#I need a fag(cigarette)

[sgt-tombstone]

Dance You Off My Mind

Civilian AU where Soap got broken up with by his long-term boyfriend and his best friend Gaz tells him to come visit in London for a week or two (both as distraction and to make sure that Soap isn't alone). Soap mopes for the first few days, and Gaz understands, but by the fourth day, he's over it and he drags Soap out to the nightclub around the corner to get smashed (hopefully in several ways).

Soap is hesitant at first. He hasn't been dancing in a long time; his boyfriend (ex-boyfriend, he has to remind himself) never enjoyed the club scene, so he had stopped going out. For a while, he sticks to the wall, nursing his drink, watched Gaz on the dance floor. When he finishes his first drink, though, Gaz presses another into his hand, and that's how he finds himself three drinks deep and in the middle of the crowd, whirling like he owns the dance floor, not a care in the world.

Simon is ex-military and picked up a job as a security guard/bouncer at the nearest gay club just to keep himself sane. He has a strict, self-imposed (and possibly club-imposed, he's not really sure but it's never mattered) rule not to even flirt with customers. He's gotten more propositions than he can count in the years he's been here, and he's turned them all down. He might look good (he makes sure to keep himself in shape because it helps to both look like he could throw London's largest bear out and also have the actual strength to back it up), but he's working, and his job is to keep an eye out, to keep everyone safe.

The man with the mohawk, however, has caught Simon's eye several times. He's there with someone, but that hasn't stopped him from giving Simon a once-over so salacious that it should be illegal. He has to stop himself from falling into the man's magnetic allure, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his jaw against the temptation. The pair leave just before the club closes, stumbling against each other as they exit, and Simon tries his best to push them from his mind as he helps clean and close.

When he steps out into the chilled night air, he's shocked to find a mohawk waiting for him, the man leaning against the brick wall nonchalantly, and this time, he doesn't resist the pull. He pulls out a fag and offers one to the other man, exchanging names over twin glowing tips and exhales of smoke. As the other man, Soap (weird fuckin' name, but who is he to judge? He went by Ghost for almost his entire adult life), is obviously less drunk than he had been when he had left the club the first time; either time and cold air have sobered him, or he's a damn good actor. Either way, Simon has absolutely no qualms about tilting his head up to press a soft kiss to his lips, especially when Soap whines and presses impossibly closer, his mouth tasting of smoke and ash instead of liquor. His eyes are bright, clear, and eager when they part, and Simon can't wait to get this beautifully responsive man into his bed.

He ends up putting a ring on his finger, in the end, and all of their friends graciously pretend to be shocked by the news (though Gaz does roll his eyes and mutter "it's about damn time" when he thinks that Soap can't hear him)

[endykelopaedia]

have never felt as frustrated & uncomfortable as a transmasc and with other transmascs as i have after delving into transandrophobia as a topic this shit is fr poison. HAVE felt as frustrated & uncomfortable as a black transmasc around white queers as i have delving into transandrophobia before bc a lot of yall are also real racist in real life too. i need to eject these brainworms so bad i need to... eject these brainworms.... soo bad...

[heatwa-ves]

[natjennie]

they'd never put it in the show but I'd genuinely kill for captain to get like really comfortable calling himself gay esp with slurs in the way we tumblr girlies do like. I'd do anything for him to be giving some more decorating advice and alison be like "wow why are you so good at this" and he goes "well it's simply my untouchable faggot swagger"

[klinefelterrible]

I need a pack of twenty homies following me around with their dicks ready for action anytime I get stressed or nervous

[wemmbuhateranon]

i might be misogynistic because I dont indulge in romantic yuri pairings. I prefer my yuri in doomed qprs who cling to each other in hopes of finding themselves. and slop yaoi ig make them homoerotic and gay and theybhate each other.

[heart-shaped-chains]

I need someone to obsess* over tbh

[anti-gravity-insanity]

Dragon knife, pen, lighters (2x), fidget of some sort, hand sanitizer, cigarettes, spare change, earbuds, wallet, altoids

@ people who carry bags everywhere what do you put in them what is there to bring other than chapstick, keys, phone and maybe a tampon why are you packing a suitcase to be outside for 5 hours

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Cherry Bomb

Sirius Black x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral (female receiving), soft!dom sirius, underage smoking, brief underage drinking, rough sex, pretty good sex imo, this all leads to a bigger plot i promise !!

summary: you’ve got a plan, and that plan starts with a simple shag with a simple man. sirius black.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: i used two beautiful prompts from this beautiful account @eloquentmoon and they are as followed.

11. “Louder, let me hear you”

28. “I want to have my way with you”

i listened to fat bottomed girls by queen during this and god did it help. anyway, enjoy :)

~~~

If boys could be considered easy, Sirius Black would be the easiest boy in all of Hogwarts. To shag Sirius Black, a girl only needs to meet a short list of requirements. One, she must be fit. Two, she must not be a virgin. And three by far the most important, she must be desperate for Sirius Black.

That’s why he was the first on the list. He was the easiest.

~~~

You stare in the mirror for a few seconds. Everything seems alright. Your dress is tight, your makeup is done, and most of all your plan is set. You turn to your friend and gesture to yourself.

“You’re stunning, as always. I don’t get why you’ve been insisting on doing this. What’s the goal?” Your friend says.

“Some fun I suppose.” You look at the clock on the dorm's wall. “I better be going, parties not going to last forever. Neither is Mr. Black’s smoke break.”

“Have a good time then.”

You grab your purse and start for the door. “Will do. See you tomorrow.”

After a few minutes of walking, you find Mr. Black exactly where you predicted him to be. He’s sitting on one of the benches, a cigarette between his lips. You casually step out into the moonlight, your hand rummaging through your purse. An unlit cigarette is held between two of your fingers, you make a sound of disapproval as you continue pretending to search your bag.

“All right there miss?”

You look up from your bag and shake your head. “Forgot my wand in my dorm.” You pretend to just notice the cigarette between his lips. “Mind helping a lady out with a smoke?”

“Why of course,” he answers. He gestures for you to come closer, and you gladly comply. “But I’m going to need your name first.”

“Why’s that? All I’m asking for is a quick light,” you reply.

He smirks. “If you know mine, I feel it’s only polite to know yours.”

“I don’t know yours, so we’re even. Anyway, how about that light now?”

Without another word, he pulls out his wand. You stick the cigarette between your lips and lean down. He’s surprised, you can tell from the way his eyes shift. Nevertheless, he lights the end of your cigarette. You lean back and take a long breath of smoke. It feels all too familiar in your lungs. You take a step back and pull the cigarette from your lips, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“Y/n y/l/n.”

“Pardon?”

You look down at him. “My name, it’s y/n y/l/n. I’m from Ravenclaw, probably why you haven’t heard of me.”

“I’m Sirius Black from Gryffindor,” he replies.

“Ah Gryffindor, that’s where I’m heading actually. Heard there’s a big party up there, why aren’t you there?” You ask, sticking the cigarette between your lips again.

He shrugs. “Needed a small break. ‘Suppose it’s a good thing, right? Or else you wouldn’t have that precious fag between your lips. Perhaps it’s fate.”

“I don’t believe in that nonsense.” You pretend to check your watch. “Seems like the time is flying by. I’ve got to run before all the firewhiskey is gone.”

You drop your cigarette to the ground and smoosh it with your boot. When your eyes meet his again, you’re happy to see the slight shift. He’s curious, you can tell. Good. Curious is good. You give him a small smile.

“Nice to meet you Sirius Black from Gryffindor, ‘suppose I’ll see you up there, till then,” you say, giving him a small wink before turning on your heels and starting for the doors.

