#I think this is going to get me in trouble

[artemisiasmuse]

rafe cameron x sweet virgin!reader

she told you she celibate but she told me I can nail her shit

cw: mdni 18+, virgin!reader but has some other experience, lowkey a freak tho, toxic rafe, corruption kink : >, size kink, first times, rafe goes a lil crazy, sweetie pie reader x insane yandere bf rafe is lowkey my favorite trope

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves <3 i didn’t read this over and i’m so sorry if there’s hella mistakes i will fix it later! this may or not be self-insert yes even that part

the trouble all began with sarah cameron and her big mouth. well really both of you were to blame, but you’d think she would be quieter when her older brother was lurking around. you were older than her by a few years, closer to his age than hers, not that it mattered though, rafe treated you like you were practically wheezie’s age. you didn’t let it sting you any more you had long gotten over trying to be seen as a woman in rafe cameron’s eyes. or maybe you just stopped watching him, he’s always noticed you but you felt out reach, until now. when he overhears his sister’s words he almost breaks the glass of water he’s holding.

“a virgin at 19 looking like you do is insane” sarah looked you up and down as you tried on the dress you’d bought together at the mall. you got shy at her words, you knew she wasn’t judging you but instead genuinely in disbelief that men weren’t throwing themselves at you. you had long mastered the art of looking unapproachable and uninterested after too many bad experiences.

“stoppp is it so hard to believe, you know how bad it’s been for me?” he really hopes no one sees him leaning against the wall next to his sister’s door, he’d look like such a weirdo. wheezie would never let him live this down, she’d barely held back on letting his little crush slip before. if sarah ever found out he’d be in another hell.

“fuck you’re right, if they can’t make you come what’s the point?” rafe winced at his sister’s words, willing away the temptation to gag. he was trying to focus on the fact that no guy had made you come before instead.

“you’re awful, but i’m done with men for a long time. im gonna focus on college and not waste time on them.” he relished in the twisted feeling that no one could touch you, even if the losers before had a chance they clearly couldn’t cut it.

“righttt being in a dorm filled with horny guys is gonna make that easier.” sarah deadpanned and you shoved her, seeing her point. you hadn’t thought about it like that.

“okay leave me alone i’ve been successful so far”

“oh my god speak of the devil, john b’s calling me over, can you cover for me? i’ll be back in like two hours max, promise.” you were a little disappointed she was leaving you but you knew how difficult it was for her to see him without someone covering for her. you nodded and pulled out your phone.

“fine but i’m ordering pizza,” rafe didn’t know if he should be terrified or elated that you two would be home alone for two hours. why did it have to be today that the rest of his family fucked off? was this divine intervention?

“save me a slice!” rafe could hear his sister rustling around, getting ready to go, so he did the same.

“you’re gonna be too busy eating di-“ rafe promptly ran off at that. he’d heard enough, his imagination would run wild with this new information.

it was half an hour later when, like clockwork, rafe made sure to be near the front door for the pizza delivery. he paid and tipped the guy, while you were making your way down at the sound of the doorbell. he hurries back upstairs, nearly running into you on the stairs. your eyes trace his pretty features and then land on the box in his hands, shock and horror cascading your face. rafe can’t believe that you look so good even now, you’re wearing a crop top with seemingly no bra underneath and high waisted sweatpants. to him you look like a model.

“hey! that’s my pizza” rafe laughs and continues up the stairs, you turn on your heel and follow him up. you’re kinda hangry and your pizza being held hostage is not helping your mood.

“i just paid for it so i don’t think so.” you both reach the top of the stairs but rafe isn’t stopping, he’s going to his room instead. this won’t do, he’ll lock the door and slam it in your face, you quickly move to stand in front of him blocking the path to his doorway. rafe thinks it’s cute that you think that would stop him, he feels a bit stir crazy over how small you look gazing up at him

“i’ll pay you back!” your hands shoot up against the doorframe, blocking entry even further. he wants to tease you a bit more but the idea of sharing a pizza in his room is way more tempting.

“nah it’s fine just let me have some.” you release your blockade and let him move past you, still with his-your pizza in his hold, following him mindlessly. if you were less hungry you would’ve realized eating pizza with your longtime crush and best friend’s brother in his room sitting on his bed was in fact not a great idea. but that fleeting concern is out the window when he opens the box and you climb onto his bed like it’s second nature. rafe does his best to stay concentrated on the present, it’s difficult when your shirt rides up and a sliver of your stomach is displayed, it looks so soft and untouched and he really isn’t hungry for pizza, he never was.

“i was gonna offer anyways for the record.” you say it while picking up a slice and rafe mirrors your action, laughing at your tone.

“yeah sure you were princess,” you ignore the way his voice sounds, the way he says your name, the way his room smells like him and it’s making your head spin.

rafe watches you eat transfixed when you lick the tips of your fingers, he can’t believe that he’s struggling to control himself over pizza but your words are ringing in his head.

“rafe do you have any napkins?” you hold up your greasy fingers and he nods his head dazedly, getting up to grab some for you and taking the pizza box off his bed with him. you move to get off then, looking around his room, you knew he wouldn’t appreciate if you snooped through his things so you just look at the pictures on the wall, the books he has. rafe finds you standing near his desk when he comes back, wordlessly handing you the napkins.

“i always forget you have a motorcycle.” your head motions towards the helmet resting on the surface of his desk.

“i don’t use it as much now.” he leaned back against the footboard of his bed, arms crossed against his chest as he watched you look at his stuff. he couldn’t figure out why you were still in his room, were you that curious?

“can i ride it? i’ve always wanted to try.” yeah rafe might just pass out now. you don’t even know what you’re doing to him, head cocked to the side looking at him so innocently he can barely hold back much longer.

“sure but i gotta teach you the basics so you don’t crash.” rafe is proud of himself for even stringing a sentence together in response. you notice a slight flush to his cheeks and ears.

“okay that’s fair.” you turn towards him, mirroring his form and leaning back against his desk. there’s a few feet between you but rafe thinks it would be so easy to lift you onto the mahogany and kiss you until you can’t breathe. his shorts feel so restrictive and he’s grateful he’s wearing black. he can’t hold back any longer, he has to know.

"is it true?" the words come out rushed, unsure of if they should even be said in the first place. but rafe’s not a quitter and he doesn’t shy away from anything really, even if the past few hours feel like a dream he would have in middle school.

"is what true?" your head does that thing again like a puppy and he nearly keels over, you’re too adorable for your own good. his gaze flits away for a second, he has to commit. your trusting expression and your airy tone make it all the more hard.

"no guy's made you come before?" you blink in shock twice before covering your face with your hands. this must be the most embarrassing moment of your life.

"ugh you heard that?"

"yeah you guys aren't exactly quiet" you might have to kill sarah cameron in her sleep, if she even comes back that is. you don’t know why you answer him, you could have just ran away but the magnetic pull of rafe cameron coaxes you to answer.

"yeah it's true" you sound defeated and rafe has to hold back a snicker, he watches you peer through your fingers at him, watching his expression.

"well i can rectify that..you know for the sake of mankind and all" there’s a smirk on his lips as he says the words that will haunt you forever. you’re sure he’s just messing with you and you huff a breath of disbelief. did he know about your little crush? you’d been hiding it so well for the past few years!

"don't tease me, rafe" you step away from his desk, moving to leave his room. even if it was just the two of you in the house you’d much rather sit in sarah’s room or watch the tv than be ridiculed.

"i'm not, it'd be a shame if a pretty girl like you gave up on men, especially for me." it’s almost as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water on your head when rafe cameron speaks. pretty girl the first time he’s called you anything that might suggest you’re not just his sister’s friend. the world spins on its axis and you try to grasp onto his words, try to understand that he might be genuine but you can’t. there’s still that voice of doubt telling you he’s just messing with you. rafe watches your expression go from shock to disappointment, you don’t believe him. he supposes it’s not that believable when he’s been purposefully avoiding you for a while. you must think he’s just messing with you, but he’s dead serious. he’ll just have to prove it.

“whatever rafe i don’t have time for your games.” you mumble it and leave his room, slamming the door a bit harder than you intended. the next few hours are torture. rafe cameron planted an insidious weed in your mind and it’s growing exponentially.

of course it’s not the first time you’ve imagined it, you’d often thought about what his long thick fingers would feel like. or how his biceps would feel under your hands if you held onto them for support. you’d fantasized about every part of him, even the tip of his nose. so the idea that it might just be within your reach had you spiraling. you took a cold shower, not that it helped, your underwear was still soaked after. no guy you’d been with had made you so wet, let alone before even touching you. it was as if the universe was testing you. a sick thrum in your body had found its way into your bones, vibrating with need and you paced in your best friend’s room thinking over all the consequences.

when you’d reached the conclusion that even if he was sincere it was still a bad idea, your phone pinged. a text from sarah that read: “i’m gonna be staying the night here, if you’re already asleep i’ll see you in the morning 🤍” with all your internal turmoil you hadn’t realized it was past the two hours she’d said. she would be out all night. you and rafe were home alone, all night. you swallowed down the lump in your throat, your heart pounding your chest. your feet were moving faster than your head, the pitter patter of your footsteps almost as fast as your heartbeat, and before you knew it you were in front of his door. you hesitated for a second breathing in deep once before knocking, the light was still on so you knew he was awake.

“yeah?” rafe did his best to hide the satisfaction he felt seeing you twitchy and shy in front of his door. you swallowed down again, looking up at him with as much confidence as you could. there was a few seconds of silence, he gave you the time you needed, looking down at you with bright inviting eyes.

“is your offer still on the table?” his face split into a grin, moving aside to let you in like you’d done before and with no hesitation you pushed past him. even the small graze of your shoulder against him set his skin ablaze. he was going to lose his mind.

“‘doesn’t really have an expiration date.” your mind was blanking at his every advance, you tried not to think about his words, you couldn’t afford to fall deeper for him.

“just don’t like tell anyone about this?” you murmured, watching him close the door behind you two and getting a bit nervous. if sarah found out you’d be in for hell. losing your virginity to your best friend’s brother wasn’t exactly a great conversation to have.

“i’m not topper don’t worry.” you believed him, rafe despite his other faults, was always respectful.

“can i kiss you?” you nodded fervently, rafe held back a laugh at your enthusiasm. he walked up to you slowly as if giving you the chance to run and slid his hands from his hips to the curve of your waist. you stood on your tiptoes, your arms going around his neck and rafe couldn’t believe this was real. maybe if he pretended it was a dream he wouldn’t be so nervous. he’d have to do just that. one of his hands cupped your face, thumb stroking along your cheekbone and your eyelashes fluttered closed at the touch. he pressed a tentative kiss to your lips.

his lips felt soft and you breathed out in relief after, as if some sort of spell was lifted. rafe kissed you again, this time letting himself breathe you in. you felt so small and delicate in his hold, he wanted to take his time with you. you had other ideas. kissing rafe cameron felt even better than you’d imagined, when he pulled back you surged forward this time, biting his lower lip making him groan into your mouth. another chill of desire wracked your body at the sound and you tested the waters by licking the seem of his lips. rafe pulled you even closer and bent down to kiss you deeper. his mouth opened and his tongue met yours. you tasted so good to him he couldn’t stop himself from sucking on your tongue slightly, making you whine in his hold. the sound flipped a switch in his mind, he wanted more of the sound, he needed to hear you say his name in that airy desperate sound again. a string of saliva connected your lips and snapped off in the middle, your breathing was heavy and his was too. you caught your breath all the while looking up at him, he held your gaze. the furrow of your brows grew deeper the longer you looked.

“we don’t have to do anything else.” him asking for consent again drew in another crushing wave of arousal, you were a lost cause. okay maybe your standards were in hell. even his cologne was better than any other guy, something woodsy and heavy, mature, not like the shitty ones you’d had to smell before.

“no-no i want to,” he’d have to ask you later why you looked so mad after kissing him, right now he had too much else to do. you could only watch as he lifted you by the grip on your waist, your legs going around his hips in fear of falling. he’d done it so casually you couldn’t process it in time. rafe set you down gently on his mattress, his weight pressed into you and your legs tightened around him. he kissed you again, already missing the taste of your lips, and leaned back. you realized what he was about to do as he sat back on his knees.

“no i-can you just come up here?” you felt far too shy for him to eat you out and although rafe respected your wishes he was a bit disappointed. he’d just have to make sure there was a next time. there were other ways to taste you anyways. he followed your lead, leaning back over you and kissing you again, tongue and teeth clashing together in need. one of his hands moved from your waist up and under the hem of your shirt, traveling up slowly until he reached the fat of your breast. the feeling of his fingers on your nipple jolted your body. usually you didn’t get anything out of a guy touching your boobs but him you were arching into his touch, huffing into his mouth. rafe loved how sensitive you were, reacting to every touch of his. he massaged the tit in his hand, reveling in how you squirmed underneath him. if you kept moving you’d feel how painfully hard he was in his shorts.

after giving up on kissing you he peeled off your crop top, trailing kisses down your neck. he bit at the skin and sucked, surely littering your neck with hickies. you smelled so sweet to him and he couldn’t get enough, biting hard in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. you squeaked at the feeling, shocked at how pleasure blurred the lines of the pain you should be feeling. being marked by rafe was transcendental.

“look at you, so fucking pretty.” you met his gaze, his eyes raking down your chest and back to your face. the compliment made your head even cloudier, you’d let him do anything he wanted already, and it didn’t even scare you. his mouth trailed lower, biting at the tops of your breasts before latching onto your nipple and sucking, biting and laving over the sensitive nub with his tongue. you writhed under him, desperate for some friction between your legs. you huffed out a breath in frustration. he took his time bruising your chest with his marks. everyone should know who you belonged to. he leaned back to admire his work, his eyes finally meeting yours and seeing your waterline filled with unshed tears. god he was being so cruel, you just wanted to come and here he was doing as he pleased.

“rafe can i have your fingers please?” he was about to take pity on you anyway but the desperate sound of you begging was too delicious to give up. he looped his fingers through yours, hands intertwined against the silk sheets next to your shoulder.

“fuuckkk when you ask like that how can i say no?” his eyes nearly rolled back in his head from your voice, he might just come from it alone. “how d’ya want them?” he knew, of course he knew, he just wanted to hear you say it. your lips were swollen from his kisses and you still managed to look so innocent under him, he wanted to mark every inch of your body so no one could touch you again.

“you know!” you huffed out, a pout on your lips that he kissed away, you still looked at him with frustration. your underwear was practically sticking to you now, you felt so warm and uncomfortable between your legs, desperate for friction. you’d never felt like this before, completely wrecked with need, unable to think about anything besides addressing your desire.

“spell it out for me, i can’t think clearly right now.” he kissed under your ear coaxing you into submission, a purr curled through you at the feeling. his lips were featherlight against you, soft and adoring and you couldn’t remember why you were holding back.

“‘wan you to fuck me with them.” it was a small mumble, slipping past your lips but rafe caught it nevertheless. his free hand hooked into your pants and pulled them down, you kicked them off and let him settle back between your legs. at least being out of your pants gave your legs some reprieve but the cool air only illuminated how drenched your underwear was. rafe’s large hand skimmed past your breasts to your stomach and rested against your waistband. he looked to you for admission and you nodded your head. instead of dipping underneath the band he trailed downwards, over the flimsy material. the ghost of his touch near your clit had you jerking under him, your hands flying to his shoulders. two large fingers pressed against the fabric, right above your opening, his fingers felt moist and he clicked his tongue at the feeling.

“baby you soaked through your panties, whose got you so worked up?” you whined, a pretty throaty sound that you’d been holding in and he vowed to pull more from you. his fingers were skimming along your opening, teasing the fabric and not quite touching you. your legs wanted to close on his hand but your hips moved closer, trying to make him touch you.

“you!” you screamed out, eyes squeezed shut as he removed his hand completely. you’d start leaking through them if he didn’t do something soon.

“that’s right me, not those fucking losers, just me.” his free hand, closed around your chin making you open your eyes and meet his. he looked crazed, pupils blown and overshadowing the blue with hooded eyes and a satisfied grin curling his lips. when you met his gaze he finally dipped his fingers beneath the band and pressed his thumb against your clit. he found it with such ease your eyes rolled back into your skull, gasping at the feeling of finally being touched. “i got you baby,” your legs spread wider for him, pulling him into you as his fingers slid through your drooling folds all the while his thumb ground against you. his fingers were so much larger than yours you could feel him everywhere. he prodded your hole with his index finger, grunting at how tight you were. streams of arousal kept pouring out of you, you needed him to do something. you squirmed under him again and rafe acquiesced, shoving his finger in. you were so tight and warm around him, slippery and soft walls hugged him as he stretched you out with one finger alone. “f-fucking tight,” he was gonna start soiling his shorts from the way you felt around his finger alone. he fucked you slow and deep, feeling along your insides for your sensitivity. he knew as soon as he found it because you screamed his name, hands clutching his arms tightly.

“feels weird,” he let you get used to the feeling, his thumb grinding against your clit. you were already feeling close and he’d barely started.

“poor pussy probably never felt this good huh?” you whimpered at his words, he was being so filthy and usually it turned you off. nothing about rafe could do that at this point. you shook your head, affirming his suspicions and his middle finger circled your opening. he was gentler this time, moving his fingers in inch by inch until you stopped clamping down. the pressure of him stretching you wasn’t unbearable but you didn’t know how you’d ever take more than his fingers at this rate. he accurately hammered against that spot, out for blood, while his thumb circled your clit. you were dripping onto his hand, coating him with your juices and the squelch of his fingers fucking into you filled the room. the sounds were so obscene you tried blocking them out with your pathetic little whines but rafe was determined to hear your soppy cunt crying for him. it wasn’t long before you felt the encroaching of your release and he knew it he could feel it in the way you clenched around him and whined when his fingers pulled out completely. one more carress of the sensitive gummy spot inside you had you seeing white. your vision blurred as you shook in your release, holding his wrist so he’d stop his motions, shivers wracked your body as you came the hardest you ever had. your walls fluttered around him, more of your release dripping down your cunt and soaking the sheets below. he was sick enough to leave them like that for the night, you smelled so sweet and he bet you tasted even better.

his fingers dipped out of your underwear and your eyes opened to watch him, probably a mistake on your part because just the vision of rafe cameron licking his fingers clean and groaning at the taste made you ready to go again. his eyes rolled back in his head at the taste, his eyes ground shut at the sugary flavor coating his tongue and teeth. he really hoped you’d let him have more later because now that he’d had a taste he wanted the full meal. you shivered at the way he reacted, your whole body on high alert from your orgasm, but even as sensitive as you were you couldn’t help but be greedy.

“rafe, can we go further?” his heart might just give out, you look nervous even now after he’s already addicted. he moves back slightly, pulling his shirt over his head and your eyes are drawn to his chest.

“never thought you’d ask.” you’re not even trying to hide how you ogle him, seeing him at the beach is one thing but in front of you, when you can touch him is another. rafe watches you reach a hand out, slightly out of range and moves closer to you, letting you touch him. your smalls hands traverse the expanse of his shoulders, his pecs, and trace the outline of his abs. when they reach the tuft of hair above his waistband, rafe has to stop you. the tiny fleeting touches make him twitch in his pants. he moves your hand to rest against his shoulder, pulling your underwear all the way off and looking down at how he completely drowns your body out.

“fuckkk can’t believe im the lucky one who gets to break this little pussy in,” he kisses along your neck, hands squeezing your waist and marveling at how diminutive you feel. he can’t wait to be inside you, he wonders if you’ll even be able to take him.

“s-so dirty” his words are heating up your entire body and you’d feel embarrassed if you weren’t arching into him. rafe moves to pull down his shorts, waiting a beat before he does.

“you sure you want this?” while taking your virginity was something he could only dream about before he needed to be sure.

“yes i want it to be you, i trust you.” you say it as normally as you can.

“we can stop whenever you want, like i said ‘offer’s not gonna expire.” you hope you can take it up even after this, maybe not even once or twice. if he could make you feel like this why would you need anyone else? then he pulls his shorts off and you start to regret your decision.

“oh-is th-that gonna fit?” his cock sprung out and slapped against his stomach, long and thick and way too big for you. you could barely take his fingers this would never fit. it looked so angry white precum dribbling down stark against the flushed pink curling along the veins and curving with him to the right. you wouldn’t survive this.

