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Stalker regulus smut PLEASEEHDBBFBF

𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓀𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝓎 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈 ⎹ 𝓡.𝓑.

fandom harry potter / the marauders masterlist

featuring death eater!regulus black x muggle!reader ( f )

rating none of my work is meant to be viewed by minors ( anyone under the age of eighteen ), and i will happily block any that interact with my posts or my blog. all characters are 18+, this takes place outside of hogwarts.

content warning technically a dark fic, stalking, obsession, masturbation ( him ), some somnophilia, noncon smut, mind control kink technically (imperius curse), face fucking

summary the muggle world is under the control of the Death Eaters, and one in particular has been keeping a close eye on you.

word count 3k / one shot

attention do not repost or translate, even with ‘credit’. just don’t do it. reblog instead of like. leave feedback if you enjoyed.

he normally watched you from home.

after all, what had he gone through the trouble of enchanting the shop owner into selling you the damn two way mirror for if he didn’t use it?

luckily for him, you must’ve decided that the antique looked best in your bedroom, and so most nights, he had the perfect view of you sleeping soundly. he would’ve been lounging on his bed, naked, staring into that mirror as his palm worked himself over. he liked to imagine how soft your butterfly strokes would be, and try to mimic them with the lightest hand possible, calling your name under his breath as he did so. “More.” he would beg to himself, seeing the visage of you on your knees before him behind his eyelids. he envisioned you would poke your lips out in the cutest pout as you looked up at him, both fists curled around his cock and working in tandem to please him in the ways he’s taught you.

but, that’s all it was.

fantasies.

after he’d finished, when he’s panting and shuddering beneath the waves of aftershock, when he’d open his eyes, he was alone in his bed. and you in yours. he decided watching you through the mirror was no longer sufficient. it kept too much distance between he and you.

he wanted to get closer.

he needed to be closer.

it wasn’t his first time unlocking your door with a wave of his wand, whispering a hushed, “Alohomora.” this was, however, his first time stepping inside and knowing that you were asleep in the bedroom. he usually waited, watched you leave. he would appear to be a patrolling Death Eater, ensuring that the muggles were obeying their new laws.

sometimes, you would catch his eye and his heart would start to pound rapid fire in its organic prison. the daggers you glared at him may as well have torn through his body. you, like most muggles, hated the Death Eaters, only unlike most muggles, you weren’t afraid to show it in the fire in your eyes. he’d even heard you mouth off to one once, and he could remember the acid on your tongue when you told him just where he could stick his magic wand. it shouldn’t have, but it made Regulus laugh.

it was always only after you’ve disappeared from sight that Regulus would let himself into your apartment. taking his time, he would walk each room, fingers gliding along the upholstery, imagining that yours have done the same at some point. he’d creep into your bedroom and lie down on your side of the bed, breathing in the scent of you with his eyes closed. sometimes, if he were lucky and you had been in too much of a hurry to discard your pajamas in the hamper by the door, they would be strewn over top of the bed. and he would fondle them carefully, slender digits rubbing waves of soft fabric that smelled like you. he was always shamefully hard when he wrapped your panties around his fist and brought them to his face, kissed at the delicate fabric, before sliding them under the waistband of his trousers pressing them to his throbbing groin to grind against, fucking the cotton until he stained them white.

that was the closest he’s ever come to you.

until tonight.

the living room was dark, curtains pulled closed over the windows, and he tiptoes, carefully and slow, into the hallway. the apartment is silent, so quiet he can almost hear you breathing on the other side of the door when he reaches it. or, maybe, that’s just his own heavy breath, the pounding of his own heart. he presses a palm against the door, and it whines softly as it opens. he takes a step inside.

your bedroom smells of your perfume, and he inhales it, eyes fluttering closed behind the mask he wore. he’d been in this room before, smelled the scent of you on your pillows, but it was all the more intense when you were here. you smelled warm and sweet, and he was certain that it was the aroma of his own, personal hellfire.

there’s a faint glow from a street lamp outside of your window that casts a glow across your sleeping visage, and he discards the mask, pushing his hood back on to his shoulders as he comes closer, and falls to his knees at the side of the bed as if you were splayed upon an altar to be worshipped at.

blasphemy.

that’s what it was. beautiful, horrible blasphemy to kneel for a muggle. to see the sun and moon in a twinkle behind her eyes. to yearn for her, to lust after her, to want nothing more than to be able to touch her to keep the madness away. that’s what his noble family, his noble cause would say. hell, they might even kill him. a blood traitor.

but in this room, in this darkness, in this moment, none of that mattered.

his cock was already twitching, needy and impatient against his thigh, just from the closeness. sprawled on your back, your face was turned away from him, one arm flung over the pillow. as if you’d been dropped from the heavens and landed just so.