“Nice to meet you too Y/n y/l/n from Ravenclaw!” You hear him call from behind, but you don’t acknowledge it.

Phase one is done.

It’s almost an hour later when the second phase begins. You’re dancing to the beat of Queen’s newest hit, your hips swaying in a way you hope is entrancing. One or two shots of firewhiskey have been down your throat already, and you’re tempted to reach for a third, but that’s when you see him.

He’s across the room, his dark eyes practically glued to you. Despite how much you’ve planned this moment, you can’t help the butterflies that take over your stomach. Sirius Black, one of the most popular boys in the school, wants you. You lick your lips and watch as he lifts his hand, gesturing to you to go to him like he had earlier in the night.

You inhale one last breath before beginning the walk to him.

It’s the last time you’ll walk straight for a day or two.

And so, phase three begins.

~~~

You gasp as your face meets one of the pillows on his bed. You try to get back up on all fours, but it feels nearly impossible. With one of Sirius’s hands presses down on the small of your back, while the other grips one of your hips you’re lucky your legs haven’t given out yet. He fucks you relentlessly, and you’ve never loved anything more.

“Fuck Sirius,” you moan, you can’t catch your breath. Your orgasm is close. “Sirius.”

“Louder, let me hear you.” His voice is like music to your ears. “Let them all hear you love.”

“ ’M gonna cum Sirius,” you say, a bit louder than your previous words. “Fuck I’m so close please don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

You cum a few seconds later, your whole body shaking as you do. Sirius doesn’t falter for even a moment, making your orgasm ten times more pleasurable. When you’re done, he pulls out and flips you over onto your back. Your eyes meet and you almost audibly moan.

How could someone be so bloody handsome?

He lowers himself so he’s on top of you, his body held up by his two hands placed on either side of your head. You wrap your arms around him, and as he thrusts inside you once again, you let your nails drag down his back. He kisses your neck sloppily, causing you to whimper.

“Have you never been shagged properly?”

You can’t help the small laugh that leaves you. “I suppose not.”

“Something mustn’t be right because your pussy is by far one of the best I’ve ever had.” He presses himself so deep inside you, that you wince in pain. He’s reached your cervix. “So soft, so warm, so tight. In fact, I think I need a taste.”

He pulls out of you again and quickly kisses down your body, pausing only to suck hard on one of your nipples. After that, his tongue is on your stomach, your navel, your...

“Sirius, what are you-”

“I want to have my way with you.”

Your back arches as he begins to lick your clit. Your thighs clench around his head, and your hands move to his hair. You squeeze your eyes shut, the pleasure almost too much for you to handle. He eats you out as if he’s been starved his entire life. His lips and tongue are so soft, so warm. Your second orgasm comes far quicker than the first.

“Perfect taste.”

He begins to crawl up your body, his mouth shining with your cum. You don’t hold yourself back from kissing him, in fact, you’re the one who initiates it. You love the taste of yourself on his lips, it’s one of the most attractive things you’ve ever encountered.

After a minute or two you push him down onto the bed and crawl on top of him. From the way he’s grinning up at you, to the way his gorgeous hair is sprawled out on the mattress, you can’t help the words that slip from your mouth.

“None of the gossips ever mentioned how empowering it is to have the great Sirius Black underneath you.”

He raised a brow. “I thought you didn’t know who I am.”

“I uh...” You give him a small smile and begin to move your hips back and forth, his cock sliding between your incredibly wet folds. “I knew you didn’t know my name, so I pretended not to know yours. To make it even.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but it also wasn’t the complete truth either.

Sirius’s eyes flutter shut, his hands moving to grip your hips. “I know your name now y/n y/l/n.”

“And you will remember it,” you reply. “Not like all those other girls whose names you forget the next morning.”

“Course not love.”

“It’s not a question.” You lift your hips and slowly begin to sink down on his cock. His fingers dig into your skin, you place your hands on his chest. “It’s a statement. I’m going to spell it out for you.”

You start to rock back and forth and up and down, just the way you know drives guys mad. Sirius is no different. Except, unlike the others, he doesn’t bother to hold back from moaning his approval. You lean down after a few minutes, so your lips are almost touching his ear, and with each movement of your hips, you say a letter of your name.

So, by the time you reach your third orgasm and Sirius reaches his first, your name is properly engraved in his head.

When everything is done and you’re both spent, he holds you in his arms. Your head rests on his chest, and you listen to his gentle heartbeat. The two of you share a cigarette in silence. It’s not uncomfortable in the slightest. Sirius Black has that effect on people.

As you stare at the wall you wonder how you’re supposed to move forward with the plan. You never expected such aftercare from the school player or such kindness during the shag. He’s a very giving lover, contrary to the popular belief that he’s simply another boy who enjoys using girls for his pleasure. You take one last long drag of the cigarette before handing it back to him and closing your eyes.

“I think I quite like you, y/n y/l/n,” he suddenly says, his voice barely above a whisper.

This plan might be harder than you thought.

[smok3ygoth]

SANCTUARY

Summary: After a chaotic day, you head to the pub and bump into Louis, which blossoms into something beautiful. [1.3k]

—

Tonight, you find yourself at the local pub, seeking solace in your usual escape. As you sip your vodka and Coke, the familiar rhythm of the low music surrounds you, creating a comforting haze that drowns out your racing thoughts.

You swayed gently, letting the world outside fade away, if only for a little while. You'd been inside for hours, drinking and giggling to yourself, realising just how ridiculous your life had become.

"Can't fucking believe this."

After an exhausting eight-hour shift, you were so ready to unwind and enjoy some TV time with your lovely boyfriend, but then everything changed.

Once you got home, you heard squeaking from upstairs, like someone was bouncing on the bed. You didn't bother changing; you stormed up the stairs and burst into your bedroom.

"What the actual fuck?"

There, right in front of you, was one of your best friends getting bent over by your boyfriend—the guy you'd been with for five years, and someone you’d known forever.

"Wait—"

"I don't want to fucking hear it. You better be gone by the time I get back or you'll regret it." You'd said rather calmly, which is undoubtedly scarier than screaming at them.

And now, here you are at the bar, alone.

"Fuck, I need some fresh air." You grabbed your drink and went to sit outside on one of the empty benches. You reached into your back and you swore you had a pack of fags in there.

"For fucksake, could this day get any worse?" You said this right before someone accidentally spilled some of their beer on you.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" The woman apologised, but you could tell she was very pissed, so you just waved it off with a smile.

"Guess I'll just sit here and sip my drink," you said to yourself, hoping the night would turn around. You pulled out your phone, thinking about what series of movies you could dive into later to forget all this.

Then, a hand reached out in front of you, offering a cigarette. You looked up, surprised at the man standing before you. You took the cigarette and placed it between your lips as his hand came up to light it for you.

Inhaling deeply, you asked, "How did you know I needed a smoke?"

"I've seen you here a few times, crying, and I've always offered you a smoke." You blushed at his words.

Well, that's embarrassing.

Taking another long, deep inhale of the cigarette, you asked, "Aren't you that singer? What's your name?"

"Louis Tomlinson, and what may your name be, darling?" The pet name sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Why did it suddenly feel so warm?

"It's Y/N, but you can call me whatever you like. Isn't it a bit risky just hanging out at the pub with no security?"

"A bit. My fans are respectful, though, so I love seeing them when I'm out. I'm guessing you're not a fan?" he joked, a playful glint in his eye.