“you’ll do your best right?” you nod enthusiastically, you wanted to take as much as you could. “good girl.” oh, you’d have to explore that later. you nearly moaned at him calling you that. rafe caught it though, he knew your reactions well by now. he lined it up over your stomach, seeing how far it would go and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. your belly button was completely covered, not that it mattered he was halfway up your torso. rafe’s grip on your waist tightened, he’d ruin you for anyone else, stretch you out and mold you just for him. no one would feel as good as him and he nearly drooled at the sight.

despite how feral he felt, he made sure you were still wet enough for him to slip in, you were. his tip pressed against you, he let you drool onto him, juices swirling with his and making a sick plap plap plap sound as he tapped against you. he’s far wider than his fingers and you tried to relax. you motioned for him to come closer, his lips out of reach and you kissed him sweetly. when he could feel you relax he pushed in, instantly being shoved out. so tight he couldn’t even get the tip in. “fuuckkkk gonna have to marry you.” you don’t even process his words and he doesn’t really know he’s saying them out loud either. he tries again, pulling you slightly onto his length and you gasp at the stretch. you’re gripping him like a vice and it’s nearly uncomfortable but being inside you breaks something inside of him and he’s drooling into your mouth. you don’t even care you want more. “doin well angel-hah-taking me so well.”

the pain is an afterthought now, you want him to stretch you and fill you until you can’t breathe. you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything more in your life. so you do the unthinkable, you try moving down his length. rafe can’t be held responsible for his actions after that.

he gives into your silent plea, skewering you on his cock and pushing past your gooey rings of resistance until he’s halfway in. you held your breath the entire time as he curved into you, tip smearing precum along your walls as he molded you to him, his veins catching on your entrance and making you jolt at the feeling. you push at his chest, the pain making you scream his name as he lets you adjust. there’s tears trailing down your cheek that he licks away. he kisses you until the ache between your legs becomes distant, it’s salty and sloppy but it distracts you enough. rafe makes the mistake of looking down, sees the way you’re gaping for him and how it looks like he’s splitting you in half and he bottoms out. the snap of his hips against yours makes you moan, he’s filled you up now and you can feel him in your throat. you swear you feel him get bigger when you whine his name pathetically, his dick twitching inside you.

it’s too much and you try running from it, shoving up the length of the bed but rafe just pulls you back down. “t-too big hng can’t-“

“come on i thought you were-fuck-a big girl,” he groans into your ear, you shove against him once more and he slips out a few inches, just enough for you to relax. you can still feel him nestled against your cervix, he’s leaking into you and your thighs are coated in both of your arousal. you tap his shoulder for him to move again, pulling out until his tip is the only thing inside and then spearing all the way back in. the feeling makes you cross-eyed, his throbbing tip bumps along your sensitive spot until it nestles against you, as far high up as it can and you think you might be coming on every thrust because you’re so obscenely wet more slick just pours out of you every time. rafe knows it’s because there’s no space for anything but his cock and he can’t help but grin, watching your pussy engulf his length despite how small you are under him. every thrust sends your whole body upwards but his grip on you keeps you close, he’s almost fucking you back onto him.

“feels good hah,” you finally murmur into his neck, wrapping your legs around his hips so he can drill into you better. his thrusts are deep and slow, letting you get used to the feeling but you don’t think you like it like this. if he’s going to ruin you he might as well do it properly. “h-harder.” rafe moans your name at your request, his voice sounds so wrecked you clench down at the sound alone.

“turned this pussy into a slut, ‘couldn’t even take-hah-two fingers now look at you.” really he’s proud of you, proud that he made you like this. although he wants to tease you he can’t hold back much longer either and it’s your first time so he’s gonna be nice to you. rafe pulls out and slams back into you setting a faster rougher pace, your skin is slapping against each other and you think he might bruise your hips. your head is shoved up the length of his bed until it threatens to bump against the headboard, he puts his hand between you and the wood, his other hand holding onto the frame for support. your legs are being bent and pressed to the sides and the new angle makes him hit that spot with blaring accuracy. a sick ring of white forms at the base of his dick and his balls are slippery from your arousal. you still have a vice grip around him, something he won’t get used to but is definitely get addicted to. the room smells filthy and the sounds of you chanting his name combined with the squelch of your cunt is pornographic.

“gonna be a good girl and come around my cock?” your walls flutter at his words, like his permission has you ready to come. you come undone with one more thrust, your cunt is milking him as if coaxing him to come. “fuck fuck fuckkkk.” he pulls out just in time to come onto your stomach, shooting thick gooey ropes onto your soft skin. the white contrasts the blue and purple that is starting to bloom around your neck and tits.

you blearily watch it happen, disappointed he didn’t come inside, but warm and fuzzy from your release. there’s one thought nagging you though as you rest comfortably on his sticky soaked sheets. “it wasn’t a one time offer right?”

“no fucking way, i’m never letting you go.” rafe looks at you like you’re crazy, he’s ready to propose. there’s no way in hell he’s making this a one night stand. after all he’s broken you in, now it’s the fun part.

taglist: @ggraycelynn

[crushedsweets]

CREEPED VISUAL NOVEL Link, tutorial, extra art, Q&A, some chatter

The CREEPED Prologue is completely free and browser-ready. Gameplay is about 10 minutes. Please read the "tutorial" and notes before playing!

Follow Y/N and their dog, Max, through their grandparents' farm and a mysterious forest filled with...less than fortunate people!

PLAY HERE; works best on PC

This visual novel is powered by GOOGLE SLIDES! It has 0 programming and was created by one person in a little over a month, so please bear with any "bugs" and clunkiness!

TUTORIAL

>Click using mouse/trackpad >Go slowly to not break game >Do not use arrow or space keys

EXTRA NOTES:

>Works best on PC/Browser, I haven't tested the full game on mobile yet >In general, clicking the PNGs on the textbox (Apple, Teddy Bear, Hatchet, etc) will lead you to the right page >If you land on a page that tells you to "go back," that's when you should click the back-arrow key. If your cursor disappears, it doesn't register the click correctly >I recommend moving your cursor periodically to avoid it disappearing and sending you to the wrong page

EXTRA ART

some WIPS and the original sprite-style i was gonna choose LOOOOOOOL

Q&A

Q: Is this an x reader? A: This is a reader-insert, but it's not romantic and I try to keep it as neutral and unidentifiable as possible! Q: What's the plot? A: GENERALLY AND WITHOUT SPOILERS, your dog gets you into trouble and you're just looking to help him!

Q: Who is in the prologue? A: Tim, Brian, Toby, and Kate! More will be added in future chapters.

Q: When will future chapters be posted? A: Not sure! This took me about a month to do, and half was spent over winter break. I will try to get chapter 1 posted before summer, but I am a full-time student, employed, have extracurriculars, etc etc

ok thats all i only remember 4 questions feel free to ask more LMAO

CHATTER(because you know i can talk forever)

ok i just wanted to be able to talk about how the process was with this and how i feel about the results and whatnot...

ive been wanting to make a google slides visual novel since i was like 13 LOL it hit the point where i was repeatedly told i should just learn to code but i was like NOOOOO ITS GOTTA BE GOOGLE SLIDESSSS which is totally stupid but hey. i think that gives it some sort of simple charm that reminds me of being 16 and doing little projects in my room LOL i like working with the easiest tools . my bad

anyway. im just very happy LOL. it's not perfect but i feel like i came full circle in a sense?!?! i've been into creepypasta since i was 9 and it comforted me when things were really hard, and when i was 18 i was going through a really hard time and got back into creepypasta as a way to distract myself. i've always had a habit of throwing myself into fiction for escapism when things suuucked.

i'm 20 now but i've met SO many amazing people, had so many fun awesome exciting projects with friends, created tons of stuff im proud of, felt more motivated to create since i was like 13, have been inspired by so many amazing artists/authors on here, etc. just so so so lucky to find community in such a tight-knit cute fandom that thrives off of creativity and playing around! i hope i can keep the momentum and make a couple more chapters this year, but im kinda busy with school and work...LOL . i'm just excited to have this posted so i can have more discussion about it T_T

anyway thank you if you read this far and thank you if you played etc etc yaahhhhhh omg ok BYE THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING im just so grateful to be in this fandom

[luveline]

Missing hotchner reader❤️❤️

hotch and spencer have to work together to look after you when things get really hard. fem, 3.3k

cw cptsd episodes and descrips of abuse

Adoption isn’t as permanent as people might think —they can give you back anytime they want. So when the oldest Hotchner started hitting you, it wasn’t that different to a previous placement, nobody was watching over you, and you were so afraid of losing your new brother that you didn’t say a word. 

You knew, reasonably, that if Aaron was to find out about how his father (your father) had been treating you, he’d report it to your caseworker or the police or somebody and you would be removed from the Hotchner household. And Aaron was the first person you’d ever met to care about you, really care, maybe even love, so you hid it all away and you told him that things were fine. You do it for years.  

You move out, you go to college. Aaron moves you into a nice apartment a few streets away from his own, and for a while, life is good. You meet his coworker, Spencer, and you get along. Spencer takes you on dates to cinemas and patisseries and he buys you cuddly plushies with hearts sewn into their hands at Valentine’s. By all accounts, things should be good. 

You can’t breathe, is the problem. Somebody has their hand raised to hit you again and you can’t do anything about it, you just have to take it, because you’re useless, because you deserve it, because you’re a drain on everything and everyone and you aren’t worth the trouble, you deserve the hit. You’re so sorry.

“I know,” someone murmurs quietly, a sensation on your shoulder. You wait for it to close around the back of your neck. “I know. It’s alright.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, barely, a breath of sound. 

“You don’t have to be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

But you did, you did, he was in a bad mood to begin with and you hit his glass of scotch right off the table, smashed glass and wasted drink and a bad mood made worse. He should’ve hit you by now. He’s waiting for you to sit up. He doesn’t like to hit the back of your head, but he will if you cower long enough.

“Honey,” the voice says, right by your ear, “I’m not going to hit you, do you hear me? I am never, ever going to hit you.” 

“I’m really sorry.” 

“I don’t care that you knocked the glass over. I don’t care at all.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Can you look at me? I promise,” —he emphasises until his voice burns— “I am not going to hit you.” 

Aaron sounds upset enough to force your gaze. You look at him through your lashes, ready to shut your eyes if this is a trick, but he has his hands flat in front of you and he’s completely still. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, so unlike himself, “I wouldn’t hit you over a glass. I wouldn’t hit you if you did it on purpose. I wouldn’t hit you if you smashed every piece of glassware in this apartment for fun.” 

He’s hit you for less. 

“Sweetheart,” he says again, waiting for a reaction you can’t give, “do you want me to go away?” 

It’s a good question. Do you want him to leave? Immediately, everything inside of you says No. He’s gonna hit you just like the last time you smashed his drink, out of the blue, ‘cos didn’t mean to doesn’t matter. But you don’t want Aaron to go. He’s the only person who’s ever loved you properly. 

“It’s okay, just hit me,” you say, staring at him, pleading with him not to even as you ask for it, “it’s my fault.” 

“Not gonna hit you,” he says, reaching for you now, even when you flinch, he holds you by the arms and he stares at you hard. 

“It’s okay,” you say. 

“It’s not okay. It won’t fix anything.” 

“I deserve it.” 

“No, you don’t.” Aaron rubs your arms in tandem, shaking his head, a trace of panic in his eyes you’d missed until now. 

It’s Aaron. Aaron’s never hit you. 

“You never deserve to have someone put their hands on you,” he says, practically murmurs, “I’m sorry I let that happen.”

“I lied to you.” 

“I know. I know you did, honey.” He shakes his head gently. “It’s not your fault.” 

“I hit the glass over,” you say, And he hit me so hard I couldn’t hear right for hours. You still remember the way it shocked you, because you’d started to expect it but you were still surprised he’d bother with such a hard hit, that he could get that angry about it.

“I thought it was just me,” he murmurs, sorry, clutching at you like he needs you to listen. “I never should’ve left you in that house, but I thought it was just me. It was only ever… me.” 

You already know —you’ve had this conversation before. He’s apologised already. 

He cups your cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re not angry with me?” 

“No. I’m never angry with you.” 

You come to yourself in fits. You’re kneeling on the floor not far from the table, the mess of glass, half still intact and cupping a few sips of scotch. Aaron’s kneeling right next to you, still in his suit, hasn’t been home long, you were waiting for him. You used your key because you didn’t want to be home alone. Today’s been a bad day. You’ve felt stringy and strange for hours and you knew seeing Aaron would set it right. That Aaron would make you feel better through force of will. 

And then you’d knocked his drink off the table and both of you had startled, and he’d said, “Wait, don’t, you’ll hurt yourself,” but all your brain heard was You. 

You. What could be said to mean more than that? 

“You’re not gonna hit me,” you whisper. 

“Never.” 

“Can you help me up?” you ask, half apart from yourself. Your head is back, but your legs won’t cooperate. 

“Where do you want to go? The kitchen?” he asks, leaning so you can wrap your arms behind his head. He lifts you up with some effort on his part, adjusting you, and leading you together to the kitchen to sit you at the island bar. “Sit tight. I’ll clean the glass, okay? It won’t take long.” 

You don’t want him to go, but you don’t wanna say no. 

Time away from him is good, in a way. It makes you remember who you actually are outside of the bad memory. It hammers home that this is Aaron’s apartment, your big brother, your number one supporter. There’s a picture of you and Jack right there on the fridge stuck by an alphabet magnet. Aaron’s never hit you before and it’s not going to change now, because he is nothing like his dad. 

He’s never really seen you act like this, though, and you aren’t excited for what he has to say next. He has a penchant for seeing you at your worst and building you back up again. It shouldn’t be his problem, but it is. 

He brushes the glass into a dustpan and unloads it into a bag, which he trashes. You watch him wet a paper towel and wipe it across the floor for the shavings. 

When he’s drying his hands on a towel, you summon the courage to apologise. “Aaron, I’m… I’m sorry. Sorry.” 

He closes his eyes. He doesn’t look much like the other Hotchner’s. He’s dark-haired like his mother, and he smiles with all kindness. You never saw anything so soft at home, not unless he was there to visit. It’s a wonder he ever bothered getting to know you, already living his life very much outside of the household, and shouldn’t he have moved on? If it were you, if there were another kid in the house right now, could you go back? Knowing how you were treated? 

“I love you,” he says. “You know that?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you think you could understand why I don’t want you to say sorry, or be sorry, because of that?” 

You smile weakly. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah? Because if Jack were in here today, and he had hit that drink over, you couldn’t have hit him. Could you?” 

“Of course not.” 

He’s mildly guilty for the example, you can tell, but it cements the sentiment in your mind and he can see that. “When you love someone, you don’t hit them. We just can’t do it.” 

“I just… just– you– I got all mixed up in my head.” 

“I know.” 

“Thought you were him,” you say tightly, quietly. 

“I know. Is that the first time you’ve had something like that happen? Like you weren’t sure where you were?” 

Your face crumples of its own accord, heat clogging your nose and throat and lining the backs of your eyes. “No… but it hasn’t been that many times…”

“The bad panic attack at work a few weeks ago, was that like this?” 

“No, that was just that I couldn’t breathe right. I– I had one with Spencer.”

Aaron frowns, but he speaks kindly, “When was that?” 

“A couple of days ago…” You stare at your hands.

“We don’t have to talk about it. But I need to make sure you’re okay.” 

“He told me to tell you, but it– I thought he’d break up with me, after, but he hasn’t, so I’ve just been waiting.” 

“Honey, I don’t think this is the sort of thing that could make Spencer break up with you. He cares too much.” 

“You don’t understand, I– I begged him not to touch me, Aaron. I really scared him.” 

With Spencer, it was late. You asked him to stay the night on a limb, and you’d forgotten he was there sleeping beside you, met him in a dark hallway, where he asked what you were doing out of bed. It’s late. You shouldn’t be up. 

His hand had settled just behind your neck. He won’t touch you there anymore. 

“If there’s something you want to tell me–”

“I want it to go away,” you say. 

“It’s not going to be that easy.” He takes a big, deep breath. “You could’ve told me this was happening,” he promises. 

“I didn’t want you to know that I– lied so much. Sometimes I can’t believe I let him do it.” 

Your tone, quiet and calm and a juxtaposition to the ache in your chest, couldn’t hurt him worse. You're familiar with the pain on Aaron’s face, how it makes him do this sorry smile, how he tries hard not to give it away. “If anyone let him hurt you, it was me.” 

“What?” 

“I knew he was unkind to you. I knew he shouted. I didn’t try hard enough to get you away.” 

“Aaron–”

“If you’re going to blame someone, it has to be me.” 

It’s ridiculous. If you hadn’t had Aaron, you would’ve been completely miserable to the marrow of your bones. He’s the last person on earth you’d blame for the way you’re feeling now, so when a tear wells in your eyes, when it hits your cheek in a splash, you let him tut and wrap his arms behind you. 

“It’s my fault,” you insist, hiding your face in his shoulder. 

“No.” 

“It’s my fault, I hit the glass–”

“No, no, it’s not your fault.” 

“I’m really s–sorry.” 

“It’s gonna be okay, honey. Just breathe. Just take a deep breath for me. I promise you I’m not mad about the glass.” 

“Maybe you should be.” 

He holds your forehead to his chin, clutching you to him, reassuring and a little too tight. “I’m not mad at you.” 

You can’t make yourself believe him. 

—

Spencer isn’t expecting to get waylaid by Hotch at Rossi’s dinner party. He can’t think of what he did wrong. You’re happy with him, clingy lately, which he loves, and as smart and sweet as ever, and work is great. Spencer’s a good agent and a better profiler. 

Hotch looks so serious that he follows him in silence, squeezing his coke neck like a lifeline. 

“I want Y/N to be assessed for PTSD, and I need to know that you’re going to support her,” he says simply. 

Spencer searches the backyard for you. You’re laying down in the grass with Jack, Henry, and Penelope. It’s getting late, barely any sunshine left, but nobody’s wanted to ruin the fun and call it a night yet. You don’t fuss as Jack throws himself sideways across your chest. 

“Did something happen?” Spencer asks. 

“She had an… event. She told me about a similar incident with you the other night. That she panicked and got confused about who you were.” 

Spencer nods. “Yeah, I– yeah. I caught her by surprise.” 

“That’s the only time it’s happened?” 

“Yeah. She’s told me a little about it.” 

“About the episode?” 

“Everything. And it’s obvious?” He enthuses it with apology, worried he’ll offend Hotch if he says something too blatant, but desperate to be honest. “Most of the time she’s this– she’s amazing, she’s like this light, and then sometimes it’s like she thinks I don’t like her? Like I don’t want to be near her, or like she thinks I’m gonna hurt her.” 

Hotch lets his eyebrows rise a little. “Yeah.” 

“She cried so much that I didn’t know what to do.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about that part, she already told me you made her feel better,” Hotch says quietly. Neither of them mention what they know, how you’d begged Spencer to stay after the episode, how sorry you’d been, how desperate Spencer was to calm you down. “But if you can’t do it in the long run, you need to know now. I can’t start this with her and have you duck out halfway through. I know,” —Hotch gives him a fond smile, half-knocking the wind from him— “that you care about her, and I know it’s not my place to come to you on her behalf, but I’m going to do it anyhow, and you know why I am.” 

“What do you mean?” he says, though he knows. 

“I’m saying I think she’s going to get worse before she gets better. She’s not well right now.” 

“I know she isn’t.” 

“I trust you, Spencer. I care about you, too. But she’s going to be my priority, and if you can’t be there for her then it has to be done now... I’m worried she’s going to get really low.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says genuinely. Spencer’s not defensive, only urgent. “Hotch, I more than care about her.” 

Hotch nods. “Okay. Good, because I need your help. You have to vet these doctors for me, I have a preliminary list. I’ll send it to you.” 

“Wait, have you talked to her about this?” 

“I said we’d talk to a doctor. I promised I’d talk to you about it. She’s… I don’t know, she’s scared.” 

Spencer straightens up. You have nothing to be scared of with him, not his reaction, not his lack of support. He wishes Hotch had had more faith in him, but none of this is about him. Someone hurt you, and now you have to put yourself back together again. 

The kids have disappeared. Penelope’s climbing onto her feet and offering you a hand, but you stay laying down in the grass. 

“I really care about her,” Spencer says. 

Hotch clasps his shoulder. “Are you going, or am I?” 

“I’ll take this one, please.” 

“Sure.” 

Spencer trudges around the side of the yard, past the bench and the tables and the string lights on the patio to where you’re laying in the bluegrass, eyes nearly closed. “Is this seat taken?” he asks, nudging your hip with his shoe lightly. 

“No, sir.” 

Spencer sits down in the grass. He finds your wrist to hold. 

“You okay?” 

“Did Aaron talk to you about the doctor?” 

“Yeah, he did. You want to go?” 

“What do you think?” 

Spencer rubs your pulse. “I think it’s good. If you were having headaches, we’d go to the doctor.” 

“Headaches that make me not know who you are.” 

“Especially that kind.” 

You turn a bit and give him an amused smile. “Sorry I was too scared to say more about it.” 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Spencer brings a cautious hand to your cheek. He sees the flicker of hurt it brings —you don’t like that he’s careful how, but how can he not be, remembering the way he’d touched your neck and the wound it seemed to inflict in the dark— but he tries to caress it away. “I’m with you,” he says, “I care about you. I want to take care of you, as much or as little as you might need that from me.” 

