’t,” evan said, not looking up, still kissing you. “stay.”

barty froze. “what?”

you pulled back slightly, lips swollen, eyes heavy-lidded. “stay,” you echoed, voice soft but sure. “if you want.”

barty blinked, then slowly sat down again, green eyes locked on where evan’s hand was now sliding between your legs. his voice was hoarse. “this a regular thing you offer your friends? weirdos.”

evan chuckled against your throat, biting gently. “only the ones we trust. the ones we want."

you spread your thighs wider, letting evan press his fingers against the soaked fabric of your knickers. “it’s the potion,” you breathed. “makes everything feel hotter. might as well give in, b.”

barty’s eyes darkened. “yeah,” he muttered. “might as well...”

“you gonna just sit there and watch?” evan asked, voice lazy but firm. “or are you gonna help?”

barty didn’t answer with words. he crossed the space between you in seconds, mouth slanting over yours with a kind of restraint that made your whole body ache. where evan was all heat and hunger, barty kissed like he wanted to learn every inch of you through touch—soft, slow, fucking devastating. your hips jerked as evan finally pushed your panties aside, two fingers sliding through your wetness.

“fuck, she’s soaked,” evan muttered, watching barty kiss you. “you like being shared, baby?”

you nodded, dizzy. “love being wanted.”

“that you do,” evan said, voice tight with affection, before lowering his head and licking a slow stripe up your inner thigh. he sucked a bruise just beside your panties, then pulled them down and tossed them aside. "we want you so bad. isn't that right, junior?"

barty sat back on his heels, watching as evan spread your legs and buried his face between them. your gasp was sharp, back arching as his tongue flicked over your clit, rough and practiced. you fisted your hand in his hair, hips bucking helplessly.

“he always this good with his mouth?” barty murmured, running a hand through his brown and green hair.

“usually better.” you managed, before he caught your chin and kissed you again—this time rougher, more possessive. you whimpered into it as evan licked deeper, tongue pressing inside your cunt, groaning like you were his last fucking meal.

barty tugged your shirt up and off, exposing your bare chest to the warm air. his hands were gentler than you expected, thumbs brushing your nipples until they peaked under his touch. “so pretty like this,” he whispered. “fuck.”

evan pulled off just long enough to murmur, “get her ready. i want her full.”

you whined, legs trembling. “please, ev. need you—both of you.”

barty looked at you, flushed and wild, then pulled his wand and conjured lube with a flick. his fingers were long, careful as he slipped one into your soaked cunt beside evan’s tongue, then two, scissoring you open while evan sucked your clit mercilessly.

you were shaking when they finally stopped, skin flushed, pussy aching.

“on your knees, doll.” evan said, voice rough. you obeyed, breathless, the ground cool beneath you as barty pulled his cock free—thick, flushed, already leaking. he stroked himself slowly, watching your mouth open for him, eyes blown wide with lust.

evan slid behind you, his cock hard and slick as he pressed into your cunt, inch by inch, until you were full to the hilt. “fuck, you’re tight,” he grunted, hands gripping your hips. “you were made for my cock, hmm?”

you moaned, then gagged softly as barty slid into your mouth, hips shallow as he fucked your throat slow, eyes fixed on yours. you were wrecked—full at both ends, caught between them, every nerve ending on fire.

evan fucked into you with brutal, perfect rhythm, slapping into your soaked cunt, muttering filth under his breath. “that’s it, baby, take me—take both of us—so fucking good, so fuckable like this.”

barty’s hand cradled your jaw as he fucked your mouth. “such a good girl,” he said softly, like praise. “so eager for it.”

you were shaking, sobbing around his cock, your orgasm building like a storm. evan felt it—his pace quickened, slamming into you harder, groaning. “come on, love, come on my cock—wanna feel you squeeze me.”

you shattered, coming with a cry, body locking down tight around evan’s cock as your throat fluttered around barty. evan spilled inside you with a growl, hips jerking, fingers digging bruises into your waist.

barty pulled out just before he came, stroking himself over your tongue, groaning as he painted your lips and chin with hot ropes of cum.

you collapsed between them, panting, ruined, every inch of you tingling from the aftershocks.

evan pressed kisses to your spine, sweet and dizzy. “you alright, sweetheart?”

you nodded, dazed. “better than.”

barty squeezes your chin and rubs your cheek with his thumb. "i ought to buy some more of that, aye?"

[peppermintkissesxoxo]

Dress Up

Poly!Rosekiller x Reader

Cw: boys dress up reader, d/s dynamics bc it’s Evan, objectification kinda? Boys treat reader like a doll essentially

🥀

You feel like a doll.

Standing on the plush emerald rug in the middle of your walk in closet, frilly panties and a matching bra are your only cover while your boyfriends hold up various clothing articles to your body and debate which one you’re wearing for dinner.

This isn’t a new occurrence. Date night means the boys get to play dress up with you. It’s an agreed thing that you practically signed up for when getting into a relationship with them. But no matter how often they do it, it doesn’t stop a certain heat from seeping into your cheeks.

They love to dote on you, spoil you excessively if you will. It was hard to accept at first. The lavish gifts and constant attention, but you’ve learned to love it. To expect it.

That doesn’t mean you don’t like to push the boundaries of their playtime a little bit.

“I think the velvet goes best with those little white socks. The ones with the lace.” Evan murmurs, brows furrowed and deep in thought as he eyes a black velvet babydoll dress. Probably too short to be appropriate but that’s never deterred them. As Barty has said numerous times ‘you can wear whatever you like, treasure. We can fight.’

While they’re distracted you stray from your set position on the rug, thumbing through a few items and attempting to pull out a different dress when you feel a hand batting yours away. And then another pulling you back to the middle of the room and straightening up your posture.

“I told you to stand still, poppet.” Evan says, an unimpressed scowl on his lips. His grip on your arm while not harsh is firm.

A petulant huff escapes your lips, shoulders slouching forward in defiance before Evan quickly pushes them back into to place with heavy palms

“Was just looking…” You murmur, a bit embarrassed at his chastising and manhandling. But you know Evan takes this dress up time very seriously. It’s almost amusing how dedicated he is to dolling you up.

“And you know the rules,” he chides.

“Don’t you get yourself in trouble now, tres.” Barty snickers, currently bent at the waist and rummaging through a box of socks and stockings.

You grumble under you breath but quickly right yourself when you catch the look Evan is giving you. He’s silent but it rings loud.

Strike one.

With a swallow you look down to your fingers, twisting them and avoiding his gaze. “Okay. I’ll stay still,” you concede.

A soft pinch to your hip startles you. “You better. Would hate for you to get to strike three on date night,” he muses.

“Okay, well you don’t have to be mean about it,” you joke, half flustered and barely keeping it together at his thinly veiled threat.

The corner of his lip twitches up. His pinches your chin between his fingers and swoops down to your height. “F’course I do. A little doll like you needs a firm hand, don’t you? Need to be taken care of and spoiled. And sometimes you need someone else to do thinking for you. Cause you’re just a little doll, hmm?” He coos, the sound so condescending yet sweet that it has your head swimming in ditzy confusion.

Before you can even fully process how fuzzy you feel, Evan is back to his outfit searching. Paying no mind to your flustered state.

It’s safe to say you’re quite docile for the rest of their ‘playtime.’