Regulus exhales, shaky, one hand reaching up to grasp the sheet atop which you lay whilst his hand delves into his undone bottoms. touching himself while staring up at you, lying unconscious just a few inches from his reach elicits a weak moan, one that almost didn’t sound like the powerful Wizard he thought himself to be. he palms at his erection with a rough hand, hoping to work himself into finishing quickly so he could slip out of your apartment undetected. however, temptation was gnawing at him. the longer he allowed his slate gaze to traverse the curves of your unconscious frame, the more persistent the urge to reach out and touch you became. until it’s so mighty that he drops his forehead against the mattress with a heavy breath in defeat. “Dammit.” his free hand swims the sea of sheets and hikes over your abdomen, before resting atop your breast. he shudders, pumping himself faster. harder. “Damn you,” he whispers, but it’s breathless and weak and followed by a moan of your name as he kneads your bare mound through your pajama top; there’s no resistance— you hadn’t been wearing a bra. “Damn you for feeling so good.”

your body twitches, and Regulus nearly stops breathing, head snapping up with eyes wide and nervous, but it was a simple sigh in your sleep. it takes a moment for him to process, but then he bites down on his lip. “I wonder if it feels good for you,” he whispers, “if you’re dreaming about me.” thrusting into his own hand, his eyes turn towards your lower portion, hidden under the covers. he knew you never wore bottoms to bed, just your panties, and the thought has him moaning through sealed tiers. he shouldn’t. but he couldn’t stop himself. that dastardly hand of his glides down your midsection and disappears under the blanket, slipping between the warmth of your thighs to pet the soft cotton of your panties and he grunts, leaning forward to bite down on the sheet to keep from waking you. his eyelids flutter. never in a million years would he have expected to be driven to the brink of insanity with the mere feeling of someone’s skin, and yet, you had come along and put all of his bravado to shame.

“You’re so warm…” the first two digits on his hand prod against your panties, working slowly, methodically, but the treatment of his own sex is so far removed from gentle that he’s practically trembling with every forceful pump. he can feel a wet patch forming under his the pads of his fingers and you let out a soft, sleepy whimper and the Death Eater practically loses his composure. rubbing more fervently, he rolls his eyes behind his lids and calls for you. he knew he should slow down, that he was getting too rough and too loud, but you were so wet and he was already edging towards a powerful climax that he couldn’t hold back.

and that was when you woke up.

at first, he wasn’t so sure that your eyes had opened, until you suck in a breath to scream. the Death Eater panics, clamping one hand over your mouth to muffle the sound; his order patrolled the city streets at night, and the last thing he needed was for anyone else to find him here like this.

“Shh—“ he hisses, harsh, but both of your arms come up to push at him as he scrambles up on to the bed. you’re stronger, putting up more of a fight than he anticipated, and so he straddles your chest, jamming his knees into your shoulders to pin you in place. staring down into your frightened, wide eyes, Regulus can’t think. you were writhing, kicking your legs and trying to reach around his body to shove him off, screaming muffled through his palm. “Shh!”he keeps your mouth covered tight, but his nerves are so agitated that he doesn’t even think about his next move. his other hand flees from his trousers and retrieves the wand in his pocket, wielding it towards you with a stern, “Imperio.” before he even realizes that he’s done it. “Be quiet. Now.”

a moment later, you relax, dazed in the curse. no more screaming. your hands both fall back against the pillow and Regulus can breathe a tad bit easier. “I’m going to take my hand off of your mouth,” he whispers, slowly and crystal clear, “and you’re not going to scream.” you nod, gazing up at him, and he slowly releases your face from his grasp. your lips are parted, but not a single peep comes out. “You’re not afraid of me.” he murmurs. “Say it.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

he expels a sigh of relief, but he feels guilty. he looks down at the position he’s in, pinning you to the bed, and bites down on his lower lip. his hard on hanging from his undone bottoms, so close to you, he despises the vivid and obscene compulsion that overtakes him. it’s even worse with you staring up at him the way you are, waiting to be commanded. ready to obey. don’t. he tries to tell himself, but he’s already reaching for your hand.

you were already under the imperius curse, so why should he waste the opportunity?

grasping your wrist, he brings your hand to his mouth. first, he kisses your fingers, staring down at you. “I’ve wanted you for so fucking long,” he whispers, “too fucking long.” running his tongue along your palm, he slathers it in his saliva, before guiding your hand down to his cock. more resolved, more authoritative, he feels the confidence of having you under his thumb. “I want you to touch me… satisfy my urges, muggle.”

a faint smile etches your lips up, as if you were drunk, and your digits wrap around the base of him. he inhaled sharply when you stroke.