Your eyes fall closed. “It might be nice.” 

“What would?” 

“To be taken care of by you.” 

“I’ll try my best.” 

You cover his hand with your own. JJ laughs across the yard, and Jack and Henry shout battle cries. Hotch says, “Jack! Not so rough, buddy!” and makes you laugh. 

“Did he intimidate you?” you ask. 

“No more than usual. He said I have to decide if I can do this with you.” 

You squirm and attempt to sit. If Spencer weren’t nervous about touching you, he’d force you back down. “He shouldn’t have.”

“No, he should. But I already decided.” Spencer finds your fingers, lacing them with his. “It wasn’t really a decision, actually. I want to do this with you, but only if that’s okay with you.” 

You nod slowly. “I already said it’d be nice if you took care of me,” you whisper, letting your face dip downward. 

He chances a kiss pressed to your temple. 

You laugh under your breath. “I know you didn’t sign up for this.” 

“Did you?” he asks, giving your back a rub like a wave. 

“It’s different. I knew what was happening to me.” 

“Angel, you didn’t have a choice,” he says, so quiet he’s surprised when you hear it. “I know you’re… What?” he asks, perturbed when you shake your head. 

“You and Aaron…” 

You never finish. Spencer can’t make you. He holds your shoulder until the tension under his hand unfurls, relaxing his touch when you decide to lay down in the grass again, quietly asking him to lay with you. 

“Be ready for Jack to use you like a trampoline,” you warn, taking his hand. 

He has a feeling Hotch will keep Jack away for a while. 

Spencer traces the back of your hand with his thumb, over and over. He’s sorry he didn’t know you five years ago, sorry you were alone, sorry someone put their hands on you. He’s sorry you learned to anticipate physical abuse in the wake of mistakes. He’s sorry he can’t take it away from you, ‘cos from the second you took his hand at that park a street from his apartment he’s been a goner, all you had to do was jump up on the lip of the fountain and trust him not to let you fall. He remembers how that felt, the zinging sparks travelling from the palm of your hand into his, the romanticism of two arms stretched apart and your slow circle. And when you fell in, you didn’t blame him, you just laughed and scrambled back out, squealing excitedly about your wet shoes. 

It’ll get better, he thinks. Even if it gets worse first. You’ll feel better soon. 

He turns his cheek into the grass and beckons you forward for a kunik kiss, nose pressed to yours, wanting to kiss you like he would if you were at home together, and knowing this is enough too. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“It’s getting cold.” 

Spencer agrees, but neither of you attempt to move. 

[cottoncandysecretlair]

Being the person that doesn't complain just isn't possible at a certain point. You'll to gracefully bow out of occasions you know you physically aren't up for, and as it happens over and over again, people think you're just flakey or rude or don't care about them. And telling them about your condition at this point doesn't help, it often hurts.

Or, alternatively, you push yourself to avoid being the rude guy, and end up needing help or burdening others because you pushed beyond what you could handle, which people easily misconstrue as you being a drama queen or similar.

If you go back and forth depending on where you are, now you're flakey, rude, unreliable AND you get to be annoying and dramatic too.

Telling people up front saves ME trouble tbh. I'm so tired of pretending I'm well when I'm not just so I don't have to spend all my days in utter isolation. And I'm gonna be isolated anyway because I'm sick, it's just whether I get a reprieve or not.

Argh

People wonder why disabled people "make their disability their whole personality" when we live in a world where disabled people have to constantly explain themselves so they aren't judged and attacked.

[sweetshuga]

「 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝟐 ✧ 𝑪.𝑺 」

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑺𝑴𝑼𝑻! ⬩ +𝟏𝟖 ⬩ Chris has an oral fixation ⬩ boobs sucking/fondling ⬩ pussy eating ⬩ munch!chris ⬩ pet names ⬩ overstimulation (f!) ⬩ praise kink + more.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟏.𝟗 𝒌

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: Happy Valentine’s babes!! Here’s a cute lil’ fic to celebrate the day of love<33

𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝑰𝒏 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒅: English is not my first language! «𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕»

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Your school had a secret admirer day on Valentine’s, and what you received was far from a love letter.

Chris hummed a soft tune under his breath as he walked to the back of the school, almost with a hop in his step.

You had asked to meet him there.

As Chris rounded the corner, he saw you standing there, his notebook in hand and a serious expression on your face. His smile faltered as a strange nervousness flooded his senses, but he tried not to show it as he approached you — although with a more tense smile on his face.

"Oh, you’re here." You said, uncharacteristically unenthusiastic as you shoved his notebook in his chest, making Chris blink at you, clutching the notebook against his chest with his lips parted slightly in surprise. "Open it won’t you?" You tutted, your expression unreadable.

Chris, although surprised, opened the notebook per your request, his brows furrowing immediately when he saw what was inside. Inside was the letter he had written; the explicit one of the two he gave you anonymously.

He looked up at you, now with clear nervousness on his face. "Look I-" "Did you write it?" You cut him off before he could make a dumb excuse, and your words made him freeze in place.

Chris stared at you for a bit before nodding slowly, knowing he couldn’t make up a lie since you seemed to know the truth already and would call him out on his bullshit immediately. "Fuck…" He cursed under his breath, gaze snapping down at the vulgar letter inside his notebook.

"I… I wrote it alright," he paused before continuing in a quieter tone, his eyes still stuck on the page, "I know I shouldn’t have- but I thought you wouldn’t know — I thought I could get away with it." He mumbled, unable to look at you due to the shame burning his face.

You sighed heavily, making his heart beat a tad bit faster as he didn’t know how to interpret it. He didn’t know if you were angry at him — he didn’t want to ruin whatever you two had and shared. "Why did you write it- I mean, I kinda have an idea but-but I don’t understand… Why me?" Your question nearly made him laugh.

Why you? Were you being serious?

You were the prettiest girl he had seen; the smartest; the funniest. All in all a perfect girl in his eyes. He wanted you. He wanted you bad, and the letters he had spent a whole day writing described his feelings perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said that his carefully written letters didn’t make your heart do back flips in your chest, but you also wasn’t sure if you’d be doing the right thing to say yes if he – ever – outwardly asked you out, hence the troubled expression slowly creeping on your face as you waited for him to answer your question.

Chris wasn’t stupid — he knew exactly what you were thinking about. He didn’t want you to doubt anything, and so, he decided to answer truthfully — confidently.

"Why you? Well, firstly, you’re really pretty- no scratch that, you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen, and you’re smart, you’re never afraid to speak your mind, you’re kind, you’re selfless — humble and-"

The more he spoke, the more your doubt faded.

A soft blush adorned your cheeks after his wholehearted confession, your heart beating miles per minute. Chris looked at you with a soft smile, the genuine kind that you’ve never seen on his face. You were used to his playful smirks or the sly grins, but never this… tender smile, and it made butterflies go crazy in your tummy.

"Well?" Chris questioned, desperation seeping into his tone now that he has laid his feelings bare. He felt naked, stripped down to nothing but the truth.

"Well-" You began, your words catching in your throat. "-I, I need time to think. This is too much to take in all at once and-and I need more time." You said, looking straight at him, your words slowly decreasing in both volume and fight the more you looked at him.

Chris nodded quickly, understanding how much this was to digest. "Yeah-yeah, of course, um, you can take all the time you need — I’ll wait for as long as you want." He stuttered out rapidly, fumbling over his words, and despite your inner turmoil, his nervousness amused you greatly.

You were unable to stop your lips from curling upwards with a small smile — which made him smile as well, his shoulders relaxing slightly as if he was relieved you were still smiling after all that has happened.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

It had already been three days since his confession and you’ve had plenty of time to think. It wasn’t like you actually needed time to think — you liked him too. Therefore, you came to the conclusion that you should probably reciprocate his feelings before he got tired of waiting.

You felt on edge as you waited at the back of the school, yet again. Your fingers tapped impatiently inside your hoodie pocket as you waited for Chris to arrive.

A few minutes passed by and there was still no sign of Chris. You were starting to get anxious. Why isn’t he arriving? Is he ghosting you? Standing up? Is your friendship over?

Just as your thoughts got more and more dramatic, Chris arrived, a small smile on his face as he walked over to you in long confident strides. He stopped right in front of you, leaving a comfortable space between the two of you, his hands in his pockets.

"What did you wanna talk about?" Chris asked, tilting his head slightly to the side, his eyes darting down to your lips before taking them back up your face and to your eyes. You felt your words die in your throat and everything you wanted to say felt like a jumbled mess of letters.

"Well, I-um, I wanted to talk about-" "My confession?" He continued for you, knowing exactly what you wanted to talk about, and you nodded before speaking again. "Yeah, that… and um, I’ve thought about it for a while now and I think I like you too- no, I mean I like you and not that I think I like you, I really do like you and-" You rambled, stumbling over your words.

"Hey-hey, I got you, relax." Chris chuckled, his hands slipping out of his pockets to reach towards your arms before sliding them down and gently holding your hands in his, interlacing your fingers together. "You like me, huh?" His eyes searched yours, wanting assurance.

"Yeah, I like you — a lot." You confirmed, louder this time. Chris’ smile widened, a warm feeling spreading through his chest at your confession. "Fuck, you don’t know how long I waited to hear that." He pulled you into a tight hug, mumbling a soft ‘I love you’.

"I love you too, Chris." You murmured, melting into his hug as your arms wrapped around his torso. Your words made him smile widely against your hair, his face burying itself in your neck as he breathed in your scent.

𓆩♡𓆪

Things escalated rather quickly.

One moment you were walking home with him all giggly and the next he was hovering over you on your bed, kissing down your half-naked body.

Chris’ hands deftly worked to unclasp your bra, taking it off in one swift motion before leaning down to hover right above the swell of your breast. "Can I?" He asked, wanting you to feel comfortable with everything, ignoring the ache in his pants.

You nodded your head, mumbling a quiet "go ahead" and Chris closed the distance between your hardened nipple and his lips, pressing a soft kiss on it before his tongue flicked out to swirl around the sensitive nub, making your back arch slightly — pushing your chest more into his face.

Spurred on by your soft noises and silent plea for more, he wrapped his lips around your nipple and suckled gently on it, his hand kneading your other breast and tweaking your nipple between his fingers.

Chris released your nipple with a soft pop and gave the other one the same attention before his lips trailed kisses down the valley of your breasts and to your stomach, occasionally grazing his teeth against your skin and eliciting soft gasps from you.

In a matter of seconds his lips were grazing the waistband of your underwear, "Can I take this off?" He asked, lifting his head a bit to look at you and a smirk creeped onto his face when you nodded your head yes. His head dove back down and – to your surprise – he bit the waistband of your panties and slowly pulled it down with his teeth, his hands lifting your hips to make it easier to pull it down.

He rose up slightly after your panties were down around your thighs and took it off with his hands instead, discarding it somewhere on your bedroom floor before he leaned down again. This time, he peppered kisses all over your stomach and pelvis — purposely leaving kisses close to your cunt but not directly where you need him the most.

A needy sound escaped you involuntarily, your fingers carding through his hair all while pushing his head down slightly, and he finally complied, leaving a soft kiss on your glistening folds.

Chris flattened his tongue and licked a stripe up your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue before parting your folds with his fingers. His tongue flicked out to lick your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your, your hips bucking slightly involuntarily.

Seeing your pleasure, he gripped your hips tightly and pulled you more into his face, eating you out with a wild abandon. His tongue flicked your sensitive bundle of nerves quickly before wrapping his lips around it to suck hard on it, making you cry out in pleasure, your hands fisting in his hair and hips rolling slightly.

"Chris–oh!" Your back arched slightly when he pushed two long fingers in your sopping pussy, curling them just right to rub against that spongy spot inside you. "Sh-shit—just-just like that, feels s-so good baby–mmh-ah–s’good." Your moans spurred him on, a low groan vibrating against your folds.

Chris’ mouth worked overtime to get you over the edge, he wanted you to cum on his tongue, he wanted to taste you.

"C’mon, give it to me baby, fuckin’ cum on my face." Chris urged, doubling his efforts. His fingers fucked your cunt, curling upwards and rubbing hard on that spot that made your eyes roll back while he flicked your clit rapidly with his tongue, keeping his mouth solely focused on your clit.

You tensed up, a drawn out moan falling from your gaped mouth as you orgasmed, your hips bucking against his face as you rode out your intense orgasm.

"Good girl." He cooed as you came, his voice husky with barely restrained desire. "You look sooo pretty when you come baby." His hands gently caressed your inner thighs, slowly circling your clit with the tip of his tongue to prolong your high.

Despite just having made you climax, he wasn’t satisfied yet. He wanted more, he wanted you to feel more pleasure and he wanted to taste you again. Hence, he wrapped his lips around your clit again, giving it gentle suckles as his fingers prodded at your entrance.

He was addicted to your taste; your everything.

𓆩♡𓆪

You were on your fourth orgasm already, your body trembling with aftershocks, and Chris finally relented, kissing back up your body before lavishing attention on your tits again. He was rock hard and straining against his jeans, but he wanted you to feel good first.

He wanted to please you — his pretty girl.

𓆩♡𓆪

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒂

[moonstruckme]

love of my life, queen of all things smut and marauders..........I have a request if you don't mind 😈 I was thinking of this with Sirius, but it could truly be whoever you think fits. But what do you think of a fic where reader x Sirius have sex for the first time (FWB, relationship, whatever fits the vibe), and Sirius finishes and moves his attention to reader who goes "oh it's alright, I've never been successful at that part of sex before...." & then it becomes this fun challenge for Sirius who spends the rest of the evening finding out what works for her until he finally gets her off 😃 xoxoxoxooxoxoxo

Thanks for the request and for weathering the long wait gorgeous Elle <3

cw: smut mdni, reader is afab and has trouble with orgasming

fwb!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Fuck.” Sirius’ forehead crashes into yours, his breath hot on your lips. “Are you close?” 

“You should come.” Your voice is tight, strained, though not nearly so much as his. 

“Not before you.” 

“Please, Sirius.” You both moan as he thrusts deeper inside you, your legs squeezing tight around his middle. “Please, I want you to.” 

“I don’t—shit.” 

His brow tenses along with the rest of him as he spills into you. You feel the condom fill up with a heady satisfaction. You run your hands up his back soothingly, until he relaxes into you. 

“Fuck, gorgeous.” Sirius tilts his face to kiss at the slope of your cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I would…you just feel too good, have you gotten that complaint before?”

You laugh. “It’s not usually a complaint.” 

“No, but in this case…” He tuts, picking his head up to look at you. You expect to be self-conscious—it’s your first time seeing each other like this, and part of you is still fighting the urge to cover up and preserve your modesty—but the heavy drag of his gaze only makes you feel admired. “Well, anyways, sorry. How close are you?” 

“Oh, it’s okay.” You smile at him. Your finger traces the line of a tattoo on his bicep. “Don’t worry about it. I had fun.” 

Sirius blinks, and then his brows come down. “Hold on, that’s not fair. I want to get you off.” 

“Sirius, it’s really fine. I’m not…” You hesitate. You and Sirius have been friends for a while; it’s not as though you haven’t shared secrets before. And given what you’ve just shared with each other, you shouldn’t probably be embarrassed, but… “I haven’t exactly been…successful at that part of sex before.” 

Sirius’ eyebrows furrow as though he doesn’t quite understand what you mean. 

“I haven’t come,” you clarify. 

His eyes widen, lips parting. It’s horrendously attractive, worse with him still inside you. “You haven’t?” 

You shake your head. 

“Not ever?” 

You shake your head again. 

“Not even by yourself?” 

“Let’s just assume the answer to all of these questions is going to be no.” He shifts in you slightly, and you squirm. “Can you…?” 

“Oh. Yeah, sorry.” Sirius pulls out of you, looking somewhat awed. “So, forgive me, but what exactly are you getting out of this if you don’t expect to come?” 

You give him a droll look. “I guess I’m just a giver.” 

It’s more true than you let on. You enjoyed yourself more than you expected just now, watching Sirius come, knowing it was the sight of you and the feel of your flesh under his hands that did it. You hope he lets you do it again.

“I don’t have to come to have good sex,” you say in a more genuine tone. “It’s still fun for me.” 

“Right. Right, yeah, but—” 

“Listen, I’m only telling you so you don’t take it personally. It’s not a you thing, it’s just…” You gesture helplessly. “I’m not sure I can.” 

Sirius looks indignant. “I’m sure you can.” 

“I haven’t found any proof.” 

“Well, it’s—there’s a first time for everybody, doll. Can I try?” 

You sit up, drawing your legs closer and forcing him to sit back. “I told you, it’s not you.” 

“It could be me, though.” He grins roguishly. 

You roll your eyes, fighting a smile. “Don’t make this a pride thing.” 

“I’m not. I’m not, babe.” Sirius scoots towards you. He looks at you, sincere. “But it could be any number of factors, you know? Maybe you just haven’t tried the right thing, or there’s a lubrication issue, or something. It would be fun to try.” 

You rub your lips together. “It’d probably be a waste of time. And I don’t want you to be disappointed if it doesn’t work.” 

“I won’t be,” he promises. He crawls toward you on the bed, taking your ankle in hand to tug you closer. Your heart riots at the sight. “Let’s waste some time, gorgeous. I’ve got nothing else to do tonight. And you said you have fun even if you don’t finish, right?” 

“Right,” you admit. 

Sirius grins, flashing canines. “Lay back, then. Let me play with you a while.” 

It doesn’t take long to figure out that lubrication is not the issue. Between Sirius’ hands and his mouth, you’re spilled like warm honey across his sheets in minutes. He bites marks into your thighs, goes from gentle to masochistic to gentle again with his hands on your breasts, curls his fingers inside you so that you make sounds you don’t recognize. All the while, he calls you sweet names rolled up in taunts, making your cheeks burn and your body seem to give up any will of its own. It begins to feel cruel; the combination of who Sirius is and what he can do to you.

But it’s when he uses his tongue that you start to tremble. 

Your hand clamps blindly down on his shoulder, caught between keeping him close and pushing him away. Sirius’ hum, heavy with smugness and intrigue, is a vibration like you’ve never felt before. He takes your clit into his mouth. 

It’s altogether too much and not enough. You shift your hips, gasping, but after a while your breaths even into a steadier pant. You start to adjust to this new pleasure. Just when you think you’ve got it under control, you’re safe, Sirius slips his wicked fingers into your entrance again. 

“There you are.” His voice thrums with satisfaction as he kisses your clit. “You’ve been so good, sweetheart. So patient.” 

“Sirius, I—”

“What?” 

“I feel—” 

“What, pretty girl?” 

“Sirius.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m being mean.” He nibbles ever so gently at your clit, making you jolt away from him. Your walls clench around his fingers. “You’re just so much fun when you’re worked up like this, I can’t help myself.” 

He curls his fingers into that torturous spot along your inner wall, and what you want isn’t more sensation, but you can no longer find the words to tell him so. You dig your nails into Sirius’ shoulders and squeeze your eyes shut, feeling on the precipice of something great and terrible. Some kind of wreckage. 

“You’re okay, doll,” Sirius soothes. “You’re just fine. You like this, don’t you? Don’t you want to come?” 

With his low, sweet question, you do. You wreck like a ship against the shoreline. Splintering, screaming, crashing and drowning. Sirius laughs like the enemy vessel as you do.

It’s some time later when the stars clear from behind your eyes. You let out a shuddering breath. “Fuck.” 

“Mhm. That’s usually how it goes.” Sirius is all tenderness now. He kisses up your sweaty, overworked abdomen until he reaches your collarbone, where he nibbles rewardingly. “Good job, sweetness. And good job me, if I do say so myself.” 

You open your eyes to peek at him through your lashes. “Aren’t I supposed to say so?” 

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your chin. “Fairly sure you just did. I wouldn’t have guessed you had sounds like that in you.” 

“Me neither,” you admit. 

“Well, now I’ve got something new to work towards, I suppose.” 

“Sirius,” you sigh. “That was the first time I’ve ever come, and it took nearly an hour. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do that again.” 

“Oh, such a defeatist.” Sirius cups your face in his hands, thumbs moving sweetly down your cheeks as he presses a firm kiss to your lips. “I meant getting those sounds out of you again. But don’t worry, gorgeous, we’ll manage both.”

[soldiersgirl]

your latest posts have me thinking of ben with a perv younger gf reader that has too much energy and talks his ears off for fun 😩

she matches his freak so well that sometimes he's a little dumbfounded ughh

this INSPIRED ME to write a small drabble for it, i just couldn't resist bc she is me and i'm her

summary — just annoying the grandpa x

cw — reader x soldier boy. smut 18+ (if you squint), cursing, flirting, drinking, sarcasm, teasing, billy and hughie make a small appearance.

word count — 1690 words

sure, flirting had been different when ben was younger, but this? the modern way of flirting? even he was out of his depths at times and that certainly took some serious skill and courage to silence him.

it had all started innocently when butcher had reached out to you for a "favour", as he called it. so what, a guy saves your life once and now you owe him? fuck sake.

