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#Seventh times the charm????
prosperdemeter2 · 6 months
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WIP Wednesday - watermark
When I tell you I had to fight the GODS to get this posted, know that I'm telling you the truth. Accept this... not so kind offering 🩵🩵🩵🩵
He couldn’t stop shaking. 
It wasn’t even cold, but it felt like it. The air conditioning in the house had broken a week ago, and Eddie had dragged his heels all up and down their local Target complaining about the prices of a replacement, and he had only shut up about it when they had ended up at Home Depot and all of the units there were about a hundred dollars more. So it was working, and Buck could feel it settling on his skin like pinpricks of tiny, cold icicles digging into the parts of his body that weren’t covered in clothes. But it was about eight six outside, and the air conditioning needed to be on because, otherwise, Christopher would be complaining about how hot it was and Buck didn’t think he could handle hearing that, thank-you-very-much. Not on top of everything else.
So Buck was shaking, the air conditioning was on, and he had been home for approximately ten minutes and locked in the bathroom for nine of them. 
He didn’t know how he had convinced Athena to go home. He didn’t even know if he had convinced her. But she hadn’t gotten out of Bobby’s car to go after him, and Buck didn’t know if that was better, or worse, than if she had insisted on following him inside. 
Evan couldn’t do this, really. Eddie’s things were everywhere. The sink was his. The house was his. The kid was his. 
Evan was just… he wasn’t even Buck. He was Evan. But Buck was lost somewhere in hospital hallways, or maybe he had never been taken out of the hospital in the first place, or maybe he was still on that street, swimming in Eddie’s blood and -. 
The water was hot on his hands. A juxtaposition to the air conditioning on the back of his neck and goosebumps were instantly rising on the backs of his arms. 
When Evan was eleven, he had turned on the water in the bathroom so hot that the next day he had gone to school with a dozen sensitive red splotches on the backs of his palms. No one had said anything, but why would they when usually showed up to classes with new bruises and scrapes? You hurt yourself when you need to focus. 
Are you hurt? 
He shut off the water with a viscous twist of the knob and gripped the sink instead. 
Pull it together. He told himself and refused to look in the mirror. 
This might be a little big on you, it’s Bobby’s. 
On the back of the sweatshirt was Nash in big, bold, white letters. On the front was 118 at the bottom of the firefighter’s emblem, Captain emblazoned in red at the top. Just like his helmet. Too long at the sleeves, a pinch too big at the shoulders. It didn’t quite fit. It didn’t quite feel right. 
Evan was shocked he could even feel anything at all, anymore. 
He was well aware of delayed pain. It had existed within him long before the explosion that had nearly taken his life. There had been a time where little Evan Buckley hadn’t even known he had a broken rib for two weeks before he had been walking home from school and realized it hurt to breathe. Doctor Ocampo said that probably had something to do with safety. The neuropathways in his brain were all fucked up from the abuse he had suffered as a child that now his brain and his body didn’t know how to properly communicate anymore. He was in his bathroom, it was hours after what was rapidly becoming the worst day of his life, and his wrist was finally starting to pierce, his knee was finally starting to scream, and his neck was starting to pull. The doctor had walked him through his own list of injuries - bruising on the elbow, a shard of glass or ten had ended up all the way up his arm, but the piece that had lodged in his wrist had been the only one that needed stitches. His knee was twisted, the good knee, this time, not the one that tended to trip him up. The muscle in his neck was most likely just strained - a side effect of being tackled, quite literally, into the pavement without a helmet. 
Slowly, he lowered himself onto the closed toilet, one hand on the cold porcelain of the sink as if to brace himself, and his sleeve (Bobby’s sleeve) pushed up, the elastic around the wrist brushing against the white bandage obscuring the stitches. 
The laundry basket, full and stuffed right in the middle of the open closet door, mocked him. 
Eddie had said he was going to do it when he was done with his shift. 
Stupidly, Evan laughed and then slapped a hand over his mouth as if to quiet it and keep it locked inside. But, well… the laundry wasn’t getting done now unless Evan did it, huh? Just like he had said it wouldn’t. 
I’m just going to have to do it anyway. 
No, no, let me do it. 
You always forget. 
Okay, so let me remember. 
Maybe he’d leave it for him. Maybe it would just never get done. Maybe, if he left it where it was, it would… “Fuck.” Evan breathed, dug his bruised elbow into his bad knee and hid his face. It wasn’t wet anymore, no, Athena had taken care of that, and Evan knew he had a habit of making people worried when he didn’t have the correct emotional response to big, life changing events and he, really, probably should have been an emotional mess. 
Shock, Hen would have said and sat with him, her hand rubbing a warm circle in the middle of his spine. You’re just in shock. 
Shock, sure. 
That was… all it was. Shock made sense, medically and emotionally. Who wouldn’t be in shock after….
Prep an OR.
Sir, you have to let go. 
Please. 
“Buck?” Christopher knocked on the bottom of the door loudly with the bottom of his crutch. 
Are you hurt? 
“Is dad working late?” 
Buck stood up, the pain sliding from the front of his mind all the way to the back and cleared his throat. “Give me a second, Chris.” He washed his hands with lukewarm water and knocked the closet door shut on his way out of the bathroom, the laundry disappearing from view as it clicked closed. 
There were more important things. 
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gayofthefae · 1 year
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Shoutout to Lumax and their MUTUAL RESPONSIBILITY SO GODDMAN HEALTHY OF THEM.
Shoutout to Lumax who went through very complex problems due to nuanced grief causing personal isolation but Lucas didn’t let it go and initiated communication about it when he was concerned about her, while also trying to respect her request for space.
Shoutout to Lumax who avoided blame at all costs and came back together with intention to take fully responsibility for their part in it, “hiding” and “not looking hard enough” and acknowledging both can be true so that they can move forward and prevent it from happening in the future.
Shoutout to Lumax, man.
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shapovalovvs · 15 days
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this already aged bad lmao
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dogtiber · 4 months
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trying to post the video of tiber at the beach but tumblr keeps EATING it :(
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neurodiversebones · 1 year
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sorry i've been mostly inactive anorexia recovery is HARD. however i have been on my bones rewatch grind (because i've seen it nine times and so its okay that i don't have the attention span to get through 40 minutes of television bc i know whats going on already)
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fraddit · 1 year
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Well, I think the finale torpedoed the pensive grief mode I was writing from, so I think that wip is tabled for a moment. But maybe I can pivot to a different one...
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loomsims · 2 years
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Meet Jorja Valez!
She’s a family oriented baddie who is just trying to live her best life :)
I’m very new to playing and editing ts2 so I'll just be posting gameplay screenies.
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catratnap · 2 days
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whumptober · 25 days
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WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPTS LIST
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Welcome to Whumptober 2024 — Seventh Time's a Charm!
Please make sure to read the Event Info and FAQ below carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.
This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.
This year's playlist can be found here.
And the Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt post can be found here.
We’re very excited to see the community come together for another year of Whumptober! Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!
Best of luck and happy whumping,
Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro
(Text versions of the prompts, as well as event information, rules and FAQ are posted below the cut!)
Whumptober 2024 Prompt List
No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK
Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)
No. 2: TRUST ISSUES
Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)
No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE
Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."
No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS
Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)
No. 5: SUNBURN
Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)
No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED
Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."
No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES
Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."
No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION
Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)
No. 9: OBSESSION
Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)
No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD
Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."
No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE
Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)
No. 12: STARVATION
Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."
No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY
Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)
No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD
Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)
No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA
Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"
No. 16: NECROSIS
Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."
No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO
Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."
No. 18: REVENGE
Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)
No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL
Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)
No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST
Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."
No. 21: BODY HORROR
Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)
No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES
Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."
No. 23: FORCED CHOICE
Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."
No. 24: RADIATION POISONING
Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)
No. 25: SURGERY
Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."
No. 26: NIGHTMARES
Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)
No. 27: VOICELESS
Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”
No. 28: DENIAL
CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."
No. 29: FATIGUE
Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"
No. 30: RECOVERY
Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"
No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP
Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)
Alternatives List:
Body Swap
Communication Barrier
Finding Old Messages
Forgotten
Friendly Fire
Motion Sickness
No-Holds-Barred Beatdown
Regret
Secrets Revealed
Shivering
Survivor's Guilt
Time Loop
Used As Bait
Venom
Vermin
Event Info & Rules
WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!
In total, there are 4 prompts for each day. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.
Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.
When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag it with:
#whumptober2024 …..(the event tag)
#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)
#bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)
#altprompt …..(if you use an altprompt, tag the post with the number of the prompt you replace)
#fandom or #OC, …..(ironman, original content, oc, etc.)