"I could be a fan, but I might just be hiding it. You'll never know," you replied with a laugh, feeling the chemistry spark between the two of you.

"Well, I suppose I'll just have to find out then," he chuckled, leaning in a little closer. The warmth between you felt electric, and for a moment, the earlier chaos faded away.

"So, what brings you out here tonight? Besides, you know, the vodka?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by why you would be here all by yourself.

You took another drag from the cigarette, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "Honestly, I just needed a break from everything. It's been one of those days, you know?" You smiled, hoping to keep the conversation flowing.

"But now it seems like I've stumbled onto something a bit more interesting."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"You."

"You're quite bold, you know?"

"I am aware, yes." You giggle as he lights his own cigarette, offering you another since you'd finished yours.

You both sat there for a few minutes, enjoying the comforting silence that you both needed.

"Hey, Lou?"

"Yes, love?" He turned to you, a spark of intrigue in his eyes at the nickname you had given him.

"Would you like to—I don't know—be friends? We could go to my place and watch some TV since it's getting quite chilly out here, and I don't really want to drink anymore."

"Course we can, yeah. Don't want you walking home by yourself either." A smile spread across your face, gratitude shining in your eyes.

"Let's go then." You both finish your cigarettes, and you take his hand, leading the way to your place. It’s closer than Louis expected, but he’s not complaining.

Once inside, you kick off your shoes and drop your bag by the door. You quickly turn on the heating, eager to warm up from the chilly air outside.

"Would you like a drink or something?" you ask as he settles onto the comfortable sofa in the living room.

"Tea, please, love."

"On it." You smile at him as he gets comfortable on the sofa, making himself at home while scrolling through a bunch of different movies.

As you focus on making tea for both of you, your mind drifts, and you momentarily forget about your boyfriend—now ex-boyfriend.

"Y/N?" You spin around, shocked to see him still lingering in your house.

"I told you to get the fuck out."

"Wait—please let me explain!"

"What is there to explain? It was pretty obvious what was happening. I'm just curious about how long this has been going on." He avoids your gaze, mumbling.

"Hmm, what was that?"

"Two years."

"Wow. This all happened under my roof? You're fucking disgusting. Get out. Now."

"You heard her, get the fuck out." Louis spoke.

"Who the fuck are you?" Louis steps closer, wrapping his arm around your waist—a protective gesture that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Your replacement. I'm better than you, and you know it, so fuck off." Louis grinned, a mix of amusement and defiance in his eyes as he watched your ex-boyfriend storm out, slamming the door behind him.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Louis' boldness and the way he handled the situation. "Thanks for that. He really needed to go."

Louis shrugged casually. "No worries, love. No one messes with my friends like that."

You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, grateful for Louis' unexpected presence and unwavering support. "I owe you one, Lou."

He flashed you a warm smile. "Nah, we're friends now. That's what friends are for, right?"

Right, friends. But did you want to be just friends? Of course not. You didn't know how it happened so quickly, but you knew you had developed some romantic feelings for Louis.

"Lou?" Your voice wavered as you spoke, looking up at him with shy eyes.

"Hm?"

"I think I like you. I know we've only just gotten to know each other, but I like you, and I know you probably don't feel—" He cut off your rambling with a soft kiss on the lips, a smile spreading warmth across your face.

"What were you saying, hmm, love?" You gazed into his eyes, feeling a rush of courage. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him again, this time slower and deeper, savouring the moment as his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer.

"I like you too," he whispered against your lips, making you grin and kiss him harder. The world around you faded as you lost yourself in the moment, feeling the warmth of his body and the electric connection between you.

As you pulled away slightly, breathless and smiling, you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"So, what now?" you asked, a playful glint in your gaze. Louis chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Now, we take it one day at a time, together." With that, he leaned in for another kiss, and in that moment, you realised this was just the start of something truly beautiful. He had become your safe haven, your sanctuary amidst the chaos.

—

This is my first fic on this app because I have no idea how to use it, and it needs more Louis fics. I'm trying to figure out how to make a masterlist and all that, but for now, I'm just going to leave this little thing here. :) P.S. This is my first fic ever, so please don't hate. Thanks! xD

Please send requests! <3

[dionysus-drabbles]

Constantly on the cusp (of tryin’ to kiss you)

pairing: sid jenkins x f!reader

summary: you hooked up with sid all summer. it becomes a hell of a lot harder trying to navigate your relationship when you’re back at college together.

word count: ~2.4k

warnings: fluff, smut, & a hint of angst, freud references, dug out my a level psych textbooks for this one, possible mischaracterisation, reader smokes, reader is described as wearing a bra, shirt, shorts, and tights but it’s easily overlooked, protected piv sex, teasing, one or two mentions of marijuana, hickeys, ghosting, one mention of alcohol, sid is mentioned to have kissed another girl, refs to casual sex between sid & reader.

a/n: if ur the anon who requested, hi! hope I did ur req justice, i tried to include fluff, smut, and a little angst - I got a little carried away! hope I characterised him well enough & you enjoy it 💋 title from do i wanna know? by the arctic monkeys

It’s a warm Friday night, the cool breeze blowing through the window serving as a distant threat of the September weather yet to come. The sky is streaked with pink and purple, the gold of the sun setting shining in the horizon, the type of night you’ll know you’ll see as nostalgic as you grow older, and you’re in Sid’s room. You’re sat at his desk, reading from one of your psychology textbooks, pausing for a minute so Sid can keep up with writing notes, but the telltale scratching sound of pen on paper doesn’t come. When you spin your chair around, Sid’s lying on his bed, fingers laced over his stomach, eyes fixed on the ceiling - pen and notebook by his side.

“Oi,” you say, standing up and plopping down on the bed next to him, the shift in weight making him sit up and meet your gaze. “You’re meant to be taking notes,”

“It’s only September,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, suit yourself. Have fun failing your a-levels while we all go to uni, though, yeah?”

“Don’t be a twat. Why can’t I read and you make the notes?”

“Made them already,”

“Why can’t I use yours, then?”

“You’re seriously asking that?” You cock a brow, letting out a snort of amusement. You fall into silence for a minute, one that’s nothing if not awkward. Following your summer, being in Sid’s room without so much as a spliff, let alone your clothes on, felt unnatural. You’d found yourself fucking Sid for the first time after the first party of the summer, and it had quickly turned into a regular occurrence. Throughout August, the elephant in the room had been September, and you supposed it had been silently agreed to forget it ever happened. Easier said than done, based on the way your thighs pressed together whenever he moved vaguely in your direction.

“Can we not do this tonight, at least? Reckon we could make it to Tony’s party,” he suggested, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Psychodynamic approach isn’t going to learn itself, Sidney,”

“Fuck Freud. He just makes this shit up, it doesn’t make sense,”

“See, if you’d revised, you’d be calling it unfalsifiable,” you teased, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of your pocket.

“Piss off, let me have one,” Sid insisted as you lit it, blowing the smoke from your first toke in his face instead.

“Never taught manners, hm?” You snarked, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Please?” He countered, if reluctant. You turned to face him - when did you two get this close together? You can feel the heat of his breath on your face, smell his breath, and you suddenly realise his eyes are on your lips, not the cigarette. It’s instinctive now, the way you tilt your head ever so slightly when he’s this close to you, the way you lean in ever so slightly. His lips are about to brush yours when your phone beeps with a text and you both jolt back. You read it, shoving the cigarette into his hand as you stand up.