"babysitting? do i look like a teenager trynna earn some pocket money?" you groan on the phone to butcher.

"listen love. easy gig, quick cash. it couldn't be any fucking simpler. you just need to keep the git alive and out o' trouble, yeah? even you could fucking figure that out." he mumbles in reply.

"what do i get out of it?" you huff as you bend down to tie your shoes, knowing you were going to agree to it, no matter what, but why not tease billy while you're at it?

"get out of it? the cheek on you is astounding. fuck, listen. you get to fuckin' relax and i'll pay for your bloody dinner and give you 100 for it, alright?"

"alright, alright." you hold your phone between your head and shoulder as you pull on your jacket. "text me the address and i'll be there in twenty." you replied. billy merely groaned and then the dial tone. "dick." you scoffed before checking your texts, pulling on your headphones and heading out into the wild jungle of new york.

much to your surprise, your "favour" wasn't as small as billy had made it sound on the phone when you finally showed up at the dingy apartment, alongside him and hughie. you step inside and immediately the smell of sex, weed and fast food overwhelms you as you gaze around at the abandoned take-away boxes and half-drunk whiskey bottles. a towering figure wanders out from the bedroom dressed in grey sweatpants and a new york giants button up t-shirt and a lit joint dangling from his lips. your eyes connect, mirroring the same expression of confusion and disbelief.

"who the fuck is this?" the man huffs as he takes a hit from his thick joint and studies you.

"yeah, butcher..." you turn and cock your head at him in disbelief. "who the fuck is this?" you jut your thumb behind you and hear him let out a low chuckle before both him and butcher erupt into a fit of laughter. you stare at hughie for an ounce of help but he looks equally as uncomfortable as you. "billy, when you said babysit, i thought you meant for a fucking 5 year old or something!"

"alright sweetheart, i am 105 so, close enough and i don't need no cock-suckin' babysitter anyway." he swaggers closer and sits down at the cluttered, rickety kitchen table and takes a swig of the closest whiskey bottle.

"you're literally not helping the situation, grandpa." you turn and sneer at him. he only guffaws and inhales more of his joint.

"what a firecracker you've got yourself there, butcher. if she doesn't rope in her fuckin' attitude, i can't guarantee she's alive when you come back." he says calmly, as if it's the most normal thing to say. you jerk forward but butcher and hughie quickly pull you back.

"excuse us a minute, mate." butcher smiles and drags you into the hallway as you continue to protest and shout insults at the asshole.

"you've finally lost your mind if you think i'm fucking sticking around and babysitting an actual murderer." you begin, but butcher quickly cuts you off.

"listen love, he's just kidding, alright? the fella's 105, right? he's doped up on all kinds of meds, he can't hurt a fly right now. plus, he's saving his energy so you're not in any real danger. trust me." billy sways as he gives you that devilish smile, you've grown to know too well. "just keep soldier boy entertained and busy, let him talk your fucking ear off. doesn't get easier." he shrugs.

"... soldier boy?" you pause. butcher rolls his eyes and with the help of hughie, they quickly describe their catastrophic trip to russia and discovering the bastard was still alive and how they plan to use him to stop homelander. you can only nod and hum as you try to absorb the severity of the situation, but with a grain of salt.

"alright. look, i'll 'babysit' him this once." you use air quotes before running your hands over your face, not believing what you're agreeing to. "but this, this is fucking crazy."

"yeah, yeah. thanks, love." butcher huffs before dragging you back into the apartment and explaining the situation to soldier boy before handing him another bag of miscellaneous pills. they wish you luck and stuff some bills in your hand for dinner and suddenly, it was just you and the 105-year old man-child stuck together.

the first few hours flew by without an incident and you weren't quite sure how you had managed to listen to his incoherent rants about modern society and the state of feminism without losing your mind. it might have something to do with the fact that he could explode and kill you at any moment, but it could be also be because he offered you good weed in return which made everything much more tolerable.

you had eaten some cheap-ass pizza from a nearby restaurant before settling down with a beer or two and watching whatever was showing on his shitty tv. you would occasionally hum or nod in agreement to whatever nonsense he spewed just to keep him sated; he was so into hearing his own voice that it didn't register to him that he had barely heard yours.

until you were moaning and groaning his name as he ruthlessly thrusted himself into you right there on the same couch, with your ankles dangling above your head and his hand firmly around your throat. you weren't sure how this happened or escalated, but you definitely weren't complaining as you marvelled at his toned body and handsome features. the sly, fox-like grin and matching mischievous eyes, toussled chestnut, brown hair and jawline you could cut yourself on. he pounded into your slick folds at a delicious pace, slowly dragging himself in and out of you and gazing in awe at where your bodies connected. his back scratched up and your throat littered with love bites; leaving little gifts for one another on each others bodies.

you let him take out his years of frustration and pent up anger on your body as you laid and relished in the sensation of it; welcoming every word that slipped past his plush lips and every grab from his calloused hands with a grin on your face as multiple orgasms washed over you and ebbed away at your previous hesitations. and that's how it started, this thing between you and ben.

it wasn't exactly healthy and didn't always work out, considering the amount of times you'd get into shouting matches with the older supe, but billy now had a reliable baby-sitter, so he wasn't going to complain.

"jesus christ, do you ever shut the fuck up?" ben groans as you complain about the state of his apartment, finding pizza crusts scattered around, as well as finding weapons and drugs just laying haphazardly in places where you'd least expect them.

"only when your cock is stuffed into my mouth." you state matter-of-factly as you're bent over and letting your eyes glance over the sad contents of it; a few beers, the aforementioned knife and one expired milk cartoon. ben visibly freezes and splutters, the beer in his mouth catching in his throat. you snap up, slam the fridge and give him a wink whilst hiding your small smirk. there is nothing you loved more than getting under his "thick" skin. you start unpacking the groceries you had gotten for you both; it was going to be another long night of keeping him in line and unlike him, you actually needed to eat.

"back in my day, ladies wouldn't have a mouth on 'em like you do." he scoffed, trying to act like your words weren't affecting him they way you know they were.

"you know ben? you're so fucking stuck in the past, that you have no clue how to function here! we're all trying to help you but you're just too fucking stubborn," you start and he lets out a groan as he knew what this meant; another one of your long tirades about whatever was occupying your mind. he was getting a taste of his own medicine, so he tried to keep his complains to a minimum as he settled into the kitchen chair and watch you with a beer. you rant for a little while and all he does is grunt and him, knowing it's better to just let you talk then to interrupt you; he's unsuccessfully tried a few times.

"looks like i need to fuck you harder to get my fuckin' message across." he just grumbles as you finally sit down opposite him with a scowl.

"if you're not careful, i'll fuck you harder and show how you a real women works these days." you laugh as ben takes over your previous scowl and just shakes his head. "oh ben, i am a ride that you wouldn't survive." you wink dramatically and to his dismay, he blushes before knocking back the rest of his beer.

"i should've stayed in the fucking '50's." he groans and runs his hands over his face, rubbing his beard as his tired eyes glance over you.

"but then, you wouldn't have experienced me bouncing on you, crazy style." you pout, leaning forward and grabbing his hands. he abruptly stands up and sighs before announcing that he needed a fucking nap and a bottle of jameson before he could handle anymore bullshit from you. you're left sat with a shit-eating grin, knowing that in an hour or two, he'll come crawling back and begging to hear you talk dirty to him as he pounds into you.

a/n: idk what this is but here we are. this is what my brain conjured up and honestly, this took too long for me to write, so im sorry anon that this is so late </3 -`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @kayleighwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @doeinlace @cowboysandcigarettes @daylighted (comment or inbox me to be added)

[bitletsanddrabbles]

The characters of the Gilded Age. How I do kinda depends on who's doing the rescuing.

If it's the Russells, I'm probably fine, unless George and Bertha disagree over how or why to rescue me and they both get involved. I mean, if George is trying to rescue me on his own and Bertha just stays out of it, I'll be fine. It's if they interfere with each other I'm in trouble.

If it's the van Rhijns I'm dead. I love them, but when it comes to getting things done, they're worthless. Unless maybe there's something in it for Oscar...then I might be okay...but I can't think of anything Agnes would get out of rescuing me, so she'd probably just grouse about his efforts and, if anything, get in the way.

If it's the Scotts....50/50 chances. It depends on how badly Arthur's pissed off the women folk today. Not that Dorothy and Peggy couldn't rescue me on their own, but if they're being distracted by being pissed at him, it might not go so well.

[bblairxe]

— ୨ৎ movie night . sevika x reader . nsfw

it’s a friday night, which also means it’s you and sevika’s weekly movie night. tonight, the two of you were going to watch some shitty 2000’s slasher film. she was always one for the excessive amount of blood, screams, and lame jump scares. she claims that it’s ‘great advice for the future.’

you’re slotted in between her thighs, your back flushed with her chest. you could feel each breath she takes and the steady pace of her heartbeat. it’s all so comforting, like she’s protecting you from all the troubles from the outside world with her large embrace.

you both stay like that for the duration of the movie. until you feel sevika’s flesh hand release it’s hold from your waist and settle on your chest. you don’t think much of it, she’s always had some kind of ‘your boobs are like my stress balls’ thing with your chest. but you feel her thumb rubbing over your nipple, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “vika, i’m tryna focus.”

“then focus, doll. m’ not doing anything.”

you roll your eyes at her words. obviously she knew what she was doing, and as much as you wanted to snap back at her with some bratty remark, you hold your tongue.

you bring your attention back to the screen in front of you. apparently the main character’s ex boyfriend turned out to be the killer and is now going on a whole killing spree. how fun. you tried your best to keep your focus on the movie, not wanting to give into sevika’s horny tendencies.

that’s until you feel her hand start to go lower, breaking the waistband of your shorts. her fingers ghost over your clit barely touching but it’s enough to send a shiver through your body. she lets out a low chuckle at your shifting, your attempt to squirm away from her touch. she wraps her mech arm below your chest, holding you in place.

“watch the movie, baby. focus.”

“vika, you know i can’t. not when you’re touching me like — oh fuck.”

she pulls your underwear to the side and dips a finger into your hole. the sound of your juices sloshing around her brings a cocky smile to her face. “so wet for me, yet you’re worried about a movie.” she huffs, slowly plunging her finger in and out of you.

you let out a whine in response, the movie the two of you were watching became nothing but background noise. your back arches off of her and your hips begin to move in sync with her hand. she feels so full inside of you, but it’s not enough. “two, please. n-need it sev.”

“what-a-fuckin’ whore.” is all she says before another fingers scissors inside of you. she gives you time to adjust to the new stretch. of course, she’s not all that evil, but once your whines start quieting down, she starts going harder and deeper.

her fingers curl up to that spot inside of you, each thrust kissing it. her pace is more calculated, she wants to see you fall apart in her grasp, watch you shake from just her fingers alone. she feels the way your walls clench and convulse around her, each contraction signaling that you’re getting closer.

“mmffhh sev, i’m close baby, d-don’t stop.” your demand comes out more like a plea, paired with the guttural moans coming from your lips.

“yeah, you gonna cum?” her pace speeds up, the sound of her hand connecting with your skin escaping the blankets. your head falls back against her shoulder, your thighs shaking around her arm. it’s so close, you’re so close, until she stops and her finger pulls out.

“finish watching this movie, and then i’ll let you cum.”

🏷️ : @samcvrpenters @ellieslosttwofingers @polarhues @pornoangelz @thedxxthnotes

[yaseraphine]

pick a card 5 - what are people's first impressions of you ?

masterlist / ko-fi

my last post : your 2025 main lesson and themes.

Pile 1

10 of cups, King of Swords, 9 of Wands, 7 of Swords, 4 of Wands, The Sun, The Lovers, Death

Mischevious, Cunning, Manipulative in a flirtatious way ??, flirtatious, funny, Victorious, Happy, Fun to be around, Doesn’t take responsibility for things, Playful, Too unserious, Hot and sexy, Hot n Fun, Short n Sweet, Wet n Wild, If you’re a woman, people might think you easily get super wet (what is wrong with people respectfully 💀), Femme fatale/fboy boy, You look like trouble pile 1 not gonna lie lmaoo, Too hot to handle, People assume you’re a cheater or just kind of sneaky but all of that dark energy comes out somehow really playful ?? At first glance you exude strong Gemini and Aries energies  : kind of childish and playful, really “oopsie daisy”. They’re impression is that you’re the type of person that plays dumb when you get called out for your misbehavior. People might think you are commitment phobic, A player but people don't even mind to be heartbroken if it's you : “I don’t care if I get played by them tbh” people lowkey want to get heartbroken by you (people are crazy 🤡) 

People’s first impressions of you is that you’re a firecracker. Pile 1 I keep on seeing Maddy from Euphoria and Megan Thee Stallion’s Realer era, Pimpin is a song that plays in the background when you’re walking in the street lmaoo You look like you're always in a badass edit

I am hearing the lyrics “she bad mix the ratchet with the classy ooh so bad i just couldn’t let her past me no i told her “shawty, you so right but you so wrong”. Pile 1, you definitely got that aaah (reference to that one tiktok sound of She Knows - Ne-yo feat Juicy J and T pain). You literally make people do double takes on you.

People directly assume if you came into their life, you would ruin them but they would consent to their own self destruction because of how hot you are.

People's first impressions of you is that you’re a master manipulator, but not a horrible one that genuinely leaves others traumatized forever. You’re flirty, sometimes on purpose, sometimes not, but it's mostly people's delusions and projections that hurt them more than anything. They just assume things when you never meant anything, and honestly I don't even think you give people mixed signals. People mix them up by themselves. Like you smile at them just out of politeness and people are like “ damn they're into me or what ?!” What kind of people are around you Pile 1 ? Never met this level of delusion in my life 😭☠️

Something extremely strange about those impressions is that I don’t think people think you’re toxic ?? Which is a bit weird because I have been only describing manipulative behaviors… Pile 1, your energy is really complex to grasp and it stirs intense and contradictory reactions inside people when they first meet you.

I am getting people make a lot of assumptions about you because it’s not just first impressions. People project a lot on you, probably because you are really attractive and people seem to not be able to think a hot and sexy person can be a good and kind hearted person ??? These people are projecting hard literally

People’s first impressions of you is that you are a really sunny person, a really bright and happy go lucky person. 

They also instantly get that you probably got a lot of suitors and people at your feet, waiting for their chance with you. 

When they talk to you, I feel like people get really insecure and they instantly start to compare your life (i mean the 1000 assumptions of what your life is like that they created in their heads on the spot...) and compare it to their own lives. They compare your eloquence, your energy, your aura, the energy and the vibes you exude with their lack of charisma and presence. I don’t know if you’re around a lot of insecure people but be careful, some of them are secretly waiting for your downfall because of how jealous they are of you.

The type of people that are jealous of you instantly when they first see you are generally the same gender as you. If you’re a man, they compare for example how healthy your hair are, how women are easily attracted to you and follow you everywhere you go . Not going to lie it’s giving Chad VS Nice guy/ Incel kind of dynamic. Like they're internal dialogue would probably something like : “ Nice guys finish last anyways… I am sure he treats girls bad and is a player and girls still love him…It's so fucking unfair.” (such a low vibrational energy yikes 🤢). If you’re a girl, they compare your body, your smile, your makeup and how your outfits fit you perfectly , how their own crushes seem to like you more than them YET you don’t even pay mind to them (the jealous people’s crushes) lol 

Pile 1, I would advise you to be extra protective of yourself and your energy. Your spirit irritates a lot of people’s demons.

I find it interesting because this pile is heavy on gender dynamics, power of attraction,... Most of you here are probably straight, or bisexual at least. I don’t see much queer action going on. You also have a really young and fresh energy so you are probably in your 20s.

You incite a lot of hate, jealousy and envy from the same gender. And you incite a lot of obsession, desire and admiration from the opposite. You incite so much jealousy just by your presence, and it happens almost systematically and starts right when people meet you for the first time. I feel like you might have lilith somewhere prominent in your chart, first house, harshly aspected with your ascendant, also Neptune dominance.

People look at you and they instantly think to themselves “this person should star in a movie, what are they doing working in at the local Walmart ??” or “they should be in the cover of vogue. Why are they in college ? They're too hot to be sitting in a classroom all day ?!!” 

Something I am getting from all this channeling is that people's first impressions of you are generally extreme, and mostly false 💀 Different people have different assumptions about you, but everyone seem to agree that you first come across as a heartbreaker and a player. Basically pile 1, you look like trouble at first glance.

The quote I got for you is a beautiful one from Carl Jung : “People will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own souls”

MUSIC : Pimpin by Megan Thee Stallion / Ne-yo feat Juicy J, T-pain - She Knows (Remix) 2014

Pile 2

Ace of Wands Rx, 5 of Wands, 4 of Wands, 6 of Swords, 2 of Swords, 8 of Cups, The Hanged Man, 5 of Pentacles

People’s first impressions of you is that you’re really closed off and standoffish. Really protective over your energy, your time and your space. You appear somehow aggressively defensive, really “get out of my way bitch” type of energy. 

People’s first impressions are that you’re holding on to a lot of pain and hurt which, in result, makes you really hostile. People can see at first glance that you have been through a lot of negative experiences in life, which made you in return cold and distant. 

Pile 2, you give the energy of a black cat, and you hiss at any person trying to approach you too closely. You really have that lone cat energy.

You have the vibes of someone that bites back. I am hearing the audio “Get your fucking dog bitch!! “ / “It don’t bite.” / ‘YES IT DO !!!”. People think you will jump on them at any given moment if they say something that you don’t like,...lol

When they first meet you, people try to be really careful with their words because they are scared that if they say something wrong, they will cross you. If you’re with a group or someone else when people first meet you, they will avoid, out of fear, to directly engage with you, and will observe how your friends or the people that are with you handle you so they can do the same. 

Pile 2, people’s first impressions of you is that you are scary as hell lmaoo

You give people the impression that you’re judging them in a way. You might unintentionally side eye people a lot. You make people uncomfortable with your standoffish attitude. 

Now, this pile is divided in two sub-types : 

you are perceived exactly like what I described above : really bitchy vibes, no bullshit energy. You’re protective of your energy because you have a lot of self-respect and don’t want people to disrespect the way some did to you in the past. 

The second type, you are like this not really because of self-respect but because there is an underlying insecurity, something particularly broken inside of you. It feels almost like you put up this front of confidence and assertiveness and people usually can see right through it. If you’re faking it until making it a lot of people upon their first impressions pick up on that. 

These two sub-types can be blended too, like you could be both at the same time or perceived as both at the same time. (I don’t know if this makes sense )

People’s first impressions of you is that you are really authoritative and controlling. You probably have a really tight schedule that you don’t like to change for anyone. You look like you don’t like to compromise or work in groups. Their first impressions of you are also that you don’t really like change, you don’t like incompetency, and that you have a really good skincare routine (??random as hell lmaoo). 

People think you eat healthy boring food, like bland porridge for breakfast and a bland salad with almost no seasoning, that you snack on overtly expensive cereal and protein bars that taste like grass (people are really funny i swear this is so hyper specific)

I think their first impressions get them to make a few assumptions on you for a few minutes, but then they move on with their lives like “well i don’t know good for them” or “let them be”. People don’t want to get too carried away in the impressions they have of you and the assumptions they make from it because they don’t want to disturb your peace. Like you have an energetic protection that gives them a limited amount of time to ponder on who you might be. Like I am seeing a system almost like the one in Inside out, a little creature, a fairy or a guardian angel, coming into the person’s mind and starting the timer the moment they stare at you or interact with you for the first time with their foot tapping on the floor and their eyebrows frowned, looking over their watch each second ticking with growing impatience. People feel like they have to go through tests to be allowed to think of you deliberately. 

Pile 2, you have really protective guardian angels damn ! They tolerate no bullshit congrats!!

QUOTE : healed people hear differently

SONGS : Focus - Saweetie / Plan B - Megan thee Stallion / Here - Alessia Cara

Pile 3

King of pentacles, The Star, 7 of swords, 10 of Pentacles, Ace of Wands, 10 of Wands, 5 of Cups, Death

When I first started shuffling for your pile, High Maintenance of Saweetie started playing. Pile 3, you’re standing on business ! It was especially this lyric that stood out to me : 

“See I'ma rider but nah I ain't a die

'Cause I wouldn't take a bullet for a n***a, that's a lie”

People’s first impressions of you is that you are a workaholic with all your life figured out. You have a clear path of where your life will take you. 