#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)
#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself)
#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)
#your own tags go here
PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]
Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.
Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.
Frequently Asked Questions
Please read this before you send an ask!
TIMELINE
July: Trope voting form released. Late August: Prompt list is released for at least four weeks of preparation time. Tropes cannot be posted earlier than August 25th because of Moderator obligations in real life. (But, you know, go ahead and start writing/drawing, and add the themes in later, if you want!) September: Do as much or as little on your works as you want. You can prepare everything in advance or let September go by with vibes and start working in October. It’s up to you. October 1st: Challenge begins! A storm of whump breaks upon us all! During this time, some posts will be reblogged to the whumptober archive blog. We open the yearly AO3 collection for posting (optional). November 1st: The challenge is officially over! Completionist form opens for those who want to be included in the hall-of-fame. Early November: We release completionist and participant badges, solicit feedback, and post a hall-of-fame list of completionists by the 10th.
PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION
Q: What counts as participation? Create or continue at least one work inspired by one of this year’s prompts. Q: What counts as completion? Creating work(s) inspired by at least one prompt from each day (or alts), for a total of 31 unique prompts. Q: Do I need to create 31 works? No. You can, if you want. Or you can create one work that you add to every day with a new prompt. Or several works that combine prompts. You can also update an existing work by adding new material with the current prompts. Q: Do I need to post my works somewhere to be a completionist or a participant? No. Q: How do you know I actually completed the challenge? We’ll take your word for it! Q: Do I have to finish my work(s) to be a completionist? No, you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish them in October, but if you want it to count towards being a completionist, you must have completed 31 prompts by the end of the month. So for example, if you’re writing a long fic and you fit 31 different prompts into the writing you did in October, it’s okay if that fic isn’t finished by the time October ends, you’ll still be a completionist. Q: Is co-writing/illustrating allowed? Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you. Q: Is there a min/max limit on word count for written works? No. Q: Is there a min/max limit of quality for art? No. Q: Do I have to do something each day to be a completionist? No. You can skip days whenever you want, and as long as 31 daily prompts (or alts) are in your works done in October, you can be a completionist. For example, if you wrote a 1000-word ficlet that covers prompts in days 2, 3, and 17, you can check all three days off your list even though it’s only one work. Q: Is this challenge just for fics? No! Artworks, GIFsets, headcannons, rec lists, poetry, moodboards, or any other creative work is encouraged. Q: Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges? Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.
PROMPTS
Q: How do the prompts work? There are FOUR prompts per day: a theme and three ideas. You can use one, two, three, or all four prompts for each day. If you don’t like any of the daily prompts, you can substitute one of the ALT prompts instead. Q: How strictly/literally should we interpret the prompts? As literally or as figuratively as you want. For example, if the theme is WATER, that could mean drowning, waterboarding, raining, swimming, take place underwater, be lost at sea, construct a metaphor about a character’s mood that changes like a flowing river, crying, or whatever else you can think of that fits that theme. Q: Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many? No limit and combine as many as you’d like. If you create a work that checks off multiple prompts, that work will count for a fill of multiple prompts. You need to address 31 different prompts to be an official completionist, but you don’t have to produce 31 separate works.
WORKS
Q: What’s whump? Hurting a character, whether that’s physically, emotionally, intellectually, psychologically, or any other way you can think of. Comfort afterwards is optional. Angst is emotional whump, so it counts. Q: How do I know if it’s whumpy enough? If your character is just mildly inconvenienced, it probably needs more whump. However, no participant has to prove whumpiness to the mods. Whatever you write is up to you. Q: What kind of characters can I create for? Anything. Generic “whumpee,” OC, PC, NPC, major characters, minor characters, or whatever you want. There are no limits. Q: Does it have to take place in a specific fandom? No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want. Q: Can I create AI-created works? We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created. Q: Is there anything we’re not allowed to write? As long as it contains whump and is based on our prompts, it’s fine. Please courtesy tag your works if you post them so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences. Q: What about sex, minor characters, and potentially disturbing content? You can create whatever works are legal in your country and post them accordingly. Please courtesy tag anything you think might be objectionable if you post to Tumblr so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.
POSTING
Q: Where can I post my work? Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive. There is an AO3 archive for Whumptober 2024, as well as the parent collection for works completed outside of the event. Q: Can I start posting early? You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? We won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st. Q: Can I post late? Yes. For the sake of our hardworking Post Fairies, only a day’s themes will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive each day of October. But you can post whenever. Some of us are still working on and posting Whumptober fics from years ago. Q: Do I have to use your tags? Only on Tumblr and only if you want us to reblog your work on @whumptober-archive. Q: How do I have my works reblogged to the archive? Properly tagged posts will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive. If you want the official archive blog to reblog you, post on Tumblr and tag correctly (see this FAQ link for more info on tagging). Please note not all posts will be reblogged each day. Q: Can we @ you? For questions and comments, of course. We’ll be getting a flood of notifications, so if you really want us to see something send an ask. Q: Can I cross post on other blogs? Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable, as long as they allow cross-posting (to us). You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once. If you post some works under your main and others under an alt blog, that’s fine for completionist purposes. Q: Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms? Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there, which can be found here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the personal boundaries of any whumpers in your social circle (don’t out anyone as a participant who would prefer not to be outed).
Most importantly, have fun, create, and enjoy all the whump posted this October!
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tracing-rivers · 9 months
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Speedrunners will genuinely sneer that a game is too broken for distribution and proceed to demonstrate by a series of actions that literally no one in the universe would do
''did you know you can clip through that wall by eating forty-nine nuts in a row while perched on an ice shield with your camera behind this exact blade of grass?'' no. why would I.
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tsubasaclones · 1 year
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MY ARTFIGHT ATTACK FINALLY WENT THROUGH
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anto-pops · 9 months
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Cheirophilia - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader
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Summary: Following the summer leading up to your seventh year, you return to Hogwarts to discover that Sebastian has undergone changes that greatly appeal to the eye. Your eye, to be specific. There’s no easy way to tell the man you’ve been dating for two years that your attention has been fixed on a part of him otherwise deemed normal, but after a while, you’re forced to face the truth of the matter. 
Alternatively summarized as you have a hand kink and Sebastian Sallow has extremely nice hands.
Word Count: 10.7k
Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, hand kink, size difference
Full fic can be found here on Ao3 (with more diverse tags)
You had to be losing your mind. That was the only plausible explanation for the wild, unrestrained thoughts that had been plaguing your brain for the last week every time you so much as glanced at Sebastian. Yes, he was attractive. He was charming and confident, and quite frankly he was the epitome of male perfection as far as you were concerned. Not a day went by where you didn’t consider yourself lucky to be able to call him yours, and you knew he was just as enamored with you.
But your newfound infatuation with his hands had started relatively recently, and you had no clue what to make of it. 
Sebastian was touchy to begin with, and he always had been. From casually brushing shoulders with you in the Great Hall during mealtimes, to tucking your hair behind your ears at night– the man was constantly finding ways to be closer to you, and your appreciation for his efforts knew no bounds. It made you feel treasured, wanted, revered, and a slew of other things that made your heart swell with affection. Maybe you could attribute your blatant ogling of his appendages to that, or maybe you had just finally started to notice after your Divination class last week. 
Professor Onai, for all her outlandish preachings on clairvoyance, had taken a more mundane approach in teaching her students ‘fortune telling’ a few days ago. “Palm reading,” she had said, “is a delicate and fixed art. It can be as vague as it can be accurate, and it takes an expertly trained eye to decipher the true meaning behind the grooves in one’s hand.” 
You were far from an expert in anything relating to Divination, but you did have an eye for nice things, and Merlin– were Sebastian’s hands exquisite. They were nearly twice the size of yours and covered in calluses, a lingering sign of the grueling physical labor he’d done over the summer in Feldcroft. His fingers weren’t as dainty as Ominis’, but they were long, thick, and lined with pulsing veins that stretched across the backs of his hands and coiled around his toned forearms. As you’d traced the lines on his palm with your fingers, he’d shivered at the featherlight feeling and chuckled at the deferential way you seemed to commit every part of the appendage to memory. 
You didn’t even want to begin to recount the way your heart had hammered in your chest when it had been his turn to read your palm. Maintaining your composure had taken every ounce of willpower in your body.
Since then, your mind had wandered an unhealthy amount.