“I need to head home. Finish the fag. You can keep the textbook.” You leave without waiting for a response.

You have two unread messages!

sid: same time nxt week?

sid: will do wrk this time

When he next comes to revise it’s at your house, and somehow that makes you feel like you have the upper ground in this emotional cold war more than anything else. Your stomach turns whenever you think of how near you were to kissing the week before, and you’re not entirely sure if it’s butterflies or nausea. Either way, you’re sickeningly fixated on it. Unfortunately, the one time he’s focused, keeping to his promise to do work, you’re distracted.

“We’ve finished psychodynamic. Take five before humanistic?” You suggest, and he nods, leaning to open the window before coming to sit beside you on the bed. You give him a cigarette before you get one for yourself this time, but curse when you feel in your pockets to find them empty. And, like he can read your mind, he offers a lighter. You go to take it from him, cigarette between your lips, but he lights it for you instead. It’s oddly intimate, and you’re sure the feeling in your stomach is butterflies this time - and every other time.

You’re quiet as you smoke. Apparently, your mind thinks this is the perfect time to replay every single interaction you’ve had with Sid in this room. Every smoke, every kiss, every fuck, and it’s becoming harder and harder to keep your resolve.

“Hey,” he says, nudging your leg with his foot. “Is there…are you okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, yeah, we uh- we should probably get back to-“ you stub your cigarette out as you speak, the butt of his already sat in the ashtray, but you’re not given the chance to finish your sentence as his lips press against yours. It’s a shock, but the farthest thing from unwelcome. One of his hands entangles in your hair, the other on your waist, and one of yours caresses the skin of his cheek whilst the other cards through the tufts of hair his beanie leaves revealed at the nape of his neck. Your tongue presses at his lips, compelling them to slide open, and you taste the smoke in his mouth, reminiscent of the cigarettes stubbed out only a moment before, stifling the taste of weed. He’s just as addictive, if not more than, and you think that you’d happily never smoke again if he said you could be together, have this regularity with him.

There’s a moment of awkward shuffling as Sid readjusts his position, and you take the minute to catch your breath. His back’s to your bed frame, and his hand travels south to your thigh and nudges with his pointer and middle finger, and you’ve been hooking up long enough to know he wants you in his lap.

“Are you- can I?” He stammers, hand having moved to the hem of your shirt, looking down at it before meeting your eyes, and god, you’re not sure why you ever thought you had the higher ground with him. You pull it off for him, and his breathing falters, leaving him shakily as his eyes are level with your breasts. You can feel his hardening cock twitch in his trousers belong you, and all of a sudden it’s summer again, and you don’t care about exams, universities, anything but each other.

His lips attach to your chest, sucking dark bruises onto your flesh. They’re discreet, they’ll be hidden by your shirt, but they’re there, and he gave them to you. You grind your hips down into him and he lets out a broken moan, voice cracking with pleasure halfway through. The possibility of coming before he’s even inside you crosses his mind, and he knows he needs to fuck you as soon as possible. He helps you manoeuvre until you’re beneath him, hands shaking with desperation as he fiddles with the button on your shorts, tugging the zip down and sliding his hand beneath the shorts, the tights, taking a minute to slide his fingers across your cunt through your pants, dragging his gaze back to yours with a grin.

“All this, already?” He mocks, tilting his head to the side as you break eye contact and squirm from the pressure of his fingers.

He knows he’s in no position to talk, and he knows the risk of blowing his load in his jeans is getting more and more realistic, so he wastes no time in pushing your clothing down to your mid thighs and nudging a finger into your heat whilst his thumb circles lightly around your clit, painfully teasing. You throw your head back, whining, and he uses his other hand to stroke your cheek, grinning like a kid in a candy store. “Need you to be quiet, yeah? Don’t want anyone hearing, need this all for me,” the possessiveness mixed with his thumb pressing firmly on your clit and the addition of a second finger has you clenching around him, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you try to muffle any noise that might slip out. You know you’re close, your fingers scrabble for purchase on Sid’s back, one hand pulling his beanie off and allowing you to reach your hand into his hair.

He knows you’re close, attentive to the way your legs start trembling and you tense up, and he withdraws any contact before you do. Any complaints you make he hushes, murmuring into your ear as he frees himself of his own jeans, pulling a condom from his pocket in the process.

“You’re so mean,” You whine, hands reaching to help roll the condom onto his cock, tip red and already leaking precum.

“Yeah, m’sorry, sorry for being mean,” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he moves back over you. “Let me…need to make it up to you now, right?” He asks, aligning his cock with your entrance. He kisses you as he pushes inside, any noises either of you would make muffled into each other’s mouths. He rambles as he fucks into you, chests almost pressed together, as physically close to you as possible.

“So good. So gorgeous. Been missing doing this, y’know? Made me wait so long to have you, got me going crazy,” he nips at the juncture of your jaw and neck between sentences, each word punctuated with the type of slow stroke that has you arching your back into him, and you find yourself pulling his t-shirt off and running your hands over his skin as if it’s the last time you’ll ever feel it, smiling as you watch the muscles in his abdomen tense and relax as your fingertips brush against his hips. He picks up the pace ever so slightly, moving one of your legs so it presses against his waist and your heel digs into his back, and you mirror it with the other. He kisses you again as he watches you try to stifle a moan from the new angle, nails raking up and down the pale, smooth expanse of his back. Neither of you last much longer, and he has to leave within the hour. You’re left with a dull ache between your legs, a chest tingling from where his lips attacked it, and heart pounding with adrenaline. Oh, and a text. One that comes precisely seven minutes after he leaves.

sid: u free same time next wk?

Then next week, you’re left waiting. Five minutes turns into fifteen. Fifteen into thirty. Thirty into an hour. You check your phone.

You have zero new messages!

You: nvr heard of warning sum1 when ur busy, sidney?

You don’t receive a response. He’s not in second period psychology on Monday, and you catch Michelle as you leave class.

“D’y’know where Sid is? He just aired me on Friday,” you say, lugging your bag onto your shoulder. Michelle shrugs.

“Probably on a comedown. You should’ve been there Friday, everything was going pretty hard, you’d have loved it. Last saw him then,” she shrugs, and your heart sinks. Oh. For a moment, your chest falls. Why would he do that? Shag you and ghost you? Why didn’t he do that in the summer, if he wanted to? The hurt quickly shifts into rage, a furious red feeling that seems to engulf you. If he wanted to play it that way, play the ghosting game, you’d let him. Fine. You didn’t need him. You resolved not to message him, going as far as to change his name in your contacts, but the texts you received that evening made it hard to stick to.

do not answer: (y/n)?

do not answer: im sorry, yeah?

do not answer: i need 2 talk 2 u

do not answer: coming ovr

You don’t say no. You should’ve said no, you know it’s better if you say no, you know you’re supposed to want to say no. But you don’t. When the knock comes on the door fifteen minutes later, you’re hoping it’s him. September weather has settled over Bristol, and it’s pouring with rain, so you end up opening the door to a particularly rain-drenched Sid Jenkins. He makes no effort to come inside, though.

“I’m sorry,” he says it before you’ve even fully opened the door.