People’s first impressions of you is that you’re extremely busy and productive, but, despite that, you are not a robot that does things mindlessly and repetitively. No, you are your own unique person, you have a clear and  higher vision, you seem like a complex individual with a mind of your own.

People’s first impressions of you is that you are a complex individual, with many layers. Instantly, people want to get to know you and get closer to you. They want to know your backstory, and what led you to be so passionate about everything you do today. They want to know how you seem to manage everything in your life so gracefully. 

People’s first impressions of you is that you are a deep soul that learned to make peace with the lighter side of life. You know when to let go and have fun, and when to cling onto things and be serious about things. 

People’s first impressions of you is that you’re beautiful, I am even hearing “striking”. 

People perceive your beauty as being ethereal. It’s not an instagram model type of pretty or handsome, it’s more sophisticated, it’s unique, it is just “you”. 

Maybe a lot of you are not conventionally attractive, you have a particular physical trait, something that makes you stand out instantly. It usually disturbs people a bit when they first meet you like “Oh!...”. I don’t know if you get what I am trying to say lol It is like you’re a woman with really thick and black body hair, but, instead of hiding them or shaving them, you just let them be there. You don’t really care much whether people see them or not. It could also be that you have back acne, and this does not stop you from wearing tank tops or just let them be visible. You don’t try to make a bold statement by doing this, because you’re just like “It’s natural what can I do about this ? It is what it is.” . People immediately pick up on this type of mentality from you. People want you to teach them how to do it. I am hearing “Teach me your ways master” lol . You seem really wise and you know how to not take everything personally. Really an old soul. 

Back to the physical trait thing (because I think people scrutinize your face a lot when they first meet you), you might have a roman nose, or you might look really “ethnic” or “exotic” to people. Maybe you’re a POC in a predominantly white environment, or you just look quite different from your peers.

-> Ok guys, I am picking up on something INSANE. People who would usually bully others for that physical trait you have, sense your strong self-respect and energy and are instantly subconsciously afraid to make fun of you or to try to belittle you. This is actually so fucked up what… I don’t know what is going on in this entire reading but a lot of low vibrational energies were channeled. Anyways. I feel like you grew up being the weird kid that grew into your features and personality, and now, retired high school bullies (not the one that bullied you, if it happened, just general retired high school bullies) lowkey sense they would have bullied you in the past if you were in the same class as them but now can’t do it because it’s lame and not socially acceptable for adults to do shit like that.

People are kind of scared to sit in your energy for too long when they first meet you and have their impressions about you because they feel like their energies are not high vibrational enough for them to be allowed to sit in your powerful energy for too long ?? Lol You intimidate people a lot but they don’t know why, they just feel the urge to shut the f up in your presence and just bathe in your energy silently ?? Weird 

Okay Pile 3, keep it up , never let people dim your light ! Your soul has a powerful pure essence that will  take you far in life.

QUOTE : My soul has traveled long and far to find yours

SONGS : Froot - MARINA / High Maintenance - Saweetie / Icy - ITZY

[goldfades]

idk if sb alr requested this but hayes being an absolute mamas boy

does not let his dada touch mama at all

here's one more for yall!

Maisie’s house was bustling—full of laughter, chatter, and the occasional sound of a football game playing in the background. Everyone was enjoying themselves, catching up, snacking on appetizers.

Everyone except Hayes.

Hayes was plastered to your side, tiny arms wrapped around your neck like a little koala. He had no interest in the conversation, in his cousins, in anything except keeping full body contact with you at all times.

And the second anyone tried to talk to you?

Oh, Hayes had a problem with that.

"Y/N, oh my god, you have to try this dip—" Maisie started, only to be immediately interrupted.

"No!" Hayes huffed, tucking his face into your shoulder like he was shielding you from her.

Maisie blinked. "Excuse me?"

You sighed, rubbing Hayes’ back. "Baby, Aunt Maisie’s just talking to Mommy."

Hayes lifted his head, giving Maisie a hard stare before turning back to you with wide, innocent eyes. "Mama."

Maisie snorted. "Oh, okay. I see how it is."

Joe was already grinning from his spot on the couch, shaking his head as he took in the scene.

Then Jamie walked in. "Hey, Y/N, can you pass me that—"

"NO!"

Jamie froze, looking between you and your tiny, overly possessive child.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, confused.

"Hayes," Joe called out from across the room, barely holding back his amusement. "You do know Mommy is allowed to talk to other people, right?"

Hayes frowned at him before turning back to you, his little hands gripping your shirt tighter like you were about to be ripped away from him.

"Ma-ma," he whined, clearly done with all these distractions.

You sighed, kissing the top of his head. "I’m not going anywhere, baby."

That seemed to satisfy him—until Dan’s wife, Lily, sat beside you and smiled.

"Y/N, have you seen that show on Netflix? I was just—"

"No!"

Joe burst out laughing as Hayes physically turned your face away from Lily’s direction, effectively cutting off the conversation.

Lily raised a brow. "Are you serious?"

Joe wiped at his eyes. "He’s so serious right now."

Maisie shook her head, grinning. "God, I hope this never ends. This is the best entertainment I’ve had in weeks."

But you were starting to get a little worried.

You tilted your head down at your son, who was nestled so firmly into you, it was like he was fused to your skin.

"Baby," you murmured gently. "Why don’t you go play with your cousins?"

Hayes shook his head violently, gripping you tighter. "No. Mama."

Joe, who had made his way over, crouched in front of you two. "Okay, buddy, I think it’s time to share."

Hayes glared at him.

Joe chuckled. "Okay, damn."

"You are in so much trouble," Maisie teased. "The minute she tries to leave for a girls' night? Disaster."

Lily nodded. "The first day of preschool? Catastrophe."

Jamie smirked. "Oh, and when he finds out you guys go on date nights without him?"

Joe winced. "Alright, enough."

But you were already imagining it, the meltdowns, the clinginess, the tantrums.

Still, as you rubbed slow circles into Hayes’ back, listening to his little content sighs, you couldn’t help but smile.

"Guess I’ve got another man in my life, huh?" you teased, glancing at Joe.

Joe groaned, shaking his head. "I don’t stand a chance."

And from the way Hayes smirked smugly into your neck, you knew Joe was right.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

watching white people being confused and shocked that we notice their habit of being the problem then crying about it when a black person dares to say they’re being racist in the tags of your post is cracking me up because like that’s yalls go to move? an intentional behavior every black person has experienced and you (collective, not personally) are surprised it’s a thing? i learned this concept as a literal child when i would get in trouble because i told a white girl to stop touching my hair and she cried so i needed to be cooler about being touched without my consent and my experiences are not unique lol

the thing is that there are so, so many white people who ideologically disagree with institutional racism and recognize that it's Bad but have done very little to check the more subtle forms of white supremacy that permeate our lives, and if you try to point out to this flavor of white person how much work the average POC is doing to anticipate and coddle their ignorance to avoid making a scene they will freak the fuck out.

and if I may @ my fellow white queers in particular, I think it's especially asinine to see many of us fall into this behavior when many of us have very similar experiences managing our queerness to put others at ease.

[nayaesworld]

Made Men

Mafia!Terry Richmond x Black reader

Warnings: MDNI, Family trauma, mentions of murder, betrayal

A/N: Happy Lovers Day y’all…I hope y’all enjoy💕

—

Summary: Focus on your studies, mind your manners, and stay away from that Richmond boy. Your aunt sang that same tune to you over and over again…but destiny had better plans. And In a world where most people experienced death long before love, how could you deny fate when it came wrapped in a 6’3 package with a crimson bow on top..made men made the underground world go round and yours just so happened to be a bit off its axis..

His very own Miss Universe. The epitome of black beauty and radiance, and he loved you. For all the things that were terribly wrong and fucked up in his life, you were that one right thing in his world that kept him grounded and humble. He loved you for all your weird quirks and interests, for all your loud laughs and giggles, and yet life was telling him yet again that he couldn’t have it all.

Why did the two of you deserve to pay for the past grievances of your families? Why did the two of you have to pay for something that y’all weren’t alive to experience? People were trying to keep her out of his reach, without knowing how far he’d go to get her. No limits. No fucks given for the lives he’d take so they had better stay out of his way. No more separation from her. He couldn’t live that way, couldn’t live without her.

She was worth the trouble, she was worth the risk.

Hands tapping lightly against the steering wheel of his 1969 Ford Mustang. Smoke billowing in the cabin of the car from his cigar. He had learned early on that patience was a virtue and honing it for the right moment made all the difference. He was watching and waiting for his cue, a signal from his baby. It was such a shame he had to even go to such lengths to bust her out of that prison they called her home. A sit down was what he was hoping for, a little chat of some sort to get down to the bottom of this bullshit. So much bull shit. Terry knew who he had to have it with and he played out how things might go in his head, but he’d take any chance if it meant peace with her.

A light switched on and off twice in the living room of the house. His signal..and a sign that things might not be going so smoothly inside for her. He blew out a stressed breath before he stepped out of his car, frustrations were running high but he tried to remain calm and let the bite from the wind chill his hot head. They were supposed to be on the road by now. Long gone and doused in the warm sun deep in Jamaica. A retreat..an escape from this life, and her Valentine’s Day gift. Yet here he was February 13th a day before…bulllshit. His long black leather trench coat blew in the wind as he advanced towards her childhood home.

__

You

Things were bad again between you and your aunt. The packed bags and visible passport sent her into a fit of rage. Only this time you met her frenzied haze of nasty words and disappointment with your own anger. You were beyond fed up, her constant overprotective nature and disregard for your feelings was wearing you down.

“What? You thought I was gonna just let you run off with that boy…he’s no good?!”

“You never even tried to get to know him, you’re a fucking hypocrite, you’re ruining my damn life and you don’t even care!” Wet hot tears streamed from your face endlessly, your body running high on emotions and you were lightheaded from all the yelling.

“I know enough about his family that I shouldn’t have ever let you get close to him! You don’t know what you think you do and I’m sick of repeating myself.”

“Yet again you're speaking in a riddle like I’m some child..tell me the truth. If you care for me how you so often claim. Tell. Me. The. Truth.” Your fingers hit your palm after every word. Beyond fed up with your aunt's silly little rants, this was not going to be how you continued to live your life.

A heavy knock at the front door shut her mouth before she could lie again. The knock was loud and solid, but knowing who resided on the other side of it made your hammering heartbeat calm down enough for you to finally breathe.

Your protector.

Your calm in the loud world.

Your Terry.

You rushed to open the door, almost pulling it clean from its hinges in your rush to get there before your aunt. Leathered hands reached for you and pulled you into his embrace, the smooth cool leather not hiding the rapid thump of his heartbeat. He was angry too..and rightfully so.

“Are you ok..did anybody put their hands on you?” He fired off questions quickly and I shook my head no before he placed me behind him and stepped into the house.

“You’re not welcomed here..bold of you to show your goddamn face.”

“I’m welcomed wherever she is. Because unlike you I have her best interest..period.” You watched him reach down and set a timer on his wristwatch before he rolled his tense shoulders.

“Five minutes. That’s how long you get to tell your niece the truth, or I will. Tell her why you can’t bear to look me in my face…why you can’t tell her the truth after 25 fucking years of raising her.”

Vanessa; your aunt stared daggers at Terry. She reached into her purse and pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes and a lighter. A sign that she was getting overly irritated and anxious but you could care less. She owed you this and so much more. She pat the bottom of the pack before pulling one out and quickly lighting it.

“ I don’t owe her or you a motherfucking thing. And if you knew what was good for you, you’d watch your next words carefully.” Deflection. It was typical with her.

“Tick-Tock auntie, you do it or I will.” His usual smile ridden face was still and frozen in anger. A stark difference from the man you cracked jokes with.

“You damn Richmond men..always coming around taking what doesn’t belong to you. A bunch of no good ass niggas!” More riddles. More rage.

“Tell her how your obsessive and lustful behavior behind my uncle put her mother and father in harm's way. How you knew he actually wanted her but you didn’t mind playing the back field just as long as you were around him.” And there it was, the truth that for some reason I wasn’t owed. The reason my parents were murdered.

“Tell her! How even though you knew her mother had no interest in my uncle, you still planted those seeds into his head that got her parents murdered..you knew he couldn’t take her rejecting him and you sat back and watched this unfold anyways.”

Sobs escaped your mouth and threatened to choke me with their escape. The truth really did hurt and right not that pain was feeling more physical than mental. All that time without the truth..without your parents. Your child would never know this kind of pain and despair. You pulled the white mohair cardigan tightly around your little bump. You and Terry were going half on God's greatest gift to earth…something to live for and do better for. Your sole reason for wanting to get the hell away from this place. You had done your time here tenfold, it was time to get away and raise your baby with your fiancé.

“Go put your bags in the car baby..I’ll be right behind you.” He pressed a kiss to your temple and handed your bags to you.

“Hmm so you just gonna choose that nigga over your own flesh, how are you any different from me neice?”

I rushed over to rearrange her face but Terry grabbed me and pulled me to him. My shaking hands were covered by his large ones and I let their warmth mingled in with his protective gaze soothe me.

“Remember what we’re fighting for, baby. She’s not worth it, you know that, it’s just me, you, and our future.” He bent down into a squat and pressed a kiss to my belly, whispering kind words and affirmations to it.

“That baby will have his last name… his DNA. That’s no family of mine. You leave this house,you're dead to me girl!”

“I’m counting on it.” And with that you grabbed Terry's car keys and slowly carried all your belongings outside. Freedom at last.

__

Terry

“I haven’t heard from Terrell in a week, what did you do to him? I’ll have your body parts scattered from here to fucking South America..don’t test me boy!”

“My uncle is dead..and if you don’t want to meet the same fate as him I’d advise you to watch what you say next Vanessa. This is the bed you made, lay in it.”

“Terrell was a good man! He had his bad days, name a person that doesn’t…he loved me and you took him from me!” More deluded thoughts of “love” but what this really was was a sick obsession.

“My uncle was a sorry ass nigga. A scum that deserved to be wiped clean from this earth…behind her you gotta know I’ll get rid of anybody so please don’t be so surprised.”

Terry stepped into your room and headed to her walk-in closet where she had the rest of her valuables packed and tucked into a corner. He slung the duffel bags over his shoulder and grasped the photo album containing pictures of her and her parents before walking from the room. Vanessa sat in the recliner near the window watching Y/n settle into the passenger seat. Envy written across her face clear as day. She wanted what she couldn’t have, so she had planned to live vicariously through her niece. But those days were over.

“For what it's worth, she really did love you. Long before you broke her heart and crushed her dreams, you meant something to her once upon a time.” She squinted her eyes at him and walked over to stand toe to toe with him. Smoke from her cigarette blowing out of her pity and into his face.

“Get out of my house. And if you or her return to this city I won’t stop her uncles from going after either of you.”

Terry simply smirked to himself before walking away and out into the cold air. The constant purr of his car welcoming him back.

“Where will we go?” He stared into her pretty shining eyes, hands stroking her cheek.

“The time I had to spend away from you…I had something built for us, a haven. I promised you a home to raise our child in, someplace silent and serene. That place is ready love.”

__

“Baby you have to secure her head first..I promise you won’t break her.” You laughed softly at the panicked look on Terry’s face as you slid your one month old daughter into his arms.

Peace and bliss had befallen you and Terry those last months of your pregnancy. As he promised he had you nestled away in the beautiful woods of Fairburn, Georgia. The 3,000 square foot lake house sat on the Chattahoochee River smack dead in the middle of two acres of land ; it had a wrap-around porch and had three bedrooms and bathrooms. Your pregnancy was safe and your baby was healthy because of it, the quiet air surrounding you was a safety net.

You found peace everywhere on the property. Sitting on the front porch sipping your favorite red wine,arranging a savory dinner on the marble island in your kitchen, splashing your feet into the river while your fire pit crackled beside you, or those sweet nights where you laid in bed curled into the hard ridges of your fiancés body. Now your favorite times were spent nursing your daughter Clark, and adjusting to and loving the everlasting changes of motherhood. The love between you and Terry grew constantly and sometimes you’d wonder how it was even possible to love someone with every fiber of your being…how you could love everything about him.

“That little eyebrow arch she does is all you, and she thinks it’s so funny…hi my little dumpling aren’t you just the funniest sweet thing.” Your squeaky baby voice had Terry chuckling as you moved away to prepare her bottle. You poured the cooled breast milk into a four ounce bottle before placing it inside a bottle warmer to be heated. You squirted a bit on your wrist to test its temperature before walking into the living room and handing it to Terry. You watched her as her little hungry coos filled the living room and her tiny hands reached up to pull in her father’s shirt.

You munched on oatmeal chocolate chip lactation cookies and stroked the fine hairs along his neck. “Thank you for rescuing me. All I had to do was mention my situation one time,you never questioned me,never hesitated, all you did was act. I’m blessed that Clark has you for a father, she won’t ever feel what I felt growing up.”

“You thank me? I did what a man was supposed to do love, you don’t see that light around you..that light that binds me to you. I’ve killed for you…and to keep this peace I’d do it again. Because there is no price too high to pay for what you give me, what you just gave me.” He racked down and pecked a kiss onto the baby’s head before pulling you in for a tender kiss.

“We’re raising our daughter together, she’ll always have us…always feel the love we have for her. She's gonna grow up here and never have to lift a finger. She’ll be beautiful and smart just like her mommy because that’s what we intend for her.”

“And so it will be darling…next on our list the wedding”

“You ready to become Mrs.Richmond and give me a bunch of babies?”

“I’ve been Mrs.Richmond since we were seventeen having baseball tournaments in the park.. I loved you then and I still do…and I’ll give you a hundred babies, pretty boy.”

“Mm you want me to lay Clark down so we can work on number two right now..I think she wants a sibling, look at that face.” He held her up and matched the cute pouty expression on her face.

“My baby said no such thing..but mommy does need some loving from daddy. Can you have her down in ten minutes?”

He put her in the crook of his arm and began rocking her slowly. “Make it five, and put that new lace set on…I wanna tear it off you.”

You took off running towards your shared room and slipped into the racy pink set. You sank into the plush bed giggling softly to yourself. Thank god for made men…

__

@kirayuki22 @uniqueoutlierblog @rose-bliss @kaylalb @blackpinup22 @henneseyhoe @slvt4her @ruewritesoccasionally @writingsbytee @melalsworld @mauvecherie-writes @venusincleo @meadowshelby @cocooned-butterfly @playgurlxoxo @piscesdashcam @otfniah @23jammy @that-one-anxious-mango @ch33z3grits @melosliving @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @kenshisluvrgirl @rawflwrs @becauseimswagman1 @ranikyani @blyffe @keehendrixx @ovohanna24 @yassbishimvintage @pocketsizedpanther @simplyzeeka @zillasvilla @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

[neuronary]

#The Chase is them chasing him all over the Earth Kingdom#Azula meanwhile keeps getting thoughts about being the best and Earth Rumbles. only one of these is abnormal.#I'm sure that'll be fine#atla#avatar the last airbender#platonic brain polycule let's goooo#Zuko#Sokka#Aang#the gaang

I haven't touched a:tla in years but if there's one thing MuffinLance can do it's inspire me.

---

Azula keeps dreaming that she is blind.

It's strange, not least because when she dreams it it does not seem strange in the slightest, but it has alerted her to a weakness, and she cannot abide weaknesses.

The servants never question her (they are too afraid of her, which is meant to feel good but mostly feels twisty in the very depths of her stomach like if she thinks of Mai and Ty Lee for too long) so she is almost always left to her own devices. She knows they watch her, think her strange, as she wanders the palace halls, a blindfold over her face, tracing the walls until she has mapped every corner.

She'll know it better than the face in the mirror when she's finished. Better than her hands, which are her father's, and her hair, which is her mother's. This will be her's.

---

"Okay, what the fuck," Toph says, upon sitting up.

"Language," The Boulder says tiredly. "C'mon, I told you guys to watch it around her."

"Are you, alright, Bandit?" Headhunter asks. "This is the third time this week."

"I'm fine," Toph grumbles, because she is fine, she just keeps randomly falling asleep when she usually stays up way later and it's annoying more than anything.

"Maybe you should--" the Gecko begins. He is cut off by Toph hurling rocks at him.

---

It's good. Mai and Ty Lee are with her again and it's good. They're hers and she's finally got them back and that's good.

Azula ignores the little voice in her head that thinks that's sort of fucked up. That is decidedly not hers and therefore none of her concern.

---

Toph is pretty sure you can't own people. Or at least, if you do, it's very bad. That's not how having friends works. Except she finally has friends, for the first time in her whole life, and she's not totally sure it counts.

There's something... off. It's like she's always standing on the outside of their little circle. Like there's always something they're not telling her. Like the feeling of someone else shifting the earth beneath her feet before she wrenches it back from them.

She doesn't like it.