By some miracle, Sebastian hadn’t noticed your unwavering eye contact with his hands yet. The two of you had been kept preoccupied with the mountains of classwork that came with the start of the new school year, and as a result, your only opportunities to spend time with him had been during mealtimes. Today was different, however, because Lucan had finally set up the first Crossed Wands match of the season. You and Sebastian were both participating, and your boyfriend was all too eager to jump back into dueling after the summer months spent away. 
Your eyes scanned him dutifully from across the room, watching with rapt interest as he chatted with Brattleby about the upcoming fight. Sebastian had grown considerably since your fifth-year, virtually towering over Lucan as he looked down at the curly haired Gryffindor. The latter had gone through a growth spurt of his own, but it was easy to overlook him when he was standing next to your boyfriend. Sebastian was big; broad shouldered with long, powerful legs and thick wrists that complimented his massive, mouthwatering hands. 
Said hands were fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt as he rolled them up, nodding down at Lucan as he replied to something the younger boy had said. You didn’t know what they were discussing, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. His deft fingers adjusted his uniform as he prepared for your duo’s duel, and instead of following suit, you were unabashedly studying his every move. That is, until a voice from your left drew your attention. 
“Did something happen over summer?” 
You startled easily, warranting an eye roll from Imelda as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the wall. It was a rarity to find her in the Crossed Wands courtyard, but you knew she had been hounding members of the Quidditch team to prepare for trial runs and scrimmages, and Sebastian factored into that assortment of people. Schooling your nerves the best you could, you started to shed your robe in an effort to simultaneously get ready for the duel and distract from the metaphorical eye candy across the room. 
“What do you mean,” you asked vaguely, keeping your eyes pointed at the floor as you moved. 
Imelda was having none of it– clearly smarter than you deigned to give her credit for. “Don’t play coy with me. You’re always checking Sallow out, but since we’ve been back it’s ten times worse. Did he sprout a second cock or something?” 
You damn near choked on your own tongue as you whipped around to glare at her. “Do you have to be so crass all the time?” 
She waved you off, “Yes, I do. Who else would rile you up this way if not myself? Now answer the question.” 
Heaving a deep sigh, you draped your robe over a stack of crates and began to gather your hair back into a loose braid as you muttered, “No, nothing happened over summer.”
“But something is going on. Come on,” she implored with a taunting tone, her brown eyes glimmering with amusement. “At least tell me if it’s something bad.” 
“It’s not bad,” you relented. “It’s– I’m not sure what it is, to be honest. We haven’t even done anything since we’ve been back, we’ve been too busy. But…”
You trailed off, staring at the wall behind Imelda as you brought your hair over your shoulder to finish off the plait. She waited patiently, however, all too eager to get the inside scoop on your love life. “But?”
“I don’t know– have you ever found yourself focused on other body parts? Like, really random parts of another person?” 
The Quidditch captain’s face shifted into a confused expression as she chanced a look at Sebastian, evidently trying to figure out what on Godric’s green Earth you were referring to. “Uh, no? If you’re talking about his feet though then I’m going to ask that you forget I even brought this up–”
“No!” You blurted loudly, drawing the attention of a handful of students in the courtyard, Sebastian included. He cocked a brow at you from across the room, and you flashed him a bashful smile in silent reply before mouthing a timid ‘sorry’. Imelda snickered under her breath when you turned back to her, a deep scowl settling on your face. “Dammit, not his fucking feet. I’m talking about his hands. He has really nice hands– I never noticed before.” 
“You’re telling me you’ve had your knickers in a twist for the last week and a half because of Sallow’s hands?” 
To say Imelda looked dumbstruck would be an understatement, and you suddenly felt incredibly stupid for having said anything at all. You kept your eyes downcast as you tossed your braided hair over your shoulder and slid your wand free from its holster, doing your best to ignore the woman’s burning stare. “Nevermind– forget I mentioned it.” 
“I doubt I could even if I wanted to, but for the sake of your dignity I’ll go grab a seat and let you get your head in the game.” You felt your cheeks heat up instantly in response to her snide comment, and you lifted your eyes in time to watch Imelda turn towards the far corner of the room with a smile on her face. She paused before taking off, murmuring over her shoulder, “Make sure you’re paying attention to your opponents and not Sallow’s hands.”
Sweet Merlin… you should have kept your big mouth shut.
***
As it turned out, your head was so far out of the game that it became collateral in the midst of your duo’s duel. 
It was your own fault, really. Despite doing your best to focus on the task at hand, your eyes had continually wandered over to Sebastian, tracking his movements as he fired spell after spell in retaliation against your opponents. He had always been exceptionally graceful while fighting– be it in Crossed Wands or in the Highlands at your side– and his sudden growth spurt over summer had only added to his preexisting agility. It was all too easy for you to get absorbed in his fluid movements as he ducked and rolled, then blocked and countered every attack with astonishing finesse. 
Unfortunately, that meant you were left wholly unprepared for the Depulso charm that sent you careening across the room into a stack of crates. Your head had been positively spinning as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, but your vision cleared in time to watch as Sebastian abandoned the duel entirely to hurry over to where you lay prone against the broken wood. Lucan had shouted something about the match being called off, but you could hardly pay any attention to his words with Sebastian fretting over you, mere inches from your face. 
“Merlin’s bloody balls, what the hell happened?” The brunet hadn’t even given you ample time to reply before he had hoisted you up in his strong, capable arms to carry you to the Hospital Wing. 
That was how you’d ended up where you were now; laid out in an uncomfortable hospital bed with Nurse Blainey hovering too close for comfort while your boyfriend sat beside you with his arms crossed stiffly over his chest. His expression was virtually unreadable, but you weren’t able to focus on him for long without your head pounding in silent protest. 
“Drink this,” Nurse Blainey dutifully instructed, thrusting a vial of Wiggenweld in front of you as she scanned your bandaged temple. “It will help with the swelling and the gods-awful headache I’m sure you’re sporting. My diagnostic spells came back negative for any internal injuries, but that doesn’t mean you can rush back to your foolhardy dueling club. A concussion is a concussion, no matter how small.” 
Your tongue felt like lead in your mouth so you nodded in response instead of speaking– only to instantly regret the movement. Sharp, concentrated pain shot through your head, and you took it as a sign to carefully knock back the contents of the potion she’d given you. A soothing warmth overtook you in a split second, and the throbbing in your skull lessened considerably, prompting you to relax against the pillows situated behind you as your eyelids fluttered. Evidently pleased with your subdued demeanor, Nurse Blainey jotted something down on the clipboard that had been tucked under her arm before turning to Sebastian. 
“I trust that you’ll ensure she actually takes it easy for the next few days, Mr. Sallow?” 
Your eyes cracked open in time to watch Sebastian’s gaze flicker to yours, and the muscle in his jaw ticked as his attention zero’d in on the thick bandage that now adorned your head. “Of course. She’ll be a model patient for as long as needed.” 
Satisfied with his agreement, Nurse Blainey pivoted on her heel and strode to the back end of the room, leaving you and Sebastian alone in a tense silence. 
Heaving a heavy sigh, you gathered your hands in your lap and let your head tip back against the bed frame, wanting nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. All of this because you couldn’t stop ogling your boyfriend for a measly twenty minutes when it mattered most… it was an embarrassing and stupid mistake to acknowledge. Moreover, you’d basically ruined the first Crossed Wands duel of the season– something you knew had to be bothering Sebastian, given his competitive nature. 
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled half-heartedly. “I should have been paying closer attention.”
Sebastian scoffed to your left, and when you peered at him through the corner of your eye, his head looked like it was on the verge of imploding. “Are you seriously apologizing for getting a concussion right now?” 
There was no stopping the frown that spread across your face, and you nervously started picking at your cuticles as your mouth opened, shut, then opened again. “Yes– I mean– no. I’m sorry that the match got canceled because of me. You were probably excited to get back into Crossed Wands and I just… messed it up. I wasn’t thinking clearly out there.” 
“Obviously,” Sebastian countered easily, the amused glimmer in his eyes vanishing before you could take proper note of it. “You’re never one to let your mind wander when you fight, but you have to know I’m not mad about the duel. I was worried about you– I don’t think you realize how terrifying it is to see you of all people bleeding.” 
You gaze fell to your lap as you pursed your lips and lifted your hand to the bandage taped to your temple, trying and failing to recall if you’d actually bled at all. It was all something of a blur if you were being honest. When you looked up at Sebastian once more, he had sat forward in his seat and was reaching towards you, wearing an expression that was equal parts concerned and curious. With your brain still muddled, all you could really do was stare wide-eyed at the nearing culprit of your misfortune; his Merlin-be-damned hands. Those long, flexing digits came to gently stroke the side of your cheek, turning your head to the side briefly to allow him a good look at your patched up face, and as Sebastian tsk’d disapprovingly, you were fighting back a slew of unholy thoughts that had no business arising in the midst of such a tender moment. 