“It’s fine, I don’t care, but, like, don’t expect any more tutoring, yeah?” you shrug, hoping your lie that you don’t care is more believable than it seems. He lurches forward and kisses you, a hand firmly on either side of your face, and when he pulls away you drag him inside and slam the door, staring at him with a sort of offended disbelief.

“I was gonna message, alright?! But then this girl kissed me at Tony’s for pres, and…I don’t know, I called her your name, and I just freaked out. I’m sorry for shagging and ghosting you, but it’s just…I can’t not date you, y’know? You’re just so nice and smart, and you actually listen to what I say. I’ve never had that before, I got scared. Tell me to leave, I will, I just needed to…I needed to tell you.” Sid rambles, and he could not be any more shocked when you kiss him. His arms wrap around your waist, and you don’t even care that he reeks of leftover sweat, booze, and weed from the weekend, or that his clothes are soaking yours. He’s yours, he thinks you’re nice, and smart, and pretty, and he wants to date you. You smile as you pull away, pushing his glasses back up his nose from where they’ve slipped and thumbing a section of wet hair off his forehead.

“So, dating, yeah?” You grin, still holding each other.

“I don’t know, I-do you want to?”

“Yes, Sid, I want to,” you giggle, and you’ve barely finished speaking before you’re kissing again. “Y’know, Freud would have said that calling another girl my name was an example of parapraxis”

“Are you really mentioning Freud right now?”

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Lonely Nights

Requested: Yes [Are you willing to write toxic Ghost? Like after sex he just kinda leaves you to play on his xbox?]

Warnings: Lack of aftercare, inattentive partner

A/N: Gahhhhh, I was very hesitant about this one. I do think Simon can be very…..not great to partners, even ones he’s close with. Especially the ones he’s close with. I think he has a hard time registering his partner’s feelings and remembering the courtesies of aftercare. I think he’s more used to one night stands that he kicks out after he’s done with them, not people who put their whole hearts in his hands. You know? So he kinda just…..accidentally treats a partner like that because it’s what he knows.

Ghost has never been the most….in touch with his emotions and those of the people around him. Even yours, as close as you two might be. It’s just not something he really manages to do well. He tries, God knows he tries, but he just fails, time and time again. And you’re left to pick up the pieces of yourself that he broke off with every accidental pain he caused. And you know he doesn’t mean to, that he just doesn’t know how to do this, be in a normal relationship, a loving one, but you’re not sure how much more of this you can take.

This would be one of those times. You were hurting everywhere after he had been too rough with you, practically on the verge of tears when he finally rolled off of your sore body, snatching his pack of cigarettes and his old beaten up lighter from the nightstand before making his way out into the living room like he usually did. You were stunned, for lack of a better word. Shocked that he had actually left you like this. You knew he wasn’t the best at these things, but how could he not notice the state you were in? Your emotions? Your pain? How could-how could he just leave you like this? How could he be so oblivious to something so plain to see?

Your legs shake as you crawl out of Ghost’s bed, almost slipping and falling onto your ass in your attempts to get up, hobbling out to the living room with a thin blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You wanted to call out to your lover, beg him to come back to bed with you, but your throat felt like one big bruise and when you opened your mouth to speak, you could only wheeze.

And then you saw him, lounging half naked on the couch, cigarette in hand as he watched rugby on the tv. You knew he noticed you coming in, he always did. But just like all the other times, he didn’t even bother to acknowledge your existence, just taking a long drag from his fag before puffing the smoke out through his nose, looking all the part of a lazy dragon who’d just fattened himself up on some knight who died screaming in agony.

Whimpering, you stepped closer, silently begging for his attention and affection when you sat beside him on the couch, croaking quietly to him as you touched his arm. A twitch was all you received in response, having to manually wrap his arm around your shoulders for any kind of comfort. He didn’t pull away, but neither did he lean in, stroke you, pull you closer. He was dead weight around you, devoid of the affection you so desperately needed in this instant. With a whimper, deprived and needy, you lean in closer, nuzzling your head against his chest like a lonely kitten, trying to get even an ounce of his attention.

“Not now, Love.” Was all you got, Ghost’s cold hand sliding under your chin and lifting your head up and away from him. “Go back to bed if you’re feeling tired.”

Heartbroken, you try to protest but just end up coughing, hand clutching your pained throat to try and stifle the growing ache. That at least earned you a little rub on your back from Ghost but it ended all too soon for you, not even a word of protest from him as you stood and shuffled back to your shared room, his eyes laser focused on the tv the whole time, while yours kept hopefully glancing back at him, only to end up disappointed once more as the door shut behind you with no interruptions except for the tv turning up just a bit louder right before you started crying, curling up on the bed and seeking what little warmth remained under the covers, face buried in Simon’s pillow and hoping beyond hope that he’d come in and scoop you up into his arms, apologize for leaving you so hurt and sad, promise to never do it again.

But it never came. And you spent the whole night alone in that big bed until Ghost finally came back in, just the slightest bit tipsy as he crawled onto his side of the bed, giving you nothing more than the lightest kiss to your head before he was dozing off for the night.

And that. That was what broke you, your heart shattering in your chest and cracking the fragile dam that you’d built up against your tears. Through shaking shoulders and quiet sobs, you felt resolve sink into your bones.

You couldn’t take this anymore.

[metalomagnetic]

Any chance you can share an excerpt of the Harry/Sirius fic you have planned? 🥺

“That’s teenage years for you, kid; you’re always angry.”

Harry frowns. “You think that’s all there is to it?”

“Sure. I was that way, too.”

“Was?” Harry asks, and he’s finally smiling. A tiny thing, frail, but it’s a smile. “Seems like you’re still going through your teenage years, then.”

“Cheeky bastard.” Sirius swats him over the head, playfully.

The frail smile turns into a grin. There’s a mischievous side to Harry, buried deep under the trauma, the burden of being the Boy Who Lived.

Harry reaches for the bottle again. “Gross,” he shudders, making a face after he swallows. “Does it get better? The taste?”

“Eventually,” Sirius says, opening a second bottle, now that he relinquished the first to Harry. “You get used to it.”

He got Regulus drunk in this very room some twenty years before.

His mother sighs in his head. She sounds resigned.

“How about those?” Harry nods at the pack of cigarettes Mundungus snuggled in for Sirius. “Will you teach me?”

“Not much to teach,” Sirius says, giving Harry a fag, taking one for himself.

He lights them with his wand and tells Harry to breathe the smoke in.

Predictably, he chokes.

“Being a bad boy isn’t easy, Harry,” Sirius mocks.

“It’s disgusting,” Harry wheezes, still choking, but when he calms he tries again, to the same result.

By the time he finishes, Harry grows even paler, says he’s a bit dizzy.

How innocent he is; how young. Sirius remembers the first time he smoked, that dizziness Harry speaks of.

He was thirteen, and life was good, even if it didn’t feel like it. Now he wishes he could go back to those times.

Would you abandon us again? If you could go back, would you still betray us? the voices demand.

“I’ll teach you to ride a bike,” Sirius promises. “Next summer. I’ll buy one. Miss riding, anyway.”

“Drinking, smoking, riding bikes, moping around in corners, being angry- what else is on the requirement list for being a bad boy?”

“I don’t mope around,” Sirius argues. “And never in corners. I brood in full view of everyone.”

Harry laughs. It might be the whiskey, but there’s some colour returning to his face. He almost looks alive.

He’ll die, eventually. Everyone around you dies, brother.

Regulus was always a spoilsport.

“Alright, alright. Brooding, then. What else?”

“Fucking,” Sirius says, just to embarrass him, and it works like a charm. Harry goes red, instantly. “Can’t be a bad boy if you don’t fuck around.”