Maybe they're not her friends, because they're clearly not hers.

She throws more rocks at the Avatar and doesn't think about it.

---

When Azula dreams of her brother's faceless voice, it is not unusual; she doesn't know what he looks like anymore, although she can guess. When she dreams of him laughing, easily, surrounded by friends, it is unusual.

Mai and Ty Lee are there when she sleeps, sometimes uncontrollably. They both seem to understand that the world has changed for her, with the shifting of the ground and the sounds of the air singing far more than the visual cues she used to rely upon.

She can't trust anyone, she knows that. But if she could, she would trust them. Them, and the little voice in the back of her head that is definitely not hers.

---

Toph cannot see when she is awake and she cannot see when she dreams. That is what it means to be blind.

"What troubles you, young earthbender?" Uncle asks. Everyone just calls him 'Uncle' even though he's only Zuko's and nobody bothered telling her his name. Well. She's not going to ask.

Toph cannot see when she dreams her own dreams but sometimes. Sometimes she dreams of calligraphy brushes and play scrolls and classrooms and somehow she recognises them.

(Sometimes, she dreams of a long platform and two figures and flames and sometimes she is frozen and sometimes she screams and screams until everything is blue.) (She shouldn't even know what blue is.)

"Nothing," Toph says, flicking her foot and sending a rock the size of Uncle's stomach flying.

"What the hell, Toph?" the others all demand in perfect unison.

"Nothing," she repeats, soundless underneath their shared laughter.

Uncle's heartbeat thumps worried.

Toph ignores him.

---

"You can go home," Azula says after waking, feeling sick at herself and shaky. She cannot abide weakness. "You can go home, if you want. I'm not keeping you here."

"Why would I want to do that?" Mai drawls, picking underneath her nails with one of her knives.

Ty Lee smiles sympathetically. "Are you having nightmares?" The 'again' is silent.

"No," Azula lies, because one truth is one too many and she cannot abide weakness.

"We're not going home," Ty Lee agrees after a moment. "Where would be the fun in that?"

Azula should simply nod, accepting their loyalty, act as though it was a test. She feels sand in her throat at the thought. "Good," she says, half her voice, half another.

"Go back to sleep, you two," Mai grumbles, "or do you want to take my watch?"

When Azula dreams, she dreams of their days at the Royal Academy, before things were complicated and the worst part of her life was her mother's complaints. She dreams of Mai and Ty Lee and a girl in green who smiles as wide as Ty Lee and laughs twice as loud.

---

These people are nothing to you, it occurs to Toph as Aang shouts at her, like it's her fault they all left her to guard everything, like they didn't all leave her outside the library just like they leave her on the outside of everything else. Her hands are almost shaking with the rage that builds up in her, half hers, half another's, but all there, tight in her chest.

"How could you abandon him?" Aang cries.

The snap is more mental than audible.

"How could I do anything else?" Toph screams back. "How am I supposed to know what to do when none of you tell me anything?! Would you rather I let all of the rest of you get buried in that stupid library? Would that have just been a convenient way to get rid of me? Don't think I can't tell that you all hide things from me! What, is it some kind of signal the stupid little blind girl can't see? Well, this little blind girl saved all of your lives, so maybe you should be a little grateful! Maybe I shouldn't even bother with any of you!"

She hates them, all of them, with their stupid inside jokes, and their stupid expectations, and their stupid secret language she can't see.

They're all idiots, clearly. They hang around with Zuzu.

They apologise, after a while, because she's right, and they promise they didn't mean to exclude her.

"It's just that we've all got this spooky spirit psychic link," Sokka explains, a few days later. "We can kind of hear each others' thoughts and see each others' dreams. It's weird."

They can see each others' dreams. Huh.

"Huh," Toph says.

---

Azula dreams of the Fire Lord condemning her failure. She dreams of flames. She dreams of watching Zuko burn and being Zuko burning and of screaming. It's a familiar scene, up until it isn't.

Suddenly, as she dreams of being Zuko, burning because she failed, she dreams instead of the earth bursting forth to crush the Fire Lord. She dreams of him vanishing down, deep underground. She dreams of walls of earth and mud and stone rising between them, of flames bouncing helplessly off rocks.

She dreams of great beasts that make the earth rumble and feel more like home than the palace ever did.

When she wakes up, Mai and Ty Lee are watching her with a frown.

No matter how strange her dreams become, Azula knows reality. She has no choice.

"We're going to get into Ba Sing Se," she says, "and we're going to kill the Avatar."

---

Ba Sing Se is awful, just like Toph thought it would be. Everybody is still keeping things from her, and it hurts regardless of whether or not they mean it.

She's been having nightmares, too. Or, rather, the girl whos dreams she's seeing is having nightmares, and Toph can't seem to help all that much. She wishes she could do more, could save the girl's brother, but the fear paralyses her almost as badly as it paralyses her dreammate. It's all she can do to protect this girl, this firebender who is deathly afraid of the Fire Lord.

"Toph?" says Sokka. "We're going out to put up the Appa posters. Don't forget to bring a snack."

Toph grabs at the fruit bowl and comes away with an orange. She scowls and shoves it in her pocket; she's never been able to peel oranges properly. It's still in her pocket when she is captured.

---

They won't bother to rescue me, comes the thought, bitter and resigned and very much not her's.

They'll take too long to even notice that I'm gone.

Azula pauses her planning. It's taken some time to understand, but she's fairly certain that the voice in her head, the girl in green from her dreams, and the earthbender guarding her nightmares are one and the same. This is just the last piece of the puzzle.

"Mai," she says quietly, considering. "Ty Lee. Would you leave me for a moment? I need to meditate."

They share a look, concerned, that makes her fond in a way she wouldn't have been before this, but they leave.

---

These people are nothing, the other girl in Toph's head reassures her through her panic. What people say is impossible is nothing for people like us.

She breathes. In, and out, like the badgermoles taught her (like her father taught her).

Toph stands up and feels for the earth, for the parts of it that remain, no matter what is done to it.

Toph breathes, and stands up, and bends metal.

Anything is possible.

---

Azula watches the earthbender listen to the Avatar's sky bison leave, the beating of its limbs through the air above them roaring like a great flame.

Uncle Iroh twists to look at her, already trapped by the Dai Li. "Toph," he says, warningly, and the tone reminds Azula of every time he scolded her for retaliating against Zuko, every time he sided with her mother, every time he told her that's not a lady's way. In any case, the earthbender ignores him and turns to trudge towards them, shoving a hand into her pocket as she goes.

When she stops in front of Azula, she's holding out an orange.

"I think this is for you," the earthbender says.

You're mine, she thinks. You're mine to protect, like I'm yours, aren't I?

Azula takes the orange. "Yes," she says. "Yes, I think you're right."

Some spirit manages to get the gaang and zuko a link that connects their minds. They can share thoughts and their past with each other.

Tweaking this to “and they share dreams” because that’s how I started writing it.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, wrapping his sleeping bag around himself, and grabbing a comfort Momo, too. “Who’s dream was that?”

No one ‘fesses up. But it was kind of a rude question, and also a little rhetorical, anyway.

They all have nightmares with fire.

Having the Fire Lord himself looming over them, while they were on their knees? Not exactly a stretch.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, “how does Prince Jerkface keep finding us?”

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, “how did he know that seal jerky seasoned just right with honey—not too much, just enough to add a sparkle of sweetness to the depths of savoriness, a perfect balance for the distinguished tongue to relish—was the perfect bait for his Sokka and Sokka-affliated-parties trap?”

“Maybe if you stop dreaming about it, Sokka,” Katara snaps.

...And they all stop.

---

“I’m going to think really really hard about being friends,” Aang says.

“I’m going to think really really hard about that time my boomerang hit him,” says Sokka.

---

Snatching the boomerang out of midair? Impressive.

Ignoring the Avatar to go hit Sokka with it? Repeatedly? Uncalled for.

---

“Sokka. The city is under attack. Right now.”

“Okay,” Sokka says. “But this is a strategic nap, Katara. We need to know what evil things our Evil Other is up to.”

It’s not like the evil fleet part was a surprise, at least. They’ve been dreaming of it for weeks.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, looking down. “So the ship-blowing-up-thing. Not a nightmare?”

“No,” says Zuko, glaring up with his glare-face all glare-ful but his thoughts mostly full of bruises so deep they’re making Sokka’s ribs ache, and also his legs are going numb.

“Going to get out of the turtle-seal tunnel now?” Sokka asks, still standing over the opening. With his boomerang.

“...No,” the Prince of the Fire Nation says, as he clings onto the edge of the hole, his legs still very much in freezing water.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, when they have a Fire Prince all tied up in Blankets of Imprisonment. “So. What actually was your plan here? Do not,” he interrupts, before the teenage-shaped bloodhound-leech can do more than open his mouth, “say ‘capture the Avatar.’”

The prince closes his mouth. Glares. And kind of fuzzes at the edges, in the way all of them do when they’re about to fall asleep.

BOOMERANG, Sokka thinks, and Prince Largely Ineffective As An Enemy jerks back upright. His Momo hat chitters a complaint.

“Since we both know your answer is ‘I had no plan, Sokka, ‘plan’ starts with ‘p’ and there’s no ‘p’ in ‘Avatar’’, we’re going to play a game instead. It’s called ‘sleepy prince free association interrogation time.’”

“...What?”

“Battle plans,” Sokka says. “Attack. Fire Navy fleet. Ship numbers.”

Alas, “Fire Nation intelligence” is not something with which the prince’s brain is overly burdened.

“...Are you insulting me?”

“Are you proving my point?”

Elsewhere, Yue laughs in all their heads. Zuko flinches. The prince has a very marked reaction to the laughter of princesses.

---

“Okay,” says Sokka. “So that just happened.”

Commander Mutton Chops is groaning. Kind of flopping. Much like the bag he tried to fireball. Yue picks it up, and gently wrangles a fish back into water. Sokka is still not clear on what the fish-napping was about.

“It’s the Moon,” Aang says. “Or maybe the Ocean?”

Aang’s thoughts are full of a FACE STEALING EVIL CENTIPEDE MONSTER THAT IS JUST ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE THIN VEIL OF REALITY and that is NOT helping Sokka think.

“Okay,” he says again. “So. At least we can all agree on one thing.”

This is a very diplomatic way of saying they all wanted to dropkick Zhao. But some of them wanted to do it more than others.

The prince of the Fire Nation is even paler than normal, and staring across the clearing at his uncle.

“I can explain,” the prince says, while he’s thinking, oh shit treason oh crap uncle wouldn’t hurt me thought that about father too

Sokka wordlessly plucks Momo from the edge of the pond, where he’s been swiping at the spirit-fish, and drops him on the prince’s head.

Everyone needs a comfort Momo, now and again.

---

“A raft, Zuko?” Sokka says. Outloud. Because it makes things louder when you say it and think it. “A raft?”

Aang is bouncing on his toes. “We should go get him.”

The Avatar is grinning. And thinking, really hard and deliberately, as behind them the Water Tribe ship finishes packing, We should capture the Fire Prince,

“Okay,” Sokka says, with a grin.

[covenofagatha]

Hexed Hearts (Part 1)

Pilot

Agatha Harkness is the ruthless executive producer for the reality dating show Hexed Hearts, where you've been a PA for two years, but you want more

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: none yet

“Alright, people, thirty minutes to showtime! Season thirteen! I need our suitress out front, makeup on, and a smile on her face. I need the limos—where the fuck is limo three?—I need Billy out there, and who the fuck changed the lights in the pool to be green? Do we want it to look like an algae breeding ground? Come on, everyone, this isn’t amateur hour!” Agatha Harkness barks at the production team, sending them scrambling in different directions like a flock of chickens. 

“Um, Agatha,” one of the producers says timidly, visibly wincing when Agatha turns to her, annoyance radiating, “Limo three ran out of gas. I just got off the phone with the driver.” 

Agatha scoffs and you see the vein in her forehead bulge. “Why the fuck are you telling me that? Do you want me to fucking walk to them with a can of gas? Figure it out, Carol!” 

Carol just stares blankly at her and you silently will her to do anything but stand there. Even you could tell her that she should take a company van to go get all the contestants from the limo. Problem solved. 

“Look, Carol,” Agatha sighs and moves her black glasses from her face to resting on the top of her head. You want to look away, knowing what’s coming, but you can’t. “This isn’t going to work if I have to hold your hand. You’ve been here for what? Three years now? I need you to be a producer, not a child who needs a babysitter. Get out. You’re fired.” 

Carol splutters out something in disbelief, but Agatha is already walking away and waving her hand to get your attention. As if you aren’t always watching her.

“Get me a coffee,” she says, tone still laced with some exasperation and you purse your lips before running to get her one. 

Agatha Harkness, the executive producer for the reality dating show, Hexed Hearts, is known for her ruthless and no-nonsense style of leadership. She practically wrote the book on manipulation and knows exactly how to get anyone to do whatever she wants. 

You heard that once on the show, seven of the contestants got into a literal fist fight all because Agatha suggested that the suitor liked women who weren’t afraid to go for what they wanted. 

It’s honestly inspiring. 

You’ve been a personal assistant for the show for two years, going into your third now.

The first season you worked here, it was a total bust. Agatha had thought it would be a good idea to do a Winter Wonderland, except have it set in Greenland where it was actually freezing. It was the first time a season had ever taken place not at the mansion in California, where it would’ve been practical and budget-friendly and fake snow definitely would’ve been better than real snow. 

You still have calluses from all the shoveling you had to do and three of the contestants got hypothermia because Agatha insisted that they take off their parkas and film in bikinis in the below zero temperature. 

“It’s just for like two seconds,” she had said. “Think of the ratings for the hard nipples. People will go wild.” 

Luckily she had the foresight to put in their contracts that they couldn’t sue due to weather-sustained injuries, and the girls were completely fine. The network told her that the show could never be filmed anywhere but the mansion ever again. 

So the next season, Agatha had to get creative—and she did. Season Twelve: Double Trouble.

One suitress. Sixteen sets of twins. 

No one could tell anyone apart. The suitress called her date by his brother’s name more often than not. Brothers got into fights with each other. Some of them leaned more into it than others; you remember one of the producers asking you to go get Frank and finding him fucking the suitress, Lilith, while she gave his twin brother a blowjob. 

Twitter had a field day after that was revealed—once again, a well placed tip to the rest of the men courtesy of Agatha led to a huge blow up on set, and even better, on camera. 

As the season went on, it became clear that Lilith had a favorite, Adam. And no one was more upset about this than Adam’s twin brother, who decided that he would lock Adam in the bedroom closet and impersonate him. 

It took about a week before anyone noticed and that week’s episode had the highest rating in seven years. 

Growing up, you never cared for reality television, always finding it trashy and immature, but behind the scenes, there is so much more to what meets the eye. You were never able to tell how much of it was real or scripted. 

Almost none of it is scripted. But most, if not all, is orchestrated. 

Producers stir the pot, use clips that paint the contestants a certain way, exploit and mold however they want—whatever it takes to get the best ratings for the network. Your end goal is to become one, and you might have the perfect opportunity right now, with Carol fired.

This year, Agatha decided that she wanted to have the first season of reality television that was all queer women. The network had been incredibly reluctant to greenlight the idea, but when Agatha revealed that she had gotten Rio Vidal to sign on to be the suitress, they couldn’t say no. 

Rio Vidal, the heiress to the Vidal Oil Company, is known for her bad-boy reputation and the trail of broken hearts she leaves in her path. She desperately needs to work on her public image before taking over the company, so her parents paid a fortune to get her on the show. Even you had to admit she was easy on the eyes so you figured there would be no problem getting thirty-two women to fall in love with her. 

The problem would be getting her to pick one. You have no doubt that this season is going to be filled with scandal after scandal, which brings in the best ratings. 

Your phone starts to buzz and you swear, setting down the full cup of coffee to pull it out of your pocket. You roll your eyes—it’s your mom. 

“Hey, mom, I can’t really talk right now,” you say, raising it to your ear quickly. “Is something wrong?” 

She sighs heavily. “Just wanted to check in on my only daughter, I didn’t realize that was a crime.” 

Of course she’s pulling that card. “It’s not, mom, it’s just not really a great time, we’re about to start shooting.” 

“Still on that show?” She makes a disapproving sound, even though she knows full-well that you are indeed still working for Hexed Hearts. “When are you going to get a real job? I mean, a personal assistant? Sweetie, you are so much better than that, and so much better than reality TV in general. Why don’t I give my friend at the school a call, see if she can—” 

“Got to go, mom, talk to you later,” you interrupt abruptly before furiously pressing the disconnect button and shoving your phone back into your pocket after putting it on silent. Taking a deep breath, you unclench your fists and pick up the cup of coffee. 

It always goes that way with your mom. It feels like no matter what you do, she’s never satisfied with anything. 

“Has someone rescued limo three yet?” Agatha yells from inside her office and your hand holding her cup jolts, spilling burning liquid on your skin. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing some napkins and wincing. 

One of the producers, Marie, jogs to Agatha's door to open it slightly. “Hey, yeah, Alice went to go get them. They should be here in about ten minutes. We’ve got Rio outside by the gates with Billy, the other vans are outside, we’re thinking we just go in order of one, two, four, and then hopefully three should be here by then.” 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, we just need to get all the introductions done by midnight so we can get about six hours of B-roll and interviews before the sun rises,” Agatha says dismissively and you awkwardly hover behind Marie, who’s still blocking the entrance to her office. “Is there something else?” 

Marie shifts and looks down at her feet. “Um, who do you want to take over Carol’s girls? I’m not sure Alice, Lilia, and I can take anymore. I can call Carol though, I don’t even think she’s left—” 

“Oh, fuck that,” Agatha snaps. Each producer gets eight contestants to handle, but usually by the end of the first night, they only have four to six left, given how well they produce their people. “Do not call Carol. I’ll figure it out. Where is my coffee?”

“I have it,” you say, finally pushing past Marie and walking to set it down on her desk. Agatha is dressed in a maroon pantsuit, her hair in a bun held together by two pens. She’s scribbling on a piece of paper while glancing between her open laptop screen and the television on the wall. You pause to look at what she’s watching. 

Agatha’s own TV inside her office are directly connected to the cameras that show Rio getting some last minute touch ups on hair and makeup. She’s wearing an earthy green dress that pairs nicely with her flawless pale skin and dark hair that falls a little past her shoulders. Her lipstick is a muted pink and she has on minimal eyeliner that accentuates her hazel eyes. 

“What do you think?” Agatha asks, watching you carefully. 

You look at her, surprised. It’s not often she asks you for your opinion. “I think she’s good, yeah. Everyone will be all over her.”

Agatha nods, musing on it. “I think you’re right. I’m going to need you to do a bit more around here tonight, with Carol gone. I’m going to have to step in and take over her eight so I need you near me at all times, ready to do whatever I need.” 

“Well, I mean…” you trail off. Are you really about to do this? Agatha raises an eyebrow at you, urging you on, and you swallow roughly. “I could produce.” 

She laughs like she’s actually taken aback. “Honey, are you asking me for a promotion right now? The body isn’t even cold yet—Carol hasn’t even left the building!” She leans back in her chair and her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek while she regards you with something akin to amusement. “Well, let’s hear your pitch.” 

You take a deep breath. “This is my third year on this show now, and I’ve really learned a lot about what goes on behind the scenes and I have ideas for this season. I’ve watched the way you manipulate and create situations and get results, and I know I can do it too. I’m a hard worker, I’m responsible, I know how to work with these people—I know people. I understand what they want, how they think, how to get them to think that they want something. I really want this job, Agatha, and I know I can do it.” 

“Bravo, honey,” she says with a hint of sarcasm and slowly claps. Your stomach squirms under her scrutinizing gaze. “How long have you been practicing that little speech?” 

You shrug and take a sudden interest in your shoes. 

“How badly do you want this?” 

Brows furrowing, you meet her blue eyes again. Is she asking what you would do for it? “I want it really badly, I mean, I’ll get on my knees and—”

“Sleeping your way to the top?” she coos condescendingly and your cheeks heat up, maybe at the implication that she’d think you would do that, but also at the thought of sleeping with her. “That’s so ten years ago of you.”

“—beg. I’d get on my knees and beg,” you finish and wipe your palms on your jeans. This is not going the way you wanted, and now you’re probably going to be fired. You can only imagine what your mom is going to say. 

But Agatha jerks her head to the bulletin boards with thirty-three headshots on it: Rio and the contestants. There’s a few bullet points written under each picture with the most important information about them. You made flashcards out of them once the roster was released so you could memorize them all. 

“You said you have ideas?” Agatha prompts. 

You could go through this in your sleep so you walk over to the boards and point at Rio. “Our suitress is a player, there’s no way around that. So we get her to play. She keeps five, six people on her line at all times, head over heels, but Rio’s telling them all the same thing: ‘Oh, baby, can’t wait to take you home to share my fortune with; whatever you want? It’s yours. You’re so perfect.’ Audiences can’t decide if they love or hate her, because she’s so charming.” 