The side of his mouth quirked up as he thought back to your debacle in the clock tower courtyard. “Did your inability to ‘think clearly’ have anything to do with whatever you and Imelda were talking about earlier?” 
Being reminded of your discussion with the Slytherin woman at such an inopportune time caused your face to flush a deep red, and you nervously clasped your boyfriend’s larger hand in your notably smaller one and drew it into your lap. You gently thumbed over the veins on the back of his hand, taking note of the constellation of freckles that ran up his wrist and forearm, and you saw Sebastian tilt his head to the side as he let you fondle the limb. 
“Maybe…” you drawled lazily. Perhaps you would chalk it up to your concussion later on, or perhaps you just wanted to get your insane obsession off your chest. Regardless of the why, you steeled your nerves and swallowed thickly before muttering, “You have really nice hands.” 
Silence. Sebastian said nothing– and that was considerably worse than him saying something– anything. Your brows slammed down just as you lifted your head to gauge his reaction, only to discover a bewildered smile plastered on his smarmy face. 
“…I think you hit your head harder than I thought. Should I call Nurse Blainey back over here?”
Ah. He thought you were delusional. Brilliant. 
Letting go of him as though his skin were heated metal, you sighed and sat forward to swing your legs over the edge of the bed, shivering slightly when Sebastian placed his hand on your hip to steady you. His face conveyed genuine apprehension as he asked, “Are you sure you should be trying to move right now?” 
Part of you was thankful he hadn’t taken your confession seriously, but another stronger part of you was annoyed that you had said anything to begin with. Here was Sebastian, acting chivalrous and doting on you in the wake of you flying face first into a crate, and all you cared to think about was having his hands on you. On your bare skin, between your legs, around your neck…
Something was definitely wrong with you. 
“I’m alright– stop worrying. I promise I won’t overdo it. At this point I just want to eat and go to sleep.” Thankfully he made no move to stop you when you stood yourself up on shaky legs, instead placing that damnable hand on the small of your back to help you keep your balance. You closed your eyes momentarily to will away the vile, uncouth thoughts that seemed to run rampant in your concussed skull, but if the way his fingers tensed against you was any indication, Sebastian clearly thought your brief pause was due to your injury.
“Fine,” he bit out, sounding all too displeased with your stubbornness. “Food, then straight to your dorm. But if I think for even a second you can’t manage, I’m carrying you to bed myself.” 
It hurt to do it, but your eye roll was heavily warranted. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, dad.” 
As the two of you walked from the Hospital Wing to the Great Hall, you realized just how serious Sebastian was about his promise to Nurse Blainey. His hands were constantly hovering at your side, ready to catch you at a moment's notice in the event you required the help, which you fortunately weren’t in need of. You didn’t think you could take any more coddling– or any more… hands-on-torment, so to speak. 
Ominis joined the two of you for lunch shortly after you’d arrived, and you were unsurprised to discover that he was very much aware of your blunder in Crossed Wands earlier. He made sure you were in good spirits and feeling alright before he began nagging you in typical Ominis fashion. 
“Honestly, a Depulso charm?” He chastised you further, resting his chin on his palm as his other hand came to tap absentmindedly against the surface of the table. “I would have expected something like Bombarda to finally end your win-streak, not a paltry Force spell.” 
“That’s what happens when you get complacent,” Sebastian added helpfully, skewering yet another sausage from the platter in front of you. He had to have inhaled four of the blasted things already. Those deep brown eyes of his darkened as they shifted to the injury on your temple, and if he deposited his food on his plate a little more aggressively than normal, you certainly didn’t say anything about it. “She’s just lucky things didn’t end up worse.” 
Ominis hummed in agreement and looked in your direction. “Yes, do make sure you’re not breaking your fall with your face anymore. I would like to think the three of us will graduate in one piece together, but between the two of you and your extracurriculars, my hopes are lessening by the day.”
“Ha ha, very funny,” came your monotonous reply. “Thanks for the words of encouragement, guys. You really know how to make a girl feel better about getting launched into a bunch of boxes.” 
“Well it was quite the spectacle. I’m sure you’ll be the talk of the school for at least a few days, so get used to it.” 
You didn’t even need to turn around to know Imelda stood directly behind you, presumably with her hands on her hips and a wicked smile stretching from ear to ear. She was exactly who you didn’t want to deal with right about now– especially considering she was the only living soul privy to your innermost thoughts regarding Sebastian– but she had no qualms about sidling up beside you and making herself comfortable at the table. Her face swam into your peripheral vision as she inquisitively scanned the side of your head now decked out in thick gauze and tape. “So, what’s the verdict? Brain hemorrhage? Cracked skull? Memory loss?” 
“Concussion,” Sebastian answered around a mouthful of food. He fixed you with a stern look as though to remind you, “She’s been instructed to take it easy for a few days which means no broom trials, Reyes. Don’t even think about dragging her off the castle grounds.” 
The Quidditch captain’s hands shot up in mock surrender, her expression the picture of innocence as she shifted back a little in her seat. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I take it that means you’ll be out of class for the foreseeable future?” 
You answered swiftly this time around, lest your boyfriend deign to speak on your behalf once again. You’d hurt your head, not your mouth. “For today at least, yeah. I doubt I’d be much good in Transfiguration with a splitting headache.” 
If you were only allowed one word to describe the look that overtook Imelda’s face, that word would be trouble. Her tawny eyes crinkled at their corners as a mischievous glint twinkled within them, and you could practically see her gearing up to say something you knew would piss you off. She folded her hands neatly over one another atop the table and leaned sideways on her elbow to shoot you a conniving look, and you couldn’t help but stiffen as a wave of apprehension crept up your spine. 
“Well let me know if you need a hand getting notes for the day. Though I’m sure Sallow would be more than happy to assist. Isn’t that right, Sebastian?” 
The emphasis she placed on the word didn’t escape you, and judging by the confused expressions on both Ominis’ and Sebastian’s faces, they didn’t miss it either. It took unwavering focus to maintain your composure and not react, and you prayed to whatever higher power existed that your cheeks weren’t as rouge as they felt. You sighed softly and glanced at the brunet through your lashes, all too aware of the puzzled look he now bore. “How about it?” You opted to simply play along for the time being in a bid to hide the true meaning behind Imelda’s telling comment. “Can you bring me the notes later?”
Sebastian nodded slowly, his gaze shifting between you and Imelda for a long moment before he set his fork down and ran his long, dexterous fingers through his hair. Your eyes tracked the movement against your will, which only seemed to intensify the curious glimmer in his dark eyes, and when he flashed you that sinful Sallow smirk you were all too familiar with, you swallowed nervously. 
Surely Imelda hadn’t just helped him put two and two together, right? 
“Am I missing something here?” Ominis chimed in from across the table, a scowl tugging at the corners of his lips. 
“No, no,” Imelda said, the words dripping with false dismissal. The urge to throttle her was intense. “I was just implying that our dear friend here is bound to be a handful for the next few days, so she’ll need help. Let me know if I can do anything, although I’m sure you’d much rather have Sebastian be the one to–”
She was cut off by the booming slap of your hands against the tabletop as you clambered to your feet, desperate to escape her pointed comments and Sebastian’s prying stare. “Will do!” you exclaimed with too much bite. You lowered your voice and did your best to keep your tone even, “I’m sure I’ll manage, but I can’t be bothered to figure it all out right now. I’ll just– I’ll see you guys later.” 
You didn’t dare look back as you swung your legs over the bench and took off towards the massive double doors. At this point, you were wishing that your collision with the crates had put you in a coma. Maybe then you could have avoided Imelda’s inevitable pestering, but even then you were positive your nuisance of a friend would have found a way to taunt you in your dreams. This was something you were going to have to acknowledge with Sebastian sooner or later, but until that day came you would do everything in your power to avoid any more awkward run-ins with Imelda. At least when Sebastian was with you, you reasoned. For now, you needed to get away from the general public and sleep on your deranged thoughts before anything else embarrassing could happen.
Apparently the universe had other plans for you, however. You recognized Sebastian’s heavy footsteps running up behind you without even checking to be certain, and even though you wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep the remainder of the day away, when his large hand came to coil around your bicep to halt you in your tracks, you let him. 
“Hey, are you alright?” His eyes softened as they took in your miserable appearance, but all you could pay attention to was the feeling of his thumb caressing the back of your arm as he held you in place. “I’m sorry if I upset you– I didn’t realize Imelda was trying to poke bruises, otherwise I would have told her to leave as soon as she came over.” 