Harry looks away. He runs his fingers through his hair again, making it stick out more than usual. It still doesn’t remind him of James.

When James did it, there was intention behind it. He liked his hair like that, and he knew some girls liked it, too.

When Harry does it, there’s nothing intentional about it. It screams of insecurity, something that wasn’t in James’ vocabulary.

“Well,” Harry says, so red he’s turning purple. “You’ll have to teach me how to do that, too.”

A warning rings in Sirius’ head.

Don’t poke at it, his mother advises him. Leave it be, Sirius.

Sirius never listened to her, so he won’t start now.

“You know girls that won’t mind your godfather joining you for a bit of fun?” Sirius teases. “Why, Harry, you’re already running with a bad crowd in that case.” Harry snorts, gulps more whiskey. “I barely know any girls at all,” he mumbles. “But I’m sure no girl would say no to you; it’s more likely they’ll protest to me, really.”

“First lesson,” Sirius says. “No self-depreciating jokes. No poor-me attitude. No one finds that attractive.”

“Well, that’s who I am,” Harry snaps, that temper of his rearing its head for a second.

“Even so, you hide that shit if you want to pull birds. Pretend you’re confident, even when you aren’t.”

“That’s wrong, though. Misleading someone, lying-”

“Bad boys lie all the time.”

Harry huffs. He slumps back into the couch. “Forget it. I can’t be a bad boy.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Sirius agrees. “Plus, if you want to be really bad, you’d need to do some prison time. Not worth it, I assure you.”

“Being locked up in a cupboard doesn’t count?” Harry asks. “Did about ten years of that.”

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#381

“Wakey wakey.  Time to wake up….  Don’t try to move around too much.  As you are realizing, you are in a predicament.  You are lying in my basement, buck naked, tied up, gagged, collared, with a fuck pillow under your pelvis.  You ain’t going anywhere, anytime soon….

“We’ve never met, but we know each other.  We both do the same thing for work, but we are nothing alike.  This is what’s happening.  I am part of a nameless organization that takes faggots, trains them to be slaves, and sells them to buyers from around the world.  From what I’ve been told over the years, the faggots delivered to me want to drop off the grid and sold into slavery.  They turn themselves in to a collector, who then has them delivered to me.  I don’t know if that’s true as I don’t let any of the faggots talk other than to say, ‘Yes Sir!’ 

“Now for you, I was told your backstory.  It seems that you are a collector for a different kind of group.  I train fags who offer themselves up for the taking.  You seem to prefer the non-consensual abductions of twelve- to fifteen-year-old girls.  I don’t care that you prefer pussy over dicks, but I do draw the line with their age.

“As I said, I was told what you are.  That never happens.  Ever.  But it appears that you approached the ten-year-old niece of one of higher ups in the organization, and he recognized what and who you were.  That stupid move brought you here. 

“I have no idea who the higher up is nor do I care.  Hell, we don’t know any of the men that are in the other parts of my organization, let alone hear from them.  So I found it surprising to get a call from a higher up—who I haven’t heard from in a few years—that I am to train you personally.  You better fucking believe that I’m going to train the fuck out of you.

“I have been training faggots for nearly forty years.  This is my farm you are on.  Twelve hundred acres.  Twelve hundred acres with some of the most advanced surveillance and anti-escape deterrents.  I know of every person who steps foot on my property, and I know if a slave is ten feet away from where it is supposed to be.  The ankle cuffs, wrist cuffs, and collar have tracking devices in them.  The collar can deliver a shock to keep you in line at a moment’s notice.  And the ankle cuffs are set up that if you go beyond a certain perimeter, a numbing agent is injected causing your legs to go numb and become useless.  Escape is not possible.  In my twenty years at this location, I have only had one slave make it off property, but it was collected within three minutes of doing so.  That slave was brought back and tortured in front of all the other slaves as a deterrent.  And that was before all the tracking technology was put in.  So keep that in mind if you decide to do something stupid.

“Now,… for the past five minutes, I have been telling you the predicament you find yourself in.  I have been watching your reaction.  Being gagged, you can’t say anything, but your body language says it all.  You seem too calm and not surprised at the description of my organization.  No reaction really.  That tells me that you are familiar with an operation like this.  When I tell you that you were collected for stalking that niece, you don’t look shocked by that accusation.  That pretty much confirms what I was told,… not that it matters otherwise. 

“No, the only reaction I saw was when I tell you that I am going to do your training.  You looked panicked.  Your eyes went right to my bulge.  Oh yeah.  I noticed.  You are straight indeed.  I should say, ‘were straight.’  From this moment on, you will never go back to that life.  The only cunt in your future is the one I’m about to make out of this hole between your legs.

“You have a great ass, so flawlessly smooth.  On any other slave, this ass would be a huge selling feature.  But for you, it’s a source of pain.  I need to put out my cigarette somewhere.  Your asscheek is the best place to do it….  Scream motherfucker scream.  Your perfect ass is going to go through some changes, from being daily whipped to being used as an ashtray.  You are going to be scarred up for sure.

“For the next part, I need to take off my boots and get out of these overalls.  You are going to get acquainted with Otto.  That’s what some of the fag slaves and some of the trainers call my dick.  Otto, it means ‘eight’ in Italian.  I’m actually closer to nine inches, but nine in Italian is ‘Nove’ which doesn’t sound right.  It doesn’t roll over the tongue as nicely as Otto.  Hehe.

“Look up at me.  Look shithead!  Here’s Otto.  Look at the cock that is going to own your life.  Half hard, it’s bigger than yours.  Keep staring at my foreskin.  Otto needs to piss.  You will be trained on drinking piss.  That’s all the liquid you will be given.  And if you are wondering if that means that you will be trained on becoming a full toilet, let me say we stopped training our slaves on that a while back.  It was too time consuming, and the buyers weren’t interested in that feature.  But for you, the higher ups want you trained.  But that will have to wait.

“Are you…  you are…!  You’re crying!  About time!  Hold still.  Let me wash away those tears for you.  Piss is the best antidote to tears.  There’s no feeling in the world like starting to tear down a once proud man by simply pissing on his face.  It’s getting me hard.  Otto likes what he’s doing to you.  But he wants action.

“Normally, you would be sucking the last few drops out of my foreskin.  But I ain’t ungagging you yet.  Besides, Otto needs to turn a virgin ass into a gaping cunt. 

“Your hole is perfectly displayed, like it’s ready to be destroyed thanks to that fuck pillow and how wide your legs were spread and secured.  Oh look.  Your cock and balls are just hanging there,… exposed,…

“…Damn! Even with my bare feet, I can deliver one hell of a ball kick.  Ha! Ha!  Your screams mean everything to me.  You know, each and every one of my personal slaves are kicked in the balls every morning.  They need to be reminded of their place on a daily basis. 

“Now, you will be spared that daily torture.  And that’s not because I would never have you as my personal slave, and don’t worry I wouldn’t own such trash.  No, I’m going to castrate you, in one of the most painful ways.  I haven’t decided how yet.  I do know that I will leave your empty sack intact.  We have a urologist that will make changes to your dick so that you lose all ability to get hard and with a few snips to the nerves in the area, all physical sensation will be gone.  Essentially your dick will constantly just hang there and be utterly useless… other than to piss out of.  Every time you reach down there, you will only feel the shell of what you used to be.

“Awww you’ve done full on sob.  Here let me collect some of your tears.  Tears of cunts are the best lube. 

“Do you feel Otto at your hole?  Feel his weight in your crack?  He’s ready to go.  Can you feel his leak.  Lucky for you, you really got me leaking.  Feel that wetness?  That’s all you.  Virgin cunt meets wine bottle thick dick.