“Yes.” he mutters, both hands reaching down to cradle your face and keep it turned up; his shoulders hunch and he stares down at you through a sea of unruly, dark locks. “Keep going, more.” his hips jerk against your movements, the urge to rut into the slow pumping driving him crazy, but he resists. his thumbs graze over your lips, shaping them, as he moans your name. “You’re so beautiful, so, so beautiful—“

“Thank you.” you reply, smiling up at him.

he knew it was a false reality. you were compelled, cursed to be so accepting of him. you would do anything and everything he wanted in that moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. he was finally getting what he always wanted— you.

grey eyes focused on your mouth, he chews on his own. the thought of the warmth, the wetness of your cavern and your plush lips wrapping around his girth is almost too much to bear.

“Open.” he commands, and you obey in the blink of an eye. he groans, shifting to inch himself closer to your face, pushing your hand away so he can guide his cock to your waiting couplet. “I need to fuck your pretty mouth,” he moans, unable to believe that he was truly here right now, “and you’re going to be a useful hole and keep it open and let me have my way with it.”

you tilt your head, slightly, opening wider, and give a little nod. “Ah-ay.” it was the only way you could agree, because he was already stuffing himself inside. his patience had all but ran out.

Regulus drops his head back and moans, one hand gripping the headboard the moment he fills your mouth. he’s close already, throbbing; he’d been edging since he was on his knees moments ago, but this— this would surely push him over the edge. “Good, good girl,” he mewls, rocking his hips to set a quick pace. he couldn’t hold back anymore, he was frenzied. “T—take it for me, take it all for me!”

a symphony fills the room; the dull thud of the headboard rhythmically slamming into the wall, the gurgling and shrill clucking every time the head of his cock jabs the back of your throat, and his own, sordid moaning. Regulus fights the urge to close his eyes, determined to stare into your watery ones when he cums. “Your mouth feels so fucking good, the perfect little sleeve for my cock.” he whines, watching the tears escape your ducts from the pummeling your throat is taking. you handle it well, due to the curse or not, even when he grasps your hair at the root and pulls your head forward to meet his merciless fucking, “I should’ve done this so long ago!” your eyes are hazy, lids heavy, but he shakes his head, pushing your head back, “No, no, keep those eyes open.” your lids part immediately, “Look at me. Watch me fuck your face. Fuck, I’m almost there…”

Regulus knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold it in and once you met his gaze, and it was all over in a matter of moments. just a couple more thrusts before he buried himself as deep into your throat as he could go, pressing his hips into you to push the back of your head against the pillows as he cums. even as he cries out, he can hear a faint gagging under his weight, and he exhales, petting your hair back with a soft, encouraging mumble. “Swallow. There, there. Good girl.”

pulling out of your mouth was damn near impossible. if he had it his way, Regulus would’ve stayed nestled there with your soft lips pressed to his pelvis until the end of time. however, he knew he had to release you. pulling back, his cock falls from your mouth with a vulgar pop, and you let out a few ragged breaths, chest heaving. still, you’re not frightened, your eyes still watch him, as if ready to heed another command. he pushes himself off of you and tucks his manhood into his trousers, fastening them. “You will never, ever tell anyone about this.”

“I will never tell anyone about this.” you answer, the same, drunken simper on your face. only now, your lips are glazed with saliva, glossy.

Regulus stares at you, and grabs a fistful of the blanket, wrenching it back simply out of curiosity. “Spread your legs.”

you do, and he scoffs. his cock twitches in his pants. the wet patch has grown significantly, and he can’t help but slide his fingers under the waistband of your panties and slot them under your weeping folds. you were so damn wet. you liked it. curse or no curse, choking on Regulus’ cock had made you a sticky mess. he groans through grit teeth when he hears a soft whimper from you, and circles your entrance with the tip of his finger. he can feel you clench around air, and he wanted to feel the grip on his cock, but he resists.

for now.

the next time he visited, however, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from fucking you to complete ruin, now that he knew that he could.

pulling his hand free, webs of your arousal clinging to his fingers, he holds them up to your mouth, and you take them in as if you can read his mind, graciously suckling yourself off of his digits, batting wet eyelashes up at him. “Should I stuff that wet little cunt next time?” he asks, and you nod with a happy, hopeful moan, licking his fingers clean like a desperate animal. “Fill it with my cum, too?” the thought is most sinful— and he knew that his family would have him drawn and quartered for even considering mating with a muggle. but you nod again, and he suddenly doesn’t care. to hell with them, to hell with tradition. “Yes? Do you want it that bad? Would you take it anywhere I wanted to give it?” another nod. he knows you’re simply acting out what he wants, a pantomime, but it’s more than he’d ever believed he’d get. that’s enough. he nods, too, and leans over your bed, his free hand grabbing your chin to direct your line of sight to him and him only. “Very good girl. I want you to go back to sleep now, and dream of me. Dream that you take my hard cock in every hole and you fucking love it, and when you wake up, I want you to fuck yourself with your fingers hard and deep until you scream my name when you cum all over them.”

“What’s your name?” you ask, compliant.

“Regulus Black.”