Shaking your head absently, you stared over Sebastian’s shoulder and directed your next words towards the wall, because that was infinitely easier than eye contact at the present moment. “I’m not upset, you don’t have to apologize. She’s just… a lot to handle right now.”
“I’ll say,” he concurred easily, moving his head so it was in your line of sight– only to furrow his brow when you ducked your chin to avoid looking at him. His jaw clenched and his hand around your arm tightened, if only briefly, and then he was tugging you along after him. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your dorm.” 
***
He knew. 
He had to know. 
It was the only plausible explanation you could come up with to give reason to Sebastian’s over-exaggerated use of his hands for the last three days. At first you hadn’t thought much of it; you still had a staring problem and Sebastian still had really nice hands, but the difference in the last seventy-two hours was apparent. It was as though your boyfriend was modeling his hands for you, constantly finding ways to dangle the appendages right under your nose and simultaneously letting his touch linger against your skin for far longer than normal. It was driving you insane, and you were positive he was doing it intentionally. 
Realistically it had started the day after your botched Crossed Wands duel. You, Ominis, and Sebastian had been sitting in the Library to study and work on assignments, your motley trio focused intently on your individual work for the bulk of the afternoon. Ominis was using his dictation quill to take notes, his foggy blue eyes narrowed in concentration while he muttered softly under his breath. Sebastian skimmed his own Herbology textbook with hooded eyes, the book propped against the knee he had crossed over his other leg, and his laid back posture coupled with the way his fingers idly played with the hair around his temples was enough to leave you entranced. Once he had taken notice of your staring, however, he’d smirked to himself and made a show of licking his finger to turn the page over, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. 
You didn’t need a mirror to know you’d flushed beet red at the suggestive act. 
The day after that, the two of you had been in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Sebastian had been asked to demonstrate the proper wand movement for Confringo by Professor Hecat, and shortly thereafter she had asked another student, Hector Jenkins, to take point across from your boyfriend for a friendly duel. Naturally you were prohibited from participating without Nurse Blainey’s go-ahead, so you’d stood at the back of the crowd and looked on ahead with rapt interest, eager to watch Sebastian make short work of his opponent, because of course he would. Chocolate brown eyes had met yours from across the room, and the movement that followed was subtle but obvious– at least, to you it was. 
As Professor Hecat droned on and reminded her students of the rules that went hand-in-hand with dueling in class, Sebastian fondled his wand. Quite literally. His nimble fingers had run along the wood, stroking the handle with such a light touch that his pinky had remained elevated the entire time. His thumb and index finger came to pinch at the tip softly before skimming down towards the checkered handle, and he made a dramatic show of wrapping each one of his fingers around the base before deftly angling the thin wood at you. 
Your breath had caught in your throat at the brazen motion, and Sebastian shamelessly winked at you before settling into the usual, confident persona he embodied while fighting. 
To say you’d become a ball of nerves afterwards would be a monumental understatement. You wound up leaning back against the wall with your ankles crossed to ease the rampant ache that had settled between your legs, doing your best to not look like you were going into an animalistic heat, which was easier said than done. 
Later on during dinner in the Great Hall, you found yourself seated next to Sebastian and across from Ominis, as per usual. The evening had started out much the same as always; with the three of you discussing the events of the day and planning for the upcoming weekend. The only difference was your boyfriend had seemingly taken it upon himself to distract you from the conversation entirely, covertly placing his hand on your thigh beneath the table to run the damn thing up and down your leg. Every time he reached your knee, he would steadily drag his palm higher up, teasing you with an occasional squeeze the closer he got to your center. Since you didn’t want to clue Ominis in on his best friend’s antics you were forced to keep your lips firmly sealed– left with no choice but to silently endure your boyfriend’s unique form of torture. 
As Ominis idly discussed wanting to escape to The Three Broomsticks on Saturday, Sebastian’s grip on your leg tightened while he sat forward to spoon a serving of the night’s dessert onto his plate; a colorful fruit tart with a healthy dollop of whipped cream slapped on top. You swallowed thickly as he delicately skewered a strawberry with his fork and brought it to his lips, pausing to reply to Ominis before popping it in his mouth. 
“I’m game, better to go now before Quidditch practice starts again. Merlin only knows how many trials Imelda intends on cramming into my weekends before long.” 
Ominis snorted and set his cutlery down on his plate, “You say that as though she’s doing it to spite you and you alone. In case you’ve forgotten, there’s six other people to account for on the team, and not all of them were blessed with the free time to practice over summer like you.” 
Sebastian side-eyed you briefly, and the corner of his mouth quirked up into a condescending grin. “That has a whole lot of nothing to do with me and everything to do with them being lazy. But my point still stands– that woman lives to invade my free time, so butterbeers this weekend sounds like a solid plan. What do you say, darling?” 
The brunet chose that exact moment to sensually take the strawberry between his teeth and pull it free from the fork prongs, smiling wickedly at you all the while. A tiny bit of the whipped cream had stayed behind on his bottom lip, but before you could point it out to him or wipe it away yourself, Sebastian did exactly that, drawing his finger into his mouth to suck deviously at the remnants. Your eyes were wider than saucers as you watched his tongue lave over the pad of his thumb and forefinger, and the telling squeeze he bestowed upon your thigh immediately afterwards all but confirmed your fears. 
He absolutely fucking knew. 
***
“I think there’s something on your mind,” Sebastian said from beside you. “Something that’s been on your mind for a while now. Care to share?” 
The two of you were on your way to the Room of Requirement, having just left the Hospital Wing after Nurse Blainey had summoned you there to evaluate your recovery progress following your mentally arduous week. She’d been all too pleased when Sebastian told her you had adhered to her guidelines to the letter– minimizing your physical activity and resting at every opportune moment, much to your boyfriend’s credit. After a few diagnostic scans, mobility trials, and a never ending list of questions designed to test your memory, she had deemed you fit to return to your usual activities– though not before making you swear to stay out of her sight for the rest of the year. 
Affectionately, of course. 
Sebastian’s comment reeled you back to the present moment, however, and you shot him a stern look out of the corner of your eye as you ascended the spiral staircase within the Astronomy Tower. “Unless you’re referring to how stunned I’ve been thanks to your obscene behavior this week, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He skipped ahead of you until he reached the top landing, spinning on his heel to face you as you breezed past him without so much as a second glance. “Oh, but I think you do. Surely you know why I’ve been behaving so ‘obscenely’. You’re the one who gave me the idea after all.” 
Keeping your expression schooled was difficult, but you managed. As the wall concealing the door to the Room of Requirement began to shift and change, you were all too aware of Sebastian sidling up next to you so he could run the tips of his fingers up your arm and over your shoulder, sending shiver-inducing chills down your spine. The gesture was intimate and suggestive, and you sighed softly as you stepped out of his reach to make for the fully formed entryway in front of you– not particularly keen on putting on a show for any students that potentially milled about the tower. 
You made it three steps inside the room before Sebastian grabbed you by your shoulder and spun you sideways, swiftly and effortlessly guiding you backwards until your back collided with the wall, and the startled gasp that ripped from your chest seemed to ignite a spark of interest in your boyfriend’s eyes. The hand he had on you traveled up along the smooth skin of your neck until he had a loose grip on your chin, and the sinful way his thumb trailed over your bottom lip spoke volumes about his intentions. 
“Do I need to coax the truth out of you, or can you be a good girl and say what it is you want?” His other hand slipped beneath the fabric of your blouse, his touch blazing and leaving you hot with want the higher up your torso it traveled. The tantalizing feeling of his blunt nails scraping along the plane of your stomach had your muscles clenching and your breath hitching, and Sebastian dipped his head lower so he was directly in your line of sight. You knew he saw your rampant need for him reflected in your eyes when his pupils dilated, and he moved his thumb away from your lip to caress your cheekbone as you stared wide-eyed up at him. He cocked his head to the side as he goaded you further, “Come on, darling. You’ve never had a problem with saying what’s on your mind before, why switch up on me now?” 
“Because it–” you started to say, cutting off mid-explanation when Sebastian curled his long fingers around your waist to press against your ribs in a way that nullified all coherent thought. His domineering presence over you left you nearly breathless. 
He smirked, all too aware of the effect he currently had on you. “It what?” 