“Don’t fucking start resisting.  Your cherry is going to be popped.  Here goes. 

“Don’t fucking fight me.  It’s only going to be more painful for you.  You are making my dick even harder.

“LET ME IN!  I’m coming in.  Oh, you got my head.  You are really starting to piss me off.

“Urg!  There.  Normally I would let a cunt relax before I begin, but you don’t fucking deserve that.  Right to the… goddamned… root!  Fuck, you’re tight.  By the end of tonight, you will be a gaping mess. 

“Not only have I been lucky to have such a big dick, but I can cum multiple times a night.  My first load is always quick, but the second one goes on for hours.  Then I have a gang bang lined up for this cunt. 

“I’ll let someone else pop the cherry in your throat.  There’s no way I’m going to let Otto near your mouth, at least not while you still have a mouthful of teeth.  Oh yeah, those will be coming out as part of your transformation.

“Keep crying.  Oh man.  Oh fuck.  I’m getting close.  You ready to be bred?  You ready to make your transformation to cunt complete?  Here it cums.  Here it goddamned cums!  Ahh! Ahh! Fuuuuck!

“Holy shit!  That was… fuck. 

“Your cunt has one of my biggest loads in it.  That should help lubricate you up a bit for round two….  Don’t try to push me out.  Otto will come out when he wants to.  Right now, he just wants a minute to catch his breath.

“Cunt, you have nothing but hell ahead of you.  There will be no let up.  Today is about breaking you in.  Tomorrow will begin your life of pain.  We have a shitload planned for you.  I don’t know how long it will be for you to with us, but each day we will strip away what made you a man, a human. 

“You know, when we put a slave up for auction, we have transformed the fag into the best slave it could be.  We don’t do it for its wellbeing.  No, we want top dollar.  And we get top dollar.  That’s our reputation.

“But for you, I was given the instruction that your transformation should be so extreme that when you are put up for auction, without a reserve price, that you are so repulsively distorted that you are sold for the lowest amount we ever had for a slave.  That shouldn’t be a problem with all the branding, scarification, tattooing, deteething, and so on.  Your previous profession will be shared with your new owners so that they can keep up your hell. “Oh fuck.  All this talk of your pathetic life is getting me hard again.  I’m ready to begin round two.  This should last a few hours.”

[octuscle]

My professor is such a pain in the ass! I tried turning him into an average dumb college frat guy, but it’s not working!

Whew! Indeed, your professor is a tough nut to crack. He's as stiff as if he'd swallowed a stick. On time like a Swiss watch. And the strictest teacher imaginable. I'll see what I can do. Time is pressing, it's Friday and the exam period starts on Monday.

07:30. Your professor's shiny Volvo rolls into the faculty parking lot. He's always on time to the second. His suit may be cheap, but it's immaculate. And he walks into the staff room with his hair perfectly parted. No one notices the small tattoo on his forearm.

When he arrives at your lecture, it's like a sensation: he's not wearing polished Oxfords, he's wearing sneakers. Pretty cool, pretty expensive sneakers. And WHITE socks! He's never been seen wearing anything like that before. And you swear his stomach is flatter. Normally his jacket always conceals a tummy bulge. But now his silhouette is perfectly slim. Unfortunately, it doesn't change anything about his lecture. He's way too fast, firing his questions like a sniper in the direction of the students who weren't paying attention. He's a pain in the ass, and that hasn't changed yet.

During the lunch break, the professor is seen wearing jeans for the first time. Pretty crisp fitting jeans. He really has a tight ass. And damn: Does he actually have a beard shadow? Normally he's always perfectly shaved. You're sitting in the canteen with your bruhs when he approaches you and asks "All gud, bruhs? can one of you give me uh fag? I must have forgotten mine at home…" You are far too surprised not to give him a cigarette. "You're such uh lifesaver, dude," says your professor and asks what you're up to this weekend. You tell him about your plans to go to the sports bar, work out in the gym and maybe take a trip to the beach on Sunday. "Sick thing" replies the professor. "See you around, bruhs!" He leaves you with your mouths hanging open.

The professor leaves the parking lot in his open-top Mustang with loud hip-hop music and screeching tires. You grin broadly. Your plan seems to be working. You are sure of it when you meet the next day at the gym. Your professor has a cool haircut, a stylish beard and looks like he's a regular at the tattoo parlor. You greet each other with a fist bump. And when he takes off his sweaty T-shirt after two hours, you say goodbye with a chest bump. Damn, this guy has a killer body.

On the beach, your prof disappears from time to time with random people and goes to the trunk of his Mustang. Shit, he's selling drugs. Hashish or apparently steroids and other stuff. And at sunset you see him lying on his towel smoking pot while one of the musclemen from the gym massages his nipples. Fuck, the boner in his surfer shorts is impressive. You're very pleased with yourself. You don't need to be afraid of tomorrow. It's a good thing you didn't waste the weekend studying.

Hot picture, you think to yourself on Monday morning when you see your professor's latest post on Instagram. And then you read the caption: "Sicc training 2 start the new wk. Now let's go kicc sum student ass. I luv it when i c the airheads sweating over my exam questions"

Pic found @marechais

[wingedhallows]

prank gone wrong; marauders (sirius black)

pairing: marauders (sirius black) x reader | 2.1k words plot: the marauders prank one of your best friends, you're not too happy about it and take matters into your own hands, just to have one of them a bit smitten by you. authors note: hi, i brewed this up last night. I don't really know what this is but i hope u like it :) <3

navigation

“I forgot my textbook, fuck.” Amelia complained, hand on her forehead. You sighed and pushed your sunglasses up, squinting your eyes at her. You took a drag from your cigarette and spoke with a sigh.

“I’ll get it for you, I need another pack anyways.” She waved her hand, as if to swat your offer away. “You don’t have to.” She tried but you shook your head and lifted yourself to your feet. You took your ropes off, it was too hot anyways. “Just shut up.” You offered with a grin.

Without waiting for an answer you took off. It would be a rather long walk, the Slytherin dorm was the furthest away. You needed some time away from your the girls and a new pack of fags. 

Amelia, Philippa and Cecily were nice, not to misunderstand but they were shallow. Still you strangely loved them, how carefree they seemed. 

Their newest topic to gossip about was if Marlene Mckinnon had gotten a nose job over the summer break. She didn’t, not that you cared. She looked fine, just like she did the past five years.

You didn’t know her though, you didn’t know any Gryffindors to be honest, so you didn’t have any ground to speculate. 

The only Griffyindor you knew was Lily Evans. A muggle-born witch, not that that changed anything about her abilities.

She was kind, shy and had hung around with the infamous Marauders. Four boys who liked to play pranks on many. You didn’t care much, they never targeted you.

On your way back, your pack of cigarettes in your pocket and Amelia’s textbook in hand, you watched the sky, birds gliding above your head. You pushed a cigarette between your lips and lit it.

The smoke filled your lungs with a comforting feeling. You heaved a sigh and blew some more smoke through your lips. You wondered what they would talk about next? A poor Hufflepuff’s boobs or a Ravenclaws fake behavior to suck up to Slughorn?

You wouldn’t complain though, no matter how shallow they were, they were still your friends. They took care of you, cared for you and did their best to be good friends, since the first year they were all you had.

You caught sight of the courtyard and the blanket you had spread out to study on. The girls sat, laughing and talking. With another drag from your cigarette you flicked the stud away and made your way to the three.

“Here you are.” Philippa smiled at you. She patted the spot next to her and Amelia reached for the book in your hands.

“Thanks.” She smiled at you and you gave a smile back. “No problem.” 

“This is so good.” Cecily smiled and drank a bit more from a cup you never saw before.

“What’s that?” You asked as you leaned back, taking the sun in. “Iced coffee." She answered, her words slurred the tiniest bit. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“You okay, Cici?” Amelie asked as he placed her hand on the girl's shoulder who just nodded with a content grin on her lips.

