my little star oct 31 ⋆ voyeurism / dubcon stalker!regulus black x fem!reader
summary: regulus can't see the stars in the paris skyline, but he always can see you across the road ♱ 1.1k warnings: 18+ mdni, stalking, voyeurism, dubcon (watching w out your knowledge), masturbation, spit, french!regulus, google translated french, takes place in paris kinktober masterlist
note: the last one 🥹 thank you guys so so much for an amazing kinktober. i hope you enjoy this last one, im particularly excited for you to read it
Many people would deem stargazing a futile effort in the middle of a city as sleepless as Paris. It never truly goes dark here. A constant golden glow lights up the sky, swallows up all the stars Regulus loves so dearly.
Maybe that’s why he found a new star to admire.
With a soft creak, Regulus swings his window open, and his curtains billow as a gust of wind sweeps through his flat. With steady hands, he focuses the telescope, one eye squinted shut as he peers through the lens.
But it’s not the sky he points his telescope at. It never is anymore.
It’s you.
What luck that such a lovely soul like you ended up in the flat straight across the way from his. It must have been divine intervention that put you right in his lap, and Regulus thanks the cosmos every single day for it.
“Bonsoir, ma petite étoile,” Regulus murmurs, a small smile playing at his lips as he watches you move through your flat, flitting from window to window as you move between your rooms. “Will you put on a show for me tonight?” he hums knowingly. He knows what you’re doing as soon as you light the first candle.
You never draw your curtains. Maybe you foolishly believe you’re safe from prying eyes, up on the tenth floor of your building. Or maybe there’s some part of you that knows your nights don’t only belong to you, and your curtains stay open just for him. Regulus believes it in his soul that it’s the latter.
“Séductrice,” he muses as you slowly peel your shirt off, baring your back to the window.
Regulus imagines how smooth your skin would feel under his touch. Under the trace of his tongue. He can almost taste your sweet flavor as he fantasizes about being in your room with you, cradling you from behind, trailing his lips across the back of your neck.
The last of your clothes drops to the floor. Regulus has seen you like this more times than he can count, and each time it takes his breath away.
You crawl onto your mattress. The fluffy duvet curls around your body as you lie on your back, resting your head on your fluffy pillows.
You spread your legs wide, and Regulus holds onto his telescope so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He tweaks the lens, magnifying the picture of your pretty pussy, so slick with your arousal.
His cock strains against his trousers as your hands dance across your skin. Regulus is glad that you take your time with yourself, worshipping your own body just as you deserve. It will suffice until you’re ready for him to enter your life. For him to become the one who worships you utterly.
Your cup your breasts in your hands, gently squeezing the supple flesh. Your thumbs brush over your nipples, and Regulus can see the shiver that runs through your body as you pinch the puffy peaks between your forefingers and thumbs.
Regulus bucks his hips against nothing, and he has to satiate himself with a palm over the bulge between his legs. But he won’t really touch himself yet. Not until you do. When your right hand drifts lower, he pops the button of his trousers.
Your delicate fingers tease your slick folds, spreading your lower lips as if you’re showing off your perfect pussy just for him. His mouth waters, and he would give almost anything to go over there now and bury his face in your folds. To taste your slick juices on his tongue.
But the one thing he would never sacrifice is how you’ll first meet. He can’t just barge into your flat, especially not now. That would terrify you. That would ruin everything. Not that he hasn’t been inside before, or lain in those very sheets when you weren’t home.
But, no. He can’t have you now, because it has to be perfect. He hasn’t worked out how he’ll do it yet. He’s sure it will come to him when the time is right.
Your lips part when your middle finger circles your swollen clit. Regulus clenches his jaw. He’d love nothing more than to hear the beautiful sounds you’re making. If only the bug he placed in your apartment hadn’t inexplicably died. Bloody cheap thing.
Regulus frees his aching cock from his trousers as you plunge two fingers inside of your pussy. He spits in his palm and takes his length in his hand. Breathless noises fall from his lips as he tries to pace himself, pumping his hand in time with the thrusts of your fingers.
The fat of your breast bulges between your fingers as you squeeze yourself. The heel of your palm grinds against your clit as you curl your fingers, nudging that soft, spongy patch in the way that always makes your legs shake.
Regulus can tell you're close by the crease in your brow. You writhe in your bed, hips jerking to meet the thrusts of your fingers as you chase your impending release. Your jaw goes slack, and Regulus can only imagine the trembling whines that fall from your lips as he nears his own end.
Your back arches off the mattress, your chest heaving, as your orgasm crashes over you. At the same moment, Regulus’s body tenses, and hot spurts of cum coat his hand.
He finds a special kind of beauty in getting to share these moments with you.
Regulus takes a minute to catch his breath, watching as you do the same. His breath slows, matching the rhythm of yours until his ears stop ringing.
He averts his gaze from the telescope to pluck a tissue from the box perched on the little wooden table by his window. He cleans his cum from his hand and his cock. And where it dribbled onto his trousers. He tosses the tissue into the bin.
Regulus returns to the telescope, peering through the lens again to check on you. You’re not in your bed anymore. With his thumb on the dial, he widens the telescope’s gaze, bringing the rest of your bedroom into view.
Regulus sucks in a sharp breath, head jerking away from the lens. For a moment, he stands frozen, heart thrumming in his chest. He looks back into the telescope only to find your curtains drawn shut.
He leans back again, swallowing hard. He shakes his head at himself, but can’t shake the image of you standing in front of your window, wrapped in a thin sheet.
For that brief moment, it almost looked like you were looking right at him. And it looked like you were smiling.
A coincidence, Regulus thinks.
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