Merlin, he was doing you in with barely any effort. Reducing you to nothing at the hands of his… well, hands. You were pathetic. He waited for your response though, his fingers dancing up your side promisingly while you worked to formulate a sentence. “I-It’s ridiculous,” you stammered out. “It’s embarrassing…”
The hand he’d tenderly ghosted across your cheek slipped behind your head, and his fingers tangled in your hair at the back of your skull to tug gently. The motion forced you to crane your chin up to follow Sebastian’s unwavering gaze, and his lips were close enough to yours that you felt his airy chuckle fan across your nose. “I already know what it is and I can tell you this much; you and I have very different definitions of what qualifies as ‘embarrassing’, darling.” His head dipped into the crook of your neck so he could better bestow wet, open mouthed kisses against your thundering pulse, and your stomach flipped at the sordid sounds he made as he went. “Come on, say it,” he implored you, his voice like velvet. “It’s only us here– tell me what you want.” 
“I…” you began, shuddering immediately after when Sebastian nipped at the spit-slick skin of your throat. Finding the words was only going to get increasingly difficult from here on out, you wagered. “I want your hands on me. I haven’t been able to get the thought out of my mind since school started.”
As though to punctuate his retort, Sebastian’s hold on your hair and your waist intensified, and a barely there squeak weaseled its way past your lips as he pulled away from your throat to fix you with a heated look. “My hands are already on you, sweetheart. Tell me why, use your big girl voice.”
Bastard. Your eyes sharpened in response to his quip, and your palms came to rest flat against the larger man’s chest before you dug your nails into the fabric of his shirt. “Because you really do have very nice hands. Because the mere idea of having them on me does things to me that I can’t begin to describe. And because I’m asking you nicely,” you purred the last bit to the best of your ability, relishing in the insatiable, hungry look that crossed Sebastian’s face at your tone. “Touch me, Sebastian. I want you– all of you. Please?”
As soon as Sebastian’s lips captured yours, your inhibitions ceased to exist. All you could taste, smell, feel, and hear was him, and judging by the demanding way he pulled you flush against him by your waist, that was exactly what he was going for. You keened needily as his nails dug into your sensitive skin and the fingers buried in your hair wound tight around the strands, and your boyfriend eagerly bit at your lips before backing away just enough to stare at you through his hooded, lust-dark eyes. 
“Keep talking to me like that and I’ll do anything you want,” he groaned, utterly captivated by the sight of you so wound up. You caved to his ministrations completely then, your stomach flipping over on itself when his chest pressed against yours and sealed you more firmly to the wall. His groin followed soon after– the long, hard length of him tangible through his trousers as he leaned into your spread legs further– and your own hands finally came to grasp at his shoulders when he rolled his hips against yours fervently. 
“Touch me,” you implored him, the request practically a whisper as it fell from your lips. “Your hands– please, Sebastian.” 
A pleased sound snaked its way through Sebastian’s clenched teeth as he obliged you instantly, releasing your waist and hair to run his hands down your torso before delving beneath your shirt. The rough, chill-inducing feeling of his calloused palms trailing against the bare skin of your stomach had you moaning in earnest, and your head tipped back against the wall with a thunk as he cupped your breasts in those heavenly hands you’d grown to adore so much. Sebastian took full advantage of your submissive position and buried his head in the exposed crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning across your skin as he murmured, “You sound incredible when you beg, darling. So fucking perfect– gods.” 
No words came to you to formulate a reply, especially when your boyfriend’s tongue darted out of his mouth to lave down the slender column of your throat, the biting sting of his teeth on your shoulder following soon after. Your next breath caught in your chest when Sebastian ground his stiffening cock against you once more, and his airy chuckle against you was seductive and ripe with promise. Those nimble fingers of his clawed gently over the rounded tops of your breasts before pinching your hardened nipples, and that was what finally pulled coherent English from your lips. 
“Fuck,” you groaned, unaware of just how much the brunet adored the needy timbre to your voice. 
Sebastian’s hands left your body for the briefest of moments to push himself off the wall, then took you by the hand to guide you towards the small bedroom tucked away in the back of the Room of Requirement. Between the two of you, your combined excitement was palpable– thick enough to cut with a knife– and as soon as you made it through the threshold of the door, he was back on you in a heartbeat. It was all a flurry of lips, teeth, and tongue as he steered you backwards towards the spacious bed, those magnificent hands of his holding your hips steady with firm reassurance. 
Once the backs of your calves connected with the mattress, Sebastian pulled away from your mouth with a wicked smirk, giving you a playful shove that sent you sprawling back on the bed with a startled yelp. It hardly mattered, though. Not when the man before you began undoing the buttons on his own shirt, exposing the tanned, freckled expanse of his toned chest. Not when he shrugged the attire off his sculpted shoulders and lowered himself to his knees so he could peer at you over your bent knees. Nothing else mattered aside from him.
“You know,” he started to say as his hands reappeared on your hips, tugging at the waistline of your trousers so they started to slide over your hip bones. “You’ve inadvertently given me lots of new ideas.” 
A shiver coursed its way down your spine at the suggestive tone he spoke the words with, amplified tenfold by the unrepentant fantasies that flickered through your mind. “Oh really?” 
“Really,” he agreed simply. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards and he gestured wordlessly for you to lift your hips so he could slide your pants down your outstretched legs. You obeyed, if only to get a move on with things so you could see the new ‘ideas’ Sebastian had apparently come up with. Dark, eager eyes met yours as he dropped your clothing to the floor, and then Sebastian asked, “Do you trust me?” 
Without missing a beat, you murmured, “Always.” 
Not another word was uttered, and you watched through hooded eyes as Sebastian prowled up the edge of the mattress to crawl over your prone form. Amusement seemingly glimmered in his lust-laden gaze as he set to expertly unbuttoning your shirt with his adroit digits, revealing inch after inch of your flushed torso, and goosebumps broke out over your stomach in the wake of Sebastian’s knuckles brushing against your heated flesh. 
He didn’t bother removing your blouse fully, opting to instead flick the sides of the undone top outward to let them hang disheveled against your sides. The shallow, anticipatory breaths you let loose was the only sound you made as the freckled man above you gathered your wrists in one of his larger hands to pin them above your head, and the entire time he worked to restrain your arms, his eye contact with you remained unwavering. Warriness and excitement alike pooled in the lower pit of your gut, mixing with the telltale ache between your legs that fueled the heat that slithered through your veins. 
Sebastian’s free hand came to touch you then, starting at the swell of your breasts before he gently thumbed over the peak of one of your nipples. The sensation had you sucking in a breath loud enough to make your boyfriend pause– only for him to repeat the motion a second time. “You’re rather pent up, aren’t you?” 
Despite yourself, you narrowed your eyes in response to his taunting and rolled your head to the side in an attempt to hide the blush you knew spread across your cheeks. “Shut up…”
The hand on your breast flew to your face, gripping your chin and turning your head back so you were forced to meet his penetrating stare. “Come on, be honest,” he goaded you further. “You missed me. Say it.” 
“Of course I missed you,” you relented quickly. “I didn’t see you for two months.”
That damnable smirk of his made its grand reappearance, and you hated how much you loved the sight of it. “You managed well enough last summer. Or were you lying through your teeth about handling the distance ‘easily’ on your travels?” 
Your fingers twitched in his unrelenting hold, the urge to crane your neck away again taking over, but you were forced to keep your eyes trained on his. “I wasn’t lying then, but I still missed you.”
The way his head tilted to the side curiously reminded you of an animal attempting to get a better look at their prey. “So why the sudden change?”
Chewing your lip thoughtfully for a moment, you decided to voice your inner thoughts regardless of how bashful the idea made you feel. “Because you changed. You’re… bigger.”
Your drab attempt at an explanation didn’t escape Sebastian, but that amusement still glinted in his eyes as he released your chin and trailed his hand down your torso towards your aching center. “Bigger, huh? Care to elaborate?” 
Skillful fingers slipped under the cotton of your undergarments, already damp with arousal, and you mewled softly when one of his digits slid through your wet folds before pressing down on your clit with delectable pressure. It nearly derailed your train of thought entirely, but Sebastian helpfully pulled away and snickered when your disappointed sigh slipped through your clenched teeth. “Dammit–”
“You talk,” he fucking purred down at you, looking far too smug for your liking, “and I work. Sound like a fair trade?” 
His offer was emphasized by one of his fingers probing at your slick entrance, further enticing you to oblige his request. When you angled your hips to meet the feeling, he pulled back swiftly, quirking a brow at you with a knowing look. 
Bastard, you thought. 
Fine. 
“Y-You’re bigger,” you started to say. “More muscular than before, and I think you grew a couple inches.” 