Agatha doesn’t look impressed. “That’s the whole point of the show.”

It doesn’t even falter you. “Yes, but while Rio is off doing that, we introduce another lead. Someone much more real, someone who isn’t just looking at everyone as toys. Helen Troywick.” You point at the picture of the blonde with warm brown eyes and a crooked smile. “Pretty in an unsuspecting way, works with animals, donates to charity. Only been in one relationship her whole life.” 

“A foil to our bad boy,” Agatha says, nodding like she sees the vision. “You want Helen to—what? Steal the other contestants?” 

“I think a main part of this season could be the rivalry between Rio and Helen. Rio sees how authentic Helen is, and how easily she can win over everyone, so Rio has to change. Or, they get into a big fight. Either way, it’s a win for America.” 

“And what happens if Rio just eliminates her?” 

You shake your head. “She won’t. Because Helen is the one who’s going to win. Think about it. Helen is the perfect girl to help rehash your image, the perfect girl to bring home to mommy and daddy to get their approval. Rio won’t cut her because she knows that she needs her. And if she doesn’t see that, then we just have to make sure we do.” 

Agatha’s eyes narrow. “You know, I’m almost impressed, honey. And villains?” 

Every good season of reality television needs someone to root against. “I’ve picked out a few, but I think Wanda Maximoff could be a good one, or Cassandra Infidelis. Wanda is the token milf with twins, control freak, perfectionist but I sense some anger under all that. Start to take away her control? I bet she goes crazy. And Cassandra has had a lot of issues in her past so I don’t think it would be too hard to get her to the point where she snaps.” 

She chews on her bottom lip and then stands up out of her chair and walks over until she’s a foot in front of you. You’re completely frozen to the ground and you can feel her hot breath on your lips. 

It takes everything in you not to look at her mouth. 

“I can do it,” you whisper. “I know I don’t have any experience, but I want to learn. I want you to teach me—produce me.”

Agatha smirks knowingly and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Well done, honey. Looks like you just got yourself a promotion. Now get out there and do everything I say, exactly how I say.” 

“I will, I promise.” Tension crackles between you and electricity pulses under your skin. It feels like you just got everything you wanted while simultaneously selling your soul to the devil. 

Her voice lowers and her eyes rake over your body with a heat in them. “I’ll make something out of you, don’t worry.” 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs

[evermoreness]

the bet | sirius black

pairing: sirius black x reader

summary: james bets sirius can't make you fall in love with him and now sirius is all over you.

masterlist

It started, like most ridiculous things in Sirius Black’s life, because of James Potter.

The Gryffindor common room was loud that evening, filled with students playing Wizard’s Chess, finishing last-minute essays, or just causing trouble. Sirius lounged on the couch, legs stretched over the armrest, twirling his wand between his fingers as he half-listened to James and Peter argue about Quidditch formations.

And then you laughed.

Not at him—though that wouldn’t have been surprising—but across the room, sitting with Marlene and Lily, head thrown back, eyes sparkling with mischief. Sirius had heard you laugh plenty of times, but for some reason, this one caught his attention. Maybe it was because of how easily you laughed, how effortlessly you filled the space around you with warmth and energy.

James, ever perceptive (and ever annoying), caught the way Sirius was looking at you and smirked.

“Mate,” he said, nudging Sirius’s boot off the couch. “You’re staring.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and sat up properly. “Please. I don’t stare—people hope I’ll stare.”

Peter snorted. “Yeah, alright.”

James leaned back in his chair, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You know,” he mused, “I don’t think Y/n ever actually fallen for your charms.”

Sirius scoffed, placing a hand on his chest like he’d just been gravely insulted. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, she flirts with you,” James continued, as if this wasn’t a direct attack on Sirius’s entire identity, “but she flirts with everyone. She’s probably the only girl at Hogwarts who hasn’t fallen for your act.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, turning his attention back to you. You were a flirt—always had been. And you were good at it too, quick-witted and confident, never the type to get flustered. He’d flirted with you plenty of times, and you always matched him, grin for grin, quip for quip. But James was right—you never blushed, never got nervous, never gave him that look most girls did when he turned on the charm.

It was… interesting.

And Sirius Black loved a challenge.

“You’re saying,” Sirius said slowly, “that if I actually tried, she wouldn’t fall for me?”

James grinned. “I’m saying you can’t do it.”

Remus, who had been reading by the fire (and wisely staying out of this nonsense), sighed. “Here we go.”

Peter perked up. “Ooh, is this a bet?”

Sirius smirked. “It is now.”

James sat up straighter, eyes gleaming. “Alright then, Black. Let’s make it official. I bet you—” he paused for effect, “—ten Galleons that you can’t make her fall for you.”

Sirius raised a brow. “Ten? That’s all?”

James laughed. “Alright, big shot, fifteen.”

“Twenty.”

“You want to lose money that badly?”

Sirius leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, expression downright smug. “Oh, I never lose.”

Remus groaned. “This is a terrible idea.”

James ignored him. “Alright, fine. Twenty Galleons says she will never fall for you.”

Sirius held out a hand. James shook it. The deal was made.

Peter clapped his hands together. “Ooooh, this is gonna be fun.”

Remus muttered, “This is going to end in disaster.”

Sirius leaned back, stretching lazily, confidence radiating off him. “Just you lot wait. By the end of the month, she will be smitten.”

“Sure, mate,” James said, shaking his head. “Sure.”

Across the room, you turned slightly, catching Sirius’s gaze. Your eyes met his, and instead of looking away, you held his stare, tilting your head slightly as if daring him to make a move.

And just to be infuriating, you gave him a wink.

Sirius grinned.

This was going to be fun.

The game begins

Sirius Black was a man on a mission.

The very next morning, he strolled into the Great Hall like he owned the place—not an uncommon occurrence. But today, his target wasn’t just looking devastatingly handsome or stealing toast off James’s plate. No, today was about you.

You were sitting with Marlene and Lily, sipping your coffee and looking far too amused for someone who had barely started the day. The moment Sirius approached, Marlene smirked knowingly.

“Uh-oh,” she muttered. “Brace yourself.”

You looked up just as Sirius slid into the seat beside you, his signature smirk firmly in place. “Morning, love,” he drawled, reaching out and plucking a piece of bacon from your plate.

You raised an eyebrow but let him take it. “Flirting before I’ve had my coffee? Bold move, Black.”

Sirius grinned. “I figured I should start early. Give you the whole day to think about how devastatingly charming I am.”

You took a slow sip of coffee, holding eye contact. Then, deadpan: “Who are you again?”

Marlene cackled.

Lily snorted into her pumpkin juice.

But Sirius? He only grinned wider. “Ah, playing hard to get, are we? Don’t worry, love. I love a challenge.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “Do you, now?”

Sirius leaned in ever so slightly. “Mmm. And something tells me you do too.”

You pretended to consider this. “That’s true. But here’s the thing—I’m very good at it.”

Sirius chuckled. Oh, this is going to be interesting.

Since then, it was suspicious how often Sirius Black seemed to run into you that week.

He was always around, flirting, teasing, and honestly just trying to get your attention somehow. It was becoming a very odd habit to be around him that much.

It's been a few days now, and it seemed Sirius wasn't going to back down on whatever the plan he had in his head.

Try harder.

The Hogwarts library was your sanctuary. A place of peace, quiet, and most importantly, a place without distractions. Better saying, a place without Sirius Black.

At least, that was the idea.

Because of course, when you were finally alone, enjoying the rare bliss of uninterrupted reading, a shadow loomed over your book, and with it, his voice.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

You sighed without looking up. “This is a library, Sirius. People come here to study.”

Sirius Black had a very particular way of invading one’s personal space. Instead of just standing in front of your table like a normal person, he leaned forward, resting his elbows against the wood, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him.

“Yes, well,” he mused, “I figured you might be lonely.”

You finally lifted your gaze, unimpressed. “Oh, how thoughtful. And totally not an excuse to bother me.”

Sirius let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest like you had physically harmed him. “You wound me.”

You smirked. “Not yet, but if you keep talking, I might.”

His grin widened. “Feisty. I like it.”

“You like everything.”

“No, just you.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

Sirius noticed.

He noticed everything.

And like the menace he was, he took that as an invitation.

With a lazy confidence that only he could pull off, he slid into the chair across from you, propping his chin on one hand. “So, what are we reading today?”

We. As if he was included in this activity.

You sighed, snapping your book shut with an audible thud. “Sirius, don’t you have somewhere else to be? Like, I don’t know, bothering James? Tormenting Snape? Staring at yourself in a mirror?”

“Multitasking, love.” He winked. “Besides, I like this game much better.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What game?”

“The one where I try to get you to fall for me.” He smirked. “And you pretend you’re not already madly in love.”

You let out a short laugh. “Oh, that’s what this is?”

Sirius tapped his fingers against the table. “Mmm, seems that way, doesn’t it?”

You leaned forward slightly, resting your arms on the wood between you. “I hate to break it to you, Black, but if this is your grand seduction plan, I’d give it a solid four out of ten.”

Sirius clutched his heart again, even more dramatically than before. “Four?! That’s a crime.”

“Would’ve been a three, but I added an extra point for effort.”

He narrowed his eyes, studying you. “You’re toying with me.”

You smirked. “What gave it away?”

Sirius huffed, but the grin never left his lips. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he examined you. His eyes flickered between yours, as if searching for a weak spot.

Then, he smiled.

That slow, dangerous, oh no kind of smile.

“Alright, then,” he mused, tilting his head. “I’ll just have to try harder.”

You arched an eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously like a challenge.”

“Maybe it is.”

Your fingers tapped against your book thoughtfully. “So what happens if you lose?”

Sirius grinned. “I never lose.”

You leaned in slightly, dropping your voice to a whisper. “Sounds like someone’s overconfident.”

Sirius mirrored your movement, his voice dropping to match yours. “Sounds like someone’s tempted.”

You held his gaze for a long, tense moment, a silent battle of wills.

Determined not to let him win this round, you leaned in too, mirroring his movement, until your faces were barely inches apart.

“You know what, Sirius?” you whispered.

His smirk widened. “What, love?”

You reached forward, grabbed your book—and snapped it shut in his face.

Sirius jerked back, startled, blinking rapidly.

“Merlin’s bloody beard, woman!” Sirius exclaimed, rubbing his forehead. “That was uncalled for!”

You leaned back in your chair, casually flipping your book open again. “No, invading my personal space was uncalled for.”

Sirius groaned dramatically, slumping in his chair. “You are absolutely infuriating.”

“You love it,” you said sweetly.

Sirius huffed, but there was no mistaking the way his lips curled up. “One day, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and full of promise. “One day, you’re going to beg me to kiss you.”

You scoffed, flipping a page. “Highly unlikely.”

Sirius just smirked, standing up and giving you a mock salute. “We’ll see.”

And with that, he turned and sauntered out of the library, leaving you staring after him, suddenly very aware of the warmth lingering on your face.

The retaliation.

It's been weeks now.

Weeks.

And Sirius was still all over you.

At this point, it was clear that Sirius Black had declared war.

Your response to that? Oh, he had no idea who he was messing with.

Because if Sirius Black wanted to play this game, you were going to make damn sure he suffered for it.

So, the next time you saw him in the corridor—leaning lazily against the wall, that insufferable grin already in place—you stopped, tilted your head, and gave him a slow, deliberate once-over.

Sirius blinked, caught slightly off guard. But only for a second.

Then, he smirked, straightening up. “See something you like, sweetheart?”

You let the silence drag out, letting his own arrogance build up. Then, just as his smirk widened—

You hummed, tapping your chin. “Hmm. Almost.”

Then, with a slow, infuriatingly confident wink, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Sirius stood frozen in place.

For a solid ten seconds.

You could feel his confusion radiating behind you, the absolute whiplash of thinking he had the upper hand, only to be completely blindsided.

James, who had just walked up behind Sirius, witnessed the entire thing. He clapped Sirius on the back with a grin. “Mate.”

Sirius didn’t even turn.

James smirked. “I think you just got Sirius’d.”

Sirius finally blinked, coming back to himself. He turned to James, looking betrayed. “That—that’s not a thing.”

James snorted. “It definitely is now.”

Sirius turned back toward the hallway you had disappeared down, running a hand through his hair, still processing.

You almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

But then you heard his voice, muttering to himself as you rounded the corner—

“Bloody hell.”

And that?

That was exactly the reaction you wanted.

The shift.

The Gryffindor common room was warm with the crackling fire, but the corridors leading to it were anything but. The stone walls seemed to absorb every bit of warmth, leaving you slightly chilled as you walked back from the Prefect’s meeting. It had run longer than expected—something about Filch catching a group of first-years trying to hex Mrs. Norris (which, honestly, you would have given them extra House points for).

As you turned the last corner, you spotted him.

Sirius Black, leaning against the wall right outside the common room entrance, looking for all the world like he was posing for a magazine cover. His arms were crossed over his chest, one foot propped against the stone, his black hair perfectly tousled in that effortlessly charming way that drove half the school mad.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously waiting for me?”

Sirius smirked. “What makes you think I wasn’t just casually standing here, looking incredibly handsome?”

You sighed, exasperated but amused. “Because you’re Sirius Black. And Sirius Black doesn’t do casual.”

Sirius pushed off the wall, stepping in front of you, blocking your way into the common room. “Guilty as charged,” he admitted. “Though, in my defense, you do make it very hard to resist waiting around just to see you.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “That was almost sweet.”

He grinned. “Almost?”

“Yes, almost. But then I remembered you say this kind of thing to everyone.”

Sirius gasped dramatically. “Now that’s just slander. I’d never be this dedicated to anyone else.”

“Oh, dedicated now, are we?” you teased.

He stepped closer, closing some of the space between you, his smirk never fading. “You have noticed, haven’t you?”

Your smirk mirrored his, refusing to back down. “Oh, I’ve noticed.” You leaned in just a fraction. “I just don’t think it’s working.”

Sirius let out a soft laugh, but there was something in his expression—something unreadable, something a little too amused, a little too confident. “Oh, love,” he murmured, voice lower now, teasing but laced with something else. “You say that like you’re not enjoying every second of it.”

Your breath caught—just for a moment.

Not because he was right (which he wasn’t, obviously), but because of how close he suddenly was. The playful flirting had been going on for weeks now, but this? This was new.

You weren’t about to let him win, though.

With slow deliberation, you reached up and threaded your fingers through his hair, twirling a loose strand between your fingers. “Lovely hair,” you mused, watching his expression closely. “Shame if someone—oh, I don’t know—hexed it green.”

Sirius stilled.

It was brief, barely a second, but you felt it—the way his breath hitched just slightly, the way his smirk faltered for half a heartbeat before he recovered.

Then, he exhaled a soft laugh. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You grinned. “Try me.”

Sirius blinked, clearly caught off guard.

Then, he laughed. A real, genuine laugh, not his usual smug chuckle. “Merlin, you really are something else.”

You grinned. “Took you this long to realize?”

Sirius shook his head, still grinning. “I should be winning this, you know.”

You smirked. “Oh, you think you’re winning?”

He chuckled. “I know I am.”

“Sure, Black. Keep telling yourself that.”

His grey eyes flickered with something unreadable before he suddenly leaned in, just enough to make your heart stutter—not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him.

His voice dropped to a murmur. “You love this.”

For the first time since this ridiculous game had started, you felt your heart stutter—just for a second. He was so close, his voice quieter than usual, like this moment wasn’t just another round of flirting.

You kept your cool, refusing to step back. “Of course I do,” you whispered. “I love watching you try so hard.”

His smirk widened. “Oh, darling. I’m not even trying yet.”

That was it. That was the moment you felt it.

The shift.

You weren’t sure who moved first. Maybe it was him, leaning in just enough to blur the lines of your usual banter. Maybe it was you, tilting your head slightly, eyes locked with his, breath caught somewhere between another teasing remark and something… else.

Whatever it was, the air between you shifted.

Sirius had been relentless these past few weeks, flirting with you at every opportunity, always pushing, always testing. But you had been just as ruthless—flirting back, laughing at his attempts, making sure he never got the reaction he was aiming for. It was a game, a fun one, a ridiculous one.

But now?

Now, you weren’t entirely sure what it was anymore.

You still had your fingers in his hair, twirling a strand between them as if you weren’t hyper-aware of the way he was looking at you. Sirius wasn’t just smirking now—his usual cocky, easy-going expression had melted into something slower, something almost… amused. Like he was watching you figure something out in real time.

His voice was soft, but there was no missing the amusement in it. “You’re staring, love.”

You scoffed, shaking off whatever that moment was. “So are you.”

“Course I am.” He grinned, tilting his head. “You are stunning.”

You rolled your eyes, letting go of his hair and taking a small step back—just enough to clear your head. “You’re insufferable.”

Sirius grinned. “And yet, here you are, still standing in front of me. Fascinating.”

You huffed a laugh. “I’m only here because you’re blocking the entrance.”

“Oh?” He glanced behind him, at the portrait hole, then back at you. “Say please, and I might move.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’d rather hex you.”

Sirius gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “Violence? So soon in our courtship?”

You groaned, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Move, Black.”

He grinned but didn’t budge. Instead, he leaned slightly closer again, grey eyes twinkling with mischief. “Admit it.”

You crossed your arms. “Admit what?”

“That I make your heart race.”

You blinked. Oh, he was getting bold now.

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Hmmm… I do get a strange reaction around you.”

Sirius smirked. “Do you now?”

You nodded solemnly. “Yes. It’s called secondhand embarrassment.”

Sirius barked a laugh. “Merlin, you love giving me a hard time, don’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

He studied you for a second, like he was debating his next move, and then—because he was Sirius Black—he smirked again and leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice to something almost dangerous.

“Don’t worry, love,” he murmured, “I like it rough.”

For the first time, you felt your brain short-circuit.

It was barely noticeable—the fraction of a second it took you to process what he had just said—but Sirius caught it. His smirk widened ever so slightly, his eyes flickering with triumph.

Oh, hell no.

You refused to give him the satisfaction.

So you did the only logical thing: you reached out, grabbed his tie (because of course Sirius Black wore his tie loose and messy), and yanked.

Sirius stumbled forward, his hands flying up instinctively to catch himself on either side of you, palms pressing against the wall just behind your shoulders. He was close now—closer than before, his face mere inches from yours.

His smirk faltered.

Your grip on his tie tightened. “Careful, Black,” you whispered, voice dripping with amusement. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Sirius exhaled a laugh, but it wasn’t as confident as before. His gaze flickered to your lips—just briefly, just enough for you to notice.

And then, just as quickly, he pulled back, his usual grin snapping back into place. “Well,” he said, voice a little too casual, “this has been fun.”

You let go of his tie, smoothing it down like you hadn’t just pulled him into your trap. “Oh, so much fun.”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, clearing his throat. “Well then. I suppose I should let you get inside before you freeze to death out here.”

You hummed. “How thoughtful of you.”

He stepped aside, finally moving out of the way, and gestured dramatically to the portrait hole. “After you, my dear.”

You walked past him, but just before stepping inside, you turned back slightly, smirking. “Try harder next time, Black.”

Sirius chuckled, watching as you disappeared into the common room.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, he realized—he was the one who needed to be careful.

Because this?

This wasn’t a game anymore.

The realization.

If someone had told Sirius Black a month ago that he’d be spending every single day trying to fluster a girl and failing miserably, he would’ve laughed in their face.

If they had told him that, in the process, he’d start genuinely enjoying her company instead of just playing around? That he’d actually start looking forward to seeing her, not just for the game but because… he liked being around her?

He would’ve called them a liar.

But here he was.

You had barely stepped into the classroom when you noticed something was off.

Your usual seat, the one you had claimed since the start of the year, was occupied.

And not by just anyone.

Sirius Black sat in your chair, lounging as if he owned the place, a smug smirk firmly in place.

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re in my spot.”

Sirius stretched lazily, arms behind his head. “Oh? Didn’t see your name on it.”

You huffed, placing a hand on your hip. “Move.”

His grin widened. “Make me.”

Oh, he wanted this.

He was practically begging for you to retaliate, thinking he had the upper hand, that he controlled this game.

Well.

He was about to learn exactly why you were a worthy opponent.

You gave him an innocent smile, stepping forward slowly. He watched you, intrigued, likely expecting you to shove him out of the chair or hit him with a sarcastic remark.

Instead, you simply… sat down.

Right in his lap.

His brain, for the first time in his entire existence, short-circuited.

Sirius froze.

James, sitting across from the both of you, choked violently on his own spit.

Peter dropped his quill.

Remus barely glanced up from his book, but there was a very distinct twitch of his lips.