She seemed… drunk?

“What’s up with her?” Philippa whispered as she looked at you, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where’d you get that, Cici?” You tried but she kept drinking.

“She went to the toilet a few minutes ago and came back with the drink in hand. I figured she got it from the kitchens or something.” Amelia said, face worried.

Without much thinking you took the drink from Cecily and looked her straight in the eyes. “Who gave this to you?” She frowned but needed a moment to form the words in her mouth.

“Pot..Potter.”

She stammered and hot rage burned through your body. You never cared much about their pranks but to target a kind, loving girl who minded her business better than anybody else was infuriating.

You threw the cup to the ground and lifted yourself off the ground. “Get her some water, I’ll take care of this.” 

Amelia nodded and rummaged through her bag for a bottle. Philippa caressed Cecily’s hair and gave you a tight nod. You walked as fast as you could manage, hands cold and features angry.

Students stepped out of your way, eyes wide as they watched you march through the corridors. You caught sight of some Griffyindors, Lily to be accurate. They were sitting on a bench, giggling with each other.

“Where are they?” You spoke, interrupting their conversation. Mckinnon turned around, eyes squinted at you, Lily watched you with wide eyes.

“Who?” She tried but you crossed your arms with a roll of your eyes.

“Those idiots you hang around with, Potter and the others.” Alice winced and threw her gaze to the stone ground.

“What did they do?” Lily asked again as she raised to her feet.

“They fucked with one of my friends and I’m not too happy about that.” Marlene’s face softened, her mouth opening to speak. “Who-”Cecily.” Lily threw a hand over her mouth with a gasp.

“But, she’s so sweet.” You nodded, jaw tightening.

“Yeah, well. Sweet Cecily is now sitting in the yard, drugged out of her mind because Potter decided it would be funny.” Alice frowned and got to her feet as well.

“That’s too far.” She said and you nodded. “So, tell me where they’re hiding.” Lily sighed and nodded.

“They’re in our common room, password’s Dilligrout.” You nodded and gave her a sad smile.

“Thank you, Lily.” She turned to you again and gave you one as well. “They went too far this time, to drug Cecily. You better teach them a lesson.” You nodded and turned to walk away.

“Let me know how she is, when you see her.” You looked at her, not sure what to answer. With a nod you said. “I will.”

Outside the Griffyindor dorm you threw the password at the picture and it opened, whispering things like snake in the common room, how odd.

The room was dimly lit, quiet but faint voices could be heard. With slow steps you emerged into the warm place. Some first years almost shrieked at the sight of you but you only gave them a nod towards the stairs. Without much thinking, they fled the scene.

The morons were splayed out on the chairs and couch, laughing to each other. They haven’t noticed you yet. So you thought to change that and with fast steps you made your way to the empty chair before the fire. The voices stilled, silence embracing you.

“Y/N.” Sirius, the pureblood run away whispered. You didn’t answer but instead plucked a cigarette from your pack and lit it quickly. Dramatic, but who cares.

“I always knew that you lot had a knack for stupid pranks, I mean who doesn’t know.” You paused to take a drag. Potter sat himself up, Peter hadn’t moved since he watched you appear, face contorted in fear.

“But to drug someone in broad daylight, that's another level of idiotic.” James seemed to catch on and fumbled with his hands.

“What is it to you, who we prank?” You barked a laugh as you leaned forward. Remus couldn’t look you in the eyes, Sirius stared at you, not moving a limb.

“You don’t even care who you prank, now?” James sighed and crossed his legs, his arms crossed. 

“Let me enlighten you, Potter. Cecily Santoro, who you pranked is a very kind soul, one of my best friends, limbing behind in herbology, deathly afraid of frogs and loves coffee with all of her heart. But you don’t care about any of that because she’s a snake, a vicious horrible Slytherin. So when you pushed that cup in her hand this afternoon, she couldn’t say no. 

She loves coffee too much to think twice about taking anything from a Marauder. She probably thanked you with a smile on her face and you had a good laugh, right?

Well, she’s drugged out of her mind, she’ll fail her herbology exam and cry a good week about it. But you wouldn’t care about that, because she’s just another Slytherin, a too good enough reason to pass up on pranking her.”

He didn’t answer, Remus sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. You blew some smoke and shook your head.

“I hope you lot are proud of yourselves. You’re not an inch better than Malfoy or Nott.” Sirius stood and pushed his hands through his hair.

“I’m sorry.” James whispered.

You chuckled and threw the done fag into the fire which hissed upon the impact. “I’m not the one you should apologize to.” Sirius took a step towards you, face in a sorry twist.

“We fucked up big time then?.” He said. His eyes dared you, to argue with him. To fuel what he felt in his core.

James hissed at Sirius. “What the fuck are you doing?” He now stood in front of you.

“What do you want then?” His hands crossed he looked at you, eyes devouring your frame. Remus stood and put a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. He swatted it away and proceeded to look at you.

“Apologize.” He nodded.

“You are all to apologize to Cecily or I’ll bring this matter to the headmaster.” James sighed and narrowed his eyes at you.

“So you’ll play your cards?” You had to chuckle. You pushed Sirius down onto the couch, faces mere inches apart. Sirius licked his lips, eyes swaying from your eyes to your lips.

“If I were to play my cards, you’d be expelled and not allowed to step even a toe back on school grounds, you daft idiot.” You gave him a small smile before you continued.

“Don’t think i don’t know the ridiculous rumors you guys spread about me but just to assure you, I might fulfill them soon if you anger me any more.” You patted his cheek and turned to leave. 

You turned around once more to face Sirius who watched you, his eyes bored into your face, he licked his lips as he watched you leave. Your eyebrows furrowed and you shook your head. 

Cecily was back to normal, Amelia and Philippa had taken her to the infirmary last night. Madam Pomfrey had complained on end but let her sober up nonetheless.

“I’m fine, really.” Cici threw Philippa a small smile and tried to snatch her bag from the taller girl. “Nuh uh.” She slapped her hand away and continued walking.

Just as you turned the corner four figures sprung to their feet. The Griffyindor boys walked up to you and obviously struggled to deliver the promised apology. You had to suppress a laugh at the sight of the four.

“What do you want?” Philippa snapped at them.

“We, umh, wanted to apologize for yesterday.” James begann.

“What we did was out of line.” Remus carried on.

“We regret it.” Peter almost whispered.

“After your dear Y/N gave us a good talking to, we apologize for what we did.” Sirius finished off. Cecily turned to you with a confused expression on her face.

You just shrugged and gave her a small smile. The girls didn’t answer but started walking.

You stayed behind and pushed a cigarette between your lips. Sirius was quick to raise his lighter to your lips.

“That was Oscar worthy.” You chuckled. James frowned and kicked with his feet before himself.

“Are we good now?” Remus tried but you huffed in amusement.

“Sure sure.” You puffed some smoke and took the cigarette to push it between Sirius’ lips. He stared down at you with darkened eyes.

“For the nerves.” You smiled.

He took a drag and blew the smoke above your head.

“You’re quite feisty.” You chuckled and patted his shoulder.

“First time for you?” He chuckled and took another drag. You took a step to leave them behind but Sirius was quick to hold onto your arm.

“Hogsmeade next friday?” He spoke, cigarette still hanging between his lips, some strands from his bun fell over his face and you would have to lie that you didn’t think he was attractive.

“Are you asking me out right now?” You asked with a grin on your face.

A grin formed on his face as he inspected your face.

“Will you?” You wringed your arm from his grip. You took a step towards him and took the cigarette from his mouth, took a drag and blew the smoke towards him.

“In your dreams, Black.”

He barked a laugh and watched you leave with the cigarette you had shared. Fuck, was he smitten.