Sebastian’s hand resumed its teasing exploration of your center once more, gingerly inserting his middle finger inside of you as his thumb took to rubbing titillating circles against your clit. The flutter of your eyelids brought a coy smile to the brunet’s face, and his hold on your wrists tightened a fraction as he increased the intensity of his movements. He mockingly said, “You like having a big, strong boyfriend or something? The scandal.” 
You barely registered the gibe– not with his thumb slowly working over your clit in time with his finger. It damn near voided all of your brain’s function. All you cared to focus on was the bliss that came with finally having his hands on you. “Yes,” you groaned with blatant need. “I love it– I love it so much– you’re perfect, Sebastian.” 
Spurred on by your praise, Sebastian leaned down to mouth wetly at your throat, biting and sucking at whatever smooth skin he found as he pumped his finger in and out of your wet heat steadily. Your head rolled to the side to allow him easier access as he presumably worked a bruise into your flesh, and you relished in the knowledge that he was rebranding you as his after the summer months spent apart. A guttural moan spilled from your mouth as he laved his tongue over the mark and covertly slipped a second finger inside your cunt, crooking the digits up to reach a depth you could never hope to when you were pleasuring yourself. 
He took it slow, half for your sake and half for his own, but as Sebastian scissored his fingers and upped his tempo, he could see how you fell apart for him. You struggled to breathe, your every exhale colored with a panted, needy little sound while your thighs twitched and tensed on either side of his arm. When he shifted his fingers up just slightly, your entire body shuddered as your back arched off the bed and you choked on a breathy whine. You were so sensitive, so incredibly vocal, and it was driving him crazy. 
Sebastian’s size allowed him to stretch over the majority of your upper body easily, his hold on your arms still firm as he dipped his head lower to lick his way down to your breasts. Ever so gently, he took one of your nipples between his teeth and clamped down with a cautious amount of pressure, increasing the pace of his fingers when he heard your breath hitch in your throat. You could feel his lips stretch into a smile against your chest as your heart rate sped up and your hips involuntarily bucked up into his hand in search of more friction– more of him. 
“Merlin–” you writhed atop the sheets as that familiar ache took root in your gut, your finish approaching dangerously fast as Sebastian pressed the palm of his hand against your clit and somehow managed to pump his digits deeper inside of you. “Fuck, fuck!” 
He pulled away from your torso to watch you with rapt interest, a flicker of something primal flashing in his brown eyes as he observed your features pinching together with obvious focus as you chased the euphoria he bestowed upon you. “You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it… I never thought just my hands could do it for you like this, sweetheart. Consider me pleasantly surprised.” 
His words meant nothing to you– not right now. Your climax was so close, so painfully close that all you cared to focus on was the steady rhythm of Sebastian’s fingers and his strength holding your wrists down to the bed. Brainlessly, you rolled your head to the side as Sebastian worked you towards the edge, only to blink blearily up at him when he released your wrists to grab the underside of your jaw and force your eyes back on him. 
“Look at me while you come on my fingers. I want to see every second of it.” 
Who were you to say no? 
Your release was akin to a tidal wave– crashing over you violently and stealing your breath as you tried your hardest to keep your eyes open and glued to Sebastian. Mouth falling open around an airy moan, your boyfriend continued to finger-fuck you through your orgasm as he captured your lips in a desperate, lethal kiss. “That’s it,” he groaned into your parted lips. “Good girl.” 
The brunet had the good grace to slide his fingers out slowly while he pulled away, laughing softly at the slight jolt your body gave when his palm grazed over your bundle of nerves once more. Dazed and twitching beneath him, you didn’t notice he’d brought his hand to his mouth until it was inches from your face, and the stars clouding your vision cleared just in time to watch him take the two fingers that had previously been inside of you between his lips. 
“I– what are you doing?” Your incredulous tone didn’t deter Sebastian in the slightest, and he smirked around his fingers before pulling them out of his mouth with an audible wet sound. 
“Tasting you,” he said casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Then with a wink he added, “You’re very sweet.” Nearly all the blood in your body rushed to your cheeks in that instant, warming your face as your mouth fell open in silent shock. It was balmy– completely and utterly bewildering. Yet you couldn’t help but find the brazen move equally… arousing. 
You’d officially lost your mind. 
In a flash, he lowered his hand closer to your own open mouth, shoving the fingers past your lips and grinning when you squealed with indignant surprise. There was nowhere for you to go– nowhere for you to turn your head to escape the taste of yourself on his digits– and so you were left with no choice but to allow Sebastian to run his fingers along your tongue. The added knowledge that you found his hands so alluring only made the whole spectacle more intimate, and before you could stop yourself, you found yourself sucking shamelessly at his skin, working your tongue over his knuckles as you stared up at him with unrestrained desire. 
“Gods,” he muttered, swallowing thickly before pulling his fingers free from your mouth. His voice was shaky, and you dimly registered that your eager submission had gotten to him. 
You licked the remnants of yourself from your lips as Sebastian shuffled back to the edge of the bed, standing straight to hastily undo his trousers and shove the material down his long, toned legs. Numbly, you followed suit, sitting up shakily to shrug off your now wrinkled blouse and toss it aside to join the growing pile of clothing at your boyfriend’s feet. 
Nude as the day he was born, Sebastian confidently stared down at you and took in the full picture of you before him with an animalistic hunger shining in his eyes. His chestnut hair was unruly and curled wildly in every direction, the breaths he hurriedly sucked down causing his shapely chest to rise and fall in a way that dragged your attention to his strong, capable body. You drank in the sight of his tan, freckled skin, your wide eyes roving lower and lower until they landed on his hard cock arching proudly against his taut stomach. 
Maybe you were imagining things, but you could have sworn that was bigger too. 
When your eyes jumped back to Sebastian’s, you were positive he knew exactly what you’d been thinking, if his wolfish grin was anything to go by. “See something you like?” 
“Please fuck me,” you groaned, too turned on by the sight of him alone to be embarassed about how desperate you sounded. 
Sebastian effortlessly crawled back onto the bed and settled over you, pulling you into another intoxicating kiss as he slipped between your spread thighs and rolled his hips, grinding his achingly hard cock against your slit with a dizzying sort of precision. You couldn’t help but moan into the kiss, your eyes squeezing closed before you tilted your head back and arched up against him. “F-Fuck, you’re so hard,” you gasped, loosely hooking your legs around Sebastian’s hips. 
Groaning his agreement, Sebastian nipped at the side of your jaw and murmured, “You have no idea… want you bad.” He nuzzled your ear for a moment, humming at the way you shivered under him, then mouthed his way down your throat with hot, wet kisses that pulled a slew of tiny noises out of you as he rocked his hips again. 
Before you could wrap your arms around his shoulders like you’d planned, Sebastian was sitting back on his heels to manhandle you exactly where he wanted you. Those big hands of his grabbed you by your waist, hauling you down the bed like you weighed nothing so your rear was balanced over the tops of his knees and he was perfectly aligned with your slick entrance. The way he easily moved you around spoke volumes of the physical labor he’d done over the summer, slaving away the muggle way to restore his Uncle’s former home for the two of you to use after graduation. Every stone moved, every log chopped, and every wheelbarrow trundled was cataloged within the corded muscles that lined his body. 
If you weren’t already head over heels for the man, you were certain you would be deemed grossly smitten.
Sebastian’s hands slid from your waist to your thighs to better hold you in place as he bumped the tip of his cock against you, and your breath stuttered in your chest at the first steady roll of his hips, the head sliding home easily into your slick, tight, and warm heat. Your name fell from your lover’s lips in the form of a ragged moan, fingers digging into your legs as he rocked his hips slowly, feeling for any tension or resistance. Everything he’d done to soothe you, however, had paid off, and he found that once he pressed in more firmly, you took him perfectly, letting him slide deeper with every short thrust. 
He really had gotten bigger.
“I could tell you thought so,” Sebastian said around a laugh. Had you said that out loud? “Your eyes just about bugged out of your head when you looked earlier.” 
Embarrassed for the nth time in the last week, you looked away from him and quietly grumbled under your breath, “Whatever… don’t let it get to your head. Your ego is big enough as it is.” 
“It’s not the only thing that’s big apparently,” he countered easily. As though to punctuate the statement, Sebastian pulled his hips back once more before spearing into you with brutal efficiency, and the gasp that ripped from your throat then was followed by a breathless sound that bordered on a wail. 