“Comfortable, love?” Sirius finally managed, voice noticeably strained.

You made a show of shifting slightly, settling into place, “Quite.”

Sirius swallowed. Hard.

James rolled his eyes. “You two are actually unbearable.”

You smirked. “What’s wrong, Potter? Can’t handle a little friendly seating arrangement?”

James deadpanned. “That is not a ‘friendly’ anything.”

Sirius, still struggling to recover, cleared his throat. His hands had instinctively settled on your waist when you sat down, and it seemed he just now realized it because they suddenly twitched, as if unsure whether to move away or pull you closer.

You weren’t giving him a single second to recover.

Tilting your head slightly, you turned your head back at him, bringing your lips dangerously close to his ear. “What’s the matter, Black?” you purred. “Speechless?”

Sirius inhaled sharply, gripping your waist just slightly in retaliation. “You wish,” he muttered back, his breath warm against your skin.

James slammed his hands on the desk. “I swear, if you two start shagging right now, I’m dropping out.”

Peter just covered his eyes. “I can’t watch this.”

Remus, without looking up, turned a page in his book. “Oh, please. They’ve been shagging with their eyes for months.”

Sirius barked out a laugh, but you could feel how tense he was under you. You weren’t supposed to be this bold. You were supposed to roll your eyes and huff at him, not actually play along.

You smiled sweetly. “You alright, darling? You seem a bit… tense.”

Sirius swallowed again, eyes locked onto yours, something sharp and dark flickering in them. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m more than alright.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” James groaned, dramatically slumping onto the desk.

Peter still had his hands over his eyes, mumbling something about his innocence being shattered.

Remus just turned another page, unimpressed. “If you lot are done providing the rest of us with free entertainment, I’d like to get through at least one class today without wanting to fling myself into the Black Lake.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, trying to act as if this wasn’t affecting him in the slightest. “I hope you realize you’ve just started something you can’t finish, love.”

You hummed, your face still turned to his, almost touching. “Oh, I always finish what I start, Black.”

Sirius, determined not to be outdone, tightened his grip on your waist ever so slightly, shifting just enough to remind you of where exactly you were sitting. His lips curled into a devilish grin as he leaned in slightly.

Peter peeked through his fingers at you and Sirius, then promptly covered his eyes again. “Nope. Still too much.”

“Careful, love,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “You might actually start liking it here.”

And that was when Professor Slughorn walked in.

“Ah, good morning, my dear students!” Slughorn’s voice boomed through the classroom, cheerful and oblivious.

You and Sirius froze.

James’ eyes widened. “Oh, this is better than detention—”

Before he could even finish that sentence, you had launched yourself out of Sirius’s lap so quickly it was like you’d Apparated.

Sirius, whose hands had still been on your waist, was left gripping air, looking momentarily lost before hastily readjusting his posture, trying to appear as if nothing had happened.

You were already in the seat beside him, perfectly composed, as if you hadn’t just been sprawled across his lap like a queen on her throne.

Slughorn, still cheerfully setting down his books, was thankfully none the wiser.

“This isn’t over” Sirius mumbled.

You smirked, pretending to focus on your textbook. “I’d be disappointed if it was.”

Something more?

Sirius Black did not get nervous. He did not overthink. He did not, under any circumstances, lose control of his own game.

And yet—

Ever since that moment in the charms classroom, ever since the way she had looked at him, the way she brought him closer by his tie, her face barely brushed against his—

He was a mess.

He kept telling himself it was nothing. A fluke. Just a moment of bad timing. He had spent weeks flirting with you, teasing you, pushing your buttons, waiting for that one moment where you would crack—where you would get flustered, where you would lose.

But now?

Now he wasn’t even sure what the prize was anymore.

It started at breakfast.

He had taken his usual seat beside James, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. “Morning, peasants,” he greeted, swiping a piece of toast off James’ plate.

“Morning, git,” James shot back, snatching the toast back.

Sirius ignored him, gaze already drifting down the table—searching, waiting—

And there you were.

You were laughing at something Lily had said, your head thrown back slightly, eyes crinkled with amusement. The way you smiled—the way you always did that little thing where you bit your lip slightly when you were trying to suppress a laugh—

Sirius inhaled sharply and immediately looked away.

James, who had never in his life missed an opportunity to be annoying, noticed.

James narrowed his eyes. “What was that?”

Sirius took a bite of his toast. “What was what?”

“That.” James wiggled his eyebrows. “You looked at her like—like—”

“Like he wants to marry her,” Peter supplied unhelpfully.

Sirius choked on his toast.

James gasped. “Oh my god.”

Remus, who had been listening from across the table, sighed. “Please don’t start.”

James pointed his fork at Sirius. “You like her.”

Sirius, still recovering from his near-death experience, wiped his mouth and glared. “I do not.”

James grinned. “You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You so do.”

“I—” Sirius turned back toward you, ready to prove a point, ready to do something to remind himself that this was just a game—

And, of course, you were already watching him.

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching with amusement. Busted.

Sirius swallowed hard. “Shut up, Potter.”

James cackled.

The day went on as always. Classes, quidditch practice, pranks.

At night, the castle was quiet, the corridors nearly empty as Sirius found himself walking beside you after curfew.

It had been an accident, really—one of those oh, you’re here too? kind of moments. You would both been sneaking back to the dorms after separate misadventures and had somehow fallen into step beside each other.

You weren’t even teasing anymore. Not really. Just talking.

And Merlin help him, Sirius liked it.

He liked the way your voice softened when you talked about things you loved. He liked the way you sighed dramatically every time he said something mildly ridiculous. He liked the way you walked—confident, effortless, like she owned every damn corridor of this castle.

And he liked—

Oh.

Oh shit.

“Sirius?”

He blinked. “Hmm?”

You studied him for a moment, eyes glinting with curiosity. “You okay? You looked like you were having an existential crisis just now.”

He scoffed. “Please, I don’t do existential crises.”

You smirked. “You sure? Because you definitely looked like you were having a moment.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I was just… thinking.”

You gasped dramatically. “Thinking? You?”

He huffed a laugh. “You’re hilarious.”

“I know.”

There was a pause—a comfortable, easy silence.

And then you nudged him lightly with your shoulder. “You never answered.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Answered what?”

“What you were thinking about.”

His stomach flipped.

He could lie. He should lie.

But instead, he just—

He looked at you.

And damn it all, he knew.

He had known for a while.

Sirius cleared his throat, stalling. “Oh, you know. Just deep, profound thoughts about life and the mysteries of the universe.”

You shot him a knowing look. “Uh-huh. And by that, you mean?”

He smirked, hands tucking into his pockets. “Why the bloody hell Filch still uses oil lamps when we have lumos.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed, shaking your head. “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant, Black. Truly, your intellect knows no bounds.”

“Glad you noticed,” he quipped, nudging you back lightly.

And then it happened again—that lull. That moment of easy silence that should have been awkward but wasn’t. It was almost… nice.

Because you were watching him—really watching him—with those knowing eyes of yours. And maybe he was imagining it, but your usual teasing smirk wasn’t there. Instead, there was something softer, something curious, like you were actually interested in his answer.

Sirius hated it.

Because it meant something had changed.

He wasn’t supposed to enjoy your company like this. He wasn’t supposed to find it fun to just walk and talk with you without trying to one-up each other. He wasn’t supposed to feel his chest tighten slightly when you laughed at something genuine he said, rather than some over-the-top flirtation.

Merlin’s bloody beard, he was in trouble.

And he definitely wasn’t supposed to notice the way the moonlight caught in your hair, or how your eyes sparkled when you were amused, or how—

“You’re doing it again,” you observed, voice teasing but gentle.

Sirius blinked, forcing himself back to reality. “Doing what?”

“Thinking too hard,” you said, nudging him again. “That’s twice in one night. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, maybe a little too quickly.

Before Sirius could even attempt to come up with something—something witty, something that would push this moment back into the realm of teasing where it was safe—the sharp sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor.

They both froze.

Filch.

Sirius grabbed her wrist without thinking, tugging you into the nearest alcove. You barely had time to press yourselves against the stone wall before Filch’s lamp light flickered against the opposite wall, his grumbling voice growing louder.

Sirius could feel your breath against his neck, warm and too close. You were right there, pressed against him, your body tucked between his and the cold castle wall, and Merlin’s bloody beard, this was not helping his already spiraling thoughts.

You shifted slightly, just enough to glance at him, your lips dangerously close to his jaw. “Well, this is cozy,” you whispered.

Sirius huffed a quiet laugh, though his heart was hammering. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You smirked, your voice low, teasing. “Maybe.”

Filch’s footsteps paused just outside the alcove.

Sirius didn’t breathe.

Neither did you.

For a moment, it was just the sound of Filch’s muttering, the flicker of the lamp light, the distant creak of the castle settling.

Then, mercifully, the footsteps started moving again, fading into the distance.

You exhaled slowly. “That was close.”

Sirius turned his head slightly, the movement bringing his lips just a fraction closer to yours. “Too close,” he murmured.

You were looking at him now, your eyes catching the faint glow of the lantern light. There was something different in them—something Sirius couldn’t quite place, but felt deep in his chest.

You weren't smirking anymore.

And neither was he.

The air between you shifted.

Your gaze flickered to his lips—so fast he might have imagined it, but Merlin, he hoped he didn’t.

His grip on your waist tightened slightly, just for a second. He could lean in. He could close the space. He could—

Footsteps again.

You jumped apart.

This time, it was Peeves, floating lazily through the corridor, humming some dreadful little tune to himself.

Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to gather himself. When he turned back to you, you were watching him with an unreadable expression.

Then, because you were you, you smirked.

“Almost had a moment there, Black.”

Sirius, still feeling the ghost of her warmth against him, forced a grin. “You wish.”

But his heart was still pounding.

Not a game anymore.

It had been building.

For weeks, maybe even months. The teasing, the flirting, the lingering glances, the casual touches that weren’t so casual anymore. Every moment had been leading up to this—an inevitable collision of something they both had tried (and failed) to ignore.

And, as it turned out, there was only so much tension two people could handle before something snapped.

You were alone in the Gryffindor common room—again. It had become your place, their quiet retreat when everyone else had gone to bed. Sirius lounged on the couch, legs stretched out, hands behind his head, exuding obnoxious levels of confidence.

You sat beside him, one knee tucked under you, arms crossed, watching him with amusement.

Sirius smirked. “You stare at me an awful lot, love. Starting to think you actually fancy me.”

You scoffed. “Please. I stare at you the same way someone stares at a particularly dumb puppy.”

Sirius gasped, hand flying to his chest. “You wound me.”

You smirked. “You deserve it.”

“Oh, come on,” he drawled, shifting so he was closer to you. “Admit it. You think I’m irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes. “You wish.”

“I know,” he shot back, winking.

And that—that damn wink—was the final straw.

Because Sirius Black was—

Infuriating.

Cocky.

Too smug for his own good.

And yet, for some stupid, ridiculous, absolutely insane reason—

You wanted him.

And you wanted him to shut up.

So, without thinking, without hesitating, without any of your usual control—

You grabbed the collar of his stupid perfectly rumpled shirt—

And kissed him.

Sirius made a muffled sound of surprise—because, to be fair, he had not expected that.

But then—

Oh.

Oh, he liked this.

Your hands were tangled in his shirt, holding him in place like you were daring him to move away (as if he ever would ). His mind short-circuited, all thoughts completely gone except for you.

And Merlin, you kissed like you meant it.

Like you had been holding back just as much as he had.

Like you knew this had been coming all along.

Sirius reacted instinctively—one hand moving to the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, savoring the way you melted into him—

And, bloody hell, he was gone.

He stared at you, breathing heavily, lips tingling, brain struggling to catch up.

When you finally pulled back (too soon, far too soon), Sirius was dazed.

You smirked. “Finally shut you up.”

Sirius blinked.

And then—

He grinned.

“Oh, love,” he murmured, voice lower than before, hands still on her waist, “if that’s how you plan to shut me up, I’m never stopping.”

You laughed—breathless, amused, maybe even a little shaken—but you didn’t move away.

Sirius tilted his head. “You liked that.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So did you.”

Sirius smirked. “Obviously.”

A pause.

A shift.

The air between you still charged, still crackling with something you could no longer ignore.

And then—

“Are we going to talk about this?” you asked, voice softer now.

Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly?” He met your gaze, something real in his expression. “I have no idea what to say.”

You hummed. “Good. Me neither.”

Another pause.

Another glance at your lips.

And then—

Sirius smirked. “Wanna do it again?”

You rolled your eyes—but then you grabbed his tie and pulled him in for another kiss.

And this time, neither of you were pretending.

You both didn’t stop at just one kiss.

Or two.

Or three.

It was impossible to stop when every touch, every kiss, every breath made you want more.

Sirius wasn’t sure how much time had passed—minutes? Hours? A lifetime?—before you finally broke apart, still tangled up in each other on the Gryffindor common room couch.

You were curled into his side, head resting against his shoulder, your fingers lazily tracing patterns over the fabric of his shirt. Sirius had one arm slung around your waist, holding you way too close for someone who was definitely not in love.

(Except he absolutely was).

The fire crackled in the silence, casting flickering shadows around the room.

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

And that was the problem.

Because now—now, you both actually had to deal with this.

Sirius was screwed.

Absolutely, entirely, undeniably screwed.

Because less than twelve hours after the greatest (and most terrifying) kiss of his life, the Marauders found out.

And they did not take it well.

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

Sirius winced as James’ very loud, very dramatic voice echoed through the dormitory.

Peter, wide-eyed, turned to Remus. “I knew something was up!”

Remus smirked knowingly. “Oh, we all knew.”

James, meanwhile, was pacing the room like a madman. “Okay, okay, hold on—” He spun on Sirius. “You kissed her?”

Sirius sighed. “Yes.”

James pointed aggressively. “And you liked it?”

Sirius scowled. “Obviously.”

Peter gasped. “Oh, no.”

Remus snorted. “Oh, yes.”

James took a deep breath, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Pads…” He grinned. “You like her.”

Sirius froze.

And that—that tiny moment of hesitation—was all they needed.

James screamed.

Peter looked shocked.

Remus looked entirely too smug.

Sirius groaned. “For Merlin’s sake, I don’t—”

James tackled him onto the bed. “YOU’RE IN LOVE.”

Sirius nearly threw his pillow at him. “I am not in love.”

Remus, sitting across from them, raised an eyebrow. “You do realize you’ve spent every waking moment with her lately, right?”

Peter nodded. “And you don’t even flirt with other girls anymore.”

James smirked. “And you look at her like she hung the bloody moon.”

Sirius scowled. “I do not.”

James leaned back, arms behind his head. “You know what? I think we should all start placing new bets.”

“Oh, do tell,” Remus said dryly.

James grinned. “I bet he admits he loves her by the end of the month.”

Sirius choked. “I don’t—”

“Oh, come on, Pads,” James interrupted. “It’s so obvious.”

Peter nodded. “You’re, like, way too soft around her now.”

Sirius scowled. “I am not—”

“You literally tucked her hair behind her ear yesterday,” Remus said flatly.

Sirius froze.

James and Peter howled with laughter.

“HE KNOWS!” James cackled. “HE KNOWS HE’S SCREWED!”

Sirius groaned, running a hand down his face. “I hate all of you.”

James smirked. “No, you hate yourself for falling so hard.”

The truth.

Sirius had never been nervous before.

Not really.

Not in a way that mattered.

But now? Now, as he stood in the dimly lit common room, watching you sit cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to say something, his heart was pounding.

Because this was it. This was the moment he decided to stop being a bloody coward and actually talk to you.

No more hiding. No more pretending.

Just… the truth.

Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "So, um… I need to tell you something."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "That sentence is never a good sign."

Sirius smirked. "Depends on your definition of ‘good,’ love."

You rolled your eyes. "Alright, Black. Out with it."

Sirius hesitated. He could still back out, still pretend nothing had changed between you—

But he didn’t want to.

He took a breath. “The whole flirting thing… the game we were playing.” He met your gaze. “It started because of a bet.”

You didn’t even blink. “I know.”

Sirius frowned. “Wait—what?”

You smirked. “I know about your little bet with James.”

Sirius groaned, rubbing his temples. “Of course you do.”

You eyes sparkled with mischief. “Did you really think James Potter could keep his mouth shut about something that entertaining?”

“Merlin,” Sirius muttered. “I should have.”

You laughed, then tilted your head. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Sirius hesitated again—but only for a second. “Because it’s not a game to me anymore.” He met your gaze, something real in his expression. “I like you. And I didn’t want this to be built on a stupid bet.”

You didn't speak immediately. Just studied him, like she were assessing him.

Sirius forced himself to keep his usual bravado at bay, to let you see him instead of the version of himself he usually put on for the world.

And then—

You smiled.

A real, genuine smile.

“Well,” you said lightly, “that’s interesting.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

You bit your lip, amusement dancing in your expression. “Because, Black… I had a bet too.”

Sirius blinked. “What?”

You grinned. “James bet me that I couldn’t make you fall for me.”

Sirius froze.

His brain short-circuited.

And then—

“I’m going to kill him.”

You cackled, clapping your hands. “Oh, this is perfect.”

Sirius groaned, sinking onto the couch beside you. “James bloody Potter.” He looked at you, half-amused, half-furious. “You knew?”

You nodded, smug. “Of course.”

Sirius threw his hands in the air. “James set us up.”

You shrugged. “And it worked.”

Sirius opened his mouth—then paused.

Because—

Oh, Merlin.

It did work.

He turned to look at you. “You actually like me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

Sirius scoffed. “Because you were supposed to be the one hopelessly falling for me.”

You smirked. “Guess James was right, then.”

Sirius groaned. “I hate him.”

You nudged him playfully. “No, you don’t.”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. I love him. But I also hate him.”

You laughed, then reached out, twining your fingers through his. “For what it’s worth,” you said softly, “I was never playing a game with you. Not really.”

Sirius’ heart stuttered.

Because this—this was real.

And it was terrifying.

And he loved it.

He turned your hand over in his, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

Sirius swallowed, something tight in his throat. “So what do we do now?”

You grinned. “Well, first—” you leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “—you kiss me again.”

Sirius smirked. “Oh, darling, I thought you’d never ask.”

And this time, when he kissed you, there was no bet, no game—

Just the both of you.

The aftermath.

It quickly became common knowledge that Sirius and his girlfriend (which still sounded insane to him) were the most ridiculous couple to ever exist.

Because while other couples held hands and whispered sweet nothings, Sirius and you—

Well.

You teased each other, you flirted relentlessly, annoyed each other and at the same time also had your soft moments.

James Potter deeply regretted his life choices.

Because here’s the thing—when he first made the bets, it was supposed to be hilarious. Watching Sirius try (and fail) to seduce someone who actually gave him a challenge? Comedy gold.

Watching you break Sirius Black’s unshakable confidence? Even better.

And then, somehow, those two idiots actually fell for each other.

Now, every single day, James had to deal with this.

James sat at the Gryffindor table, glaring across the Great Hall.

At you both.

Sirius had an arm slung lazily around your waist, smirking as you stole food from his plate like it belonged to you.

You weren't even subtle about it. You would just reach over, pluck a piece of toast from his hand, and take a bite without breaking eye contact.

Sirius, instead of protesting like a normal person, grinned and leaned in. “Careful, darling,” he murmured, voice low. “If you keep stealing from me, I might have to take something from you.”

You smirked. “Oh? And what exactly would you take, Black?”

Sirius’ smirk widened. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

You just shook your head and smiled, he reached out to take a sip of tea from your cup. It was strange how comfortable you were around each other.

You yawned, resting your head in his shoulder, the moment quickly shifting from teasing to softness. This was the kind of thing that always happened between you, you could just go from full on annoying each other to the cutest moment ever.

"Tired, baby?" Sirius whispered, his fingers caressing your hip softly. His voice soft.

You had a small smile in your lips. "It's all your fault and that horrible Muggle game"

"You were the one that kept asking for a rematch" Sirius grinned, letting a soft kiss in your hair.

James slammed his fork onto the table. “I hate this.”

You and Sirius came out of your love bubble, looking at James while trying to hold back the laughter. James was definitely regretting his life decisions.

Remus, barely looking up from his plate, hummed. “No, you don’t.”

James gestured wildly. “They’re so annoying.”

Peter snorted. “They’re exactly the same as before. Just… more obnoxious.”

Sirius turned to James, absolutely radiating smugness. “Something wrong, Prongs?”

James scowled. “Yeah. You two.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Why, James, I thought you wanted us to be together.”

“I take it back.”

Sirius chuckled, pressing a ridiculously over-the-top kiss to the top of you head just to piss James off more. “Too late.”

James groaned, flopping onto the table dramatically. “This is hell.”

Remus patted his back. “You did bring this upon yourself.”

James let out a miserable sigh. “Worst idea ever.”