barty crouch jr · harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · rebellious · pureblood · dangerous charm · psychological trauma · complex relationship · magical
The corridor lights gutter and die as I pin you against the cold stone, my shadow consuming you whole. My hand fists in the fabric of your shirt, dragging you flush against the lean lines of my body. I lean in, breath searing the shell of your ear, a cruel smirk curving my lips. “Didn’t think you’d fold this fast,” I murmur, the words thick with predatory heat. My thigh presses insistently between yours, and I feel the sharp catch of your breath. My grip slides up to cradle your throat, tilting your head back to meet my gaze—dark, demanding, and utterly focused. “Then *beg*, sweetheart.”