It was so thick– Sebastian’s cock– and it filled you up and spread you open so incredibly, but it was the angle that was really rendering you incapable of thought. With your hips elevated, the blunt head brushed past your sweet spot with every dragging thrust, re-lighting that fire in your blood that threatened to set you ablaze. You wanted more, but you were almost afraid of how good it would feel, how high it would take you. Sebastian was all around you, with his hands gripping your thighs, deep inside you, stirring you up and coaxing brainless whimpers out of you, not bothering to hold back for your sake– and thank the gods for that. 
A meek keening sound arose from your throat as you gasped Sebastian’s name, and the brunet responded with a rough growl, stroking your thighs tenderly before abandoning one of them to place his hand on the lower part of your stomach. He pressed down with his fingers splayed against your skin, thrusting into you deeper so you could really feel every long, delectable inch of him within you, and the added pressure made your head spin and your walls clamp down on him. 
“Oh, fuck–” you moaned wantonly, arching your spine as much as you were able in a bid to feel as much as possible. Sebastian responded by moving his grip on your thigh to your waist, fucking into you harder until all you were capable of doing was whining for more with your eyes unfocused. Rational thought was gone– you were losing your mind with the way Sebastian was pounding into you now, that fire spreading through you– but you had quickly stopped being afraid of the feeling. The hotter you got, the more Sebastian’s perfect aim drove you higher until you were arching and pleading, noisy and half-coherent as overwhelmed tears filled your eyes. 
When you finally caught hold of words beyond brainless, wavering cries, you threw your head back with a gasping whine to loudly beg, “Sebastian, please, please–” 
“F-Fuck,” he stuttered out, moaning desperately into the empty air before he rasped, “You like it that much, darling? Want more?” 
“Yes!” You clawed mindlessly at the hand he had clamped against your waist, urging him to use the damn thing in the way you had dreamt of every night since returning to school. Ever the fast learner, Sebastian obliged you mercifully and let go of your waist, leaving you to hook your legs around his hips as he brought his hands to your throat to pull you onto his cock harder and faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room and muddling your brain further. 
“You look so perfect with my hands around your neck, darling.” Sebastian growled out in-between bestial grunts. “So pretty, so eager. Is it good?” 
He wasn’t choking the life out of you by any means, but the pressure he applied on either side of your neck added a sort of high that left your tongue useless in your mouth. You could hardly formulate words, much less a full sentence, but you still managed to stammer out a raspy, “Y-Yes, fuck–”
You were fairly certain you were drooling all over yourself, but you couldn’t find the willpower to care. There were too many sensations to keep track of, and through the haze of it all, your climax came into sight. Your hand came to grasp at one of the ones Sebastian had secured around your throat while the other fisted in the sheets, squeezing as hard as you could as you rutted back against his hips the best you could. It wasn’t doing much as far as you were concerned, but Sebastian evidently appreciated your attempt as he groaned roughly, letting his head hang between his shoulders as he began pumping his hips faster. 
“Shit– I’m close, I’m so close–”
Beyond your moans of encouragement, there wasn’t much else you could say. Sebastian took your motivating sounds in stride though, keeping one hand clamped around your neck securely as the other flew down to your clit, instantaneously rubbing urgent little circles around the nub in a bid to take you with him over the edge. Your voice was already raspy but so much louder and needier than Sebastian’s short moans of your name, and his half-baked praises and pleas intermingled with the distant banging of the headboard against the stone wall. Even through all that– through the spiking volume of your pleasure and the blinding need devouring you both– all Sebastian saw was you, and all you saw was ecstasy. 
When you finally came you wailed, long and loud as your hands clung to the sheets beneath you and Sebastian’s thick wrist alike, the latter of which knew better than to stop now. Your muscles tensed dangerously tight, your toes curling hard and your nails scraping fresh tracks down Sebastian’s forearm hard enough to leave welts, and your boyfriend was already holding on by a thread by the time your cunt clamped down tight around him. It was almost too hard to move, but there was just enough give that your climax peaked impossibly further and Sebastian fell right after you, crying your name over and over with the rough, faltering tempo of his hips. 
The two of you were hardly aware of anything as you both slowed down and came off of that high, but you eventually blinked the fog from your mind and came to realize Sebastian had long since abandoned his hold on your throat in favor of laying across your prone form, lightly peppering kisses against your collarbone as he sucked down breaths to catch his breath. The stinging twitch of uncoiling muscles and the swelling bites and scratches only served to bring you both back to reality in slow, leisurely time with one another, and at the end of it all it was Sebastian who found his voice first, murmuring yet another snide comment into the crook of your shoulder. 
“Should I start wearing gloves now?” 
Still breathless and spent from the last hour– hell, the entirety of the last week– your delirious laughter was uncontrollable as you realized and quickly accepted that the truth was now out there, and your boyfriend was more than ready to take full advantage of that. “I don’t think gloves will help, honestly.” 
The remainder of the school year would end up being a testament to just how true that claim actually was, you guessed. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, would most certainly enjoy every second of it. 
4K notes · View notes
yandere-daydreams · 27 days
Text
Title: Malefic Attachment.
Pairing: Yandere!Malleus x Reader (TWST)
Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.
Word Count: 3.0k.
TW: Platonic (At The Moment) Yandere Malleus, Manipulation, Deliberate Social Isolation, and Obsessive/Delusional Behavior.
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The worst thing about you, Malleus had decided, was that you’d chosen to be his friend.
‘Chosen’, because you’d been the one to approach him, a dazzling smile painted across your lips and a dozen questions about his life as royalty in a faraway land on your tongue, and ‘worst’, because he couldn’t think of a single other thing about you that he despised so fervently, or for that matter, that he disliked at all. He couldn’t be sure when he came to such a grim conclusion, although it had most likely been some time between the fourth time you’d sought him out in the minutes between your classes and the seventh you apologized for having to cut your conversation so short, nor was he entirely certain why the thought of having any claim to you left him so unsettled, despite how innocent your relationship was.
Briefly, he’d considered keeping you at a distance, telling his retainers to make sure you stayed at arm’s length, but he hated the thought of inconveniencing Silver and Sebek, and he hated the thought of having no claim to you at all even more. He’d never hurt you, nor was he possessive by nature. Most days, the only thing he craved was to sit by your side and—
“Malleus?” He felt a shoulder nudge into his side, a glanced down to find you, of course – staring up at him, smiling as if you already knew he’d been too lost in his own thoughts to listen properly. Immediately, it was all he could do to settle into place and smile back.
Most days, the only thing he wanted was to sit by your side and be with you, and it would’ve been a shame to squander such a golden opportunity to do just that.
He moved to apologize, to explain himself, but there was no need. You were already rolling your eyes and returning to your previous posture; curled into yourself, your legs folded against your chest, chin resting on your knees. It was strange – what lengths such a small creature would take to make itself even smaller. Malleus couldn’t help but find it endearing, the way he might’ve found a plush toy endearing, or a particularly charming prey animal. “I just don’t understand what’s going on,” you sighed, slumping further into yourself. Instantly, Malleus knew that whatever the cause of your distress was, it would not survive much longer than that night.
Still, he listened intently, as you went on. “I mean, I have to be the problem, right? I’m the only common factor – well, me and NRC, but it’s not like people are avoiding school.” Another sigh. This time, when you buried your face in your knees, it remained there. “They’re just avoiding me. I must’ve done something wrong.”
“Never,” he said, because it was true. Because you were infallible, save for your poor taste in companionship. “I can’t imagine what would lead you to believe such a terrible thing. Did someone tell you that?”
There was no real point to asking. He would’ve known if someone had planted such a vile thought in your head; would’ve dealt with it on the spot. Despite his reservations, Malleus made a hobby out of your safekeeping. If something were to happen to you, a human brazen enough to share his company so often, it would’ve reflected poorly on him.
(It’d occurred to him that you were not the first human to ever approach him, nor would you be the last, but Malleus opted against lingering on such technicalities. You were the only human to enjoy the spoils of his protection, and that was enough to make you wholly unique.)
You didn’t answer, not at first. Instead, your attention drifted from him to the view you two so often enjoyed together. It’d been difficult to convince you to join him here – on the roof of Diasomnia’s tallest tower, where one could make out mile after mile of dark, inviting forest in every direction and the dark colors of your dorm uniform blended into those of the night sky – but it’d been even more difficult to convince Vil to let you slip out after curfew. While Malleus knew he had no right to question the nature of your soul, he did often wonder why you had to be placed into Pomefiore, of all possible dorms. Schoenheit was one of the stricter house wardens, outmatched only by Rosehearts. It was difficult to steal a student of his dorm away at the best of times, and Malleus rarely wanted to see you at the best of times. If you’d belonged to Savannahclaw or, should he be so lucky, Diasomnia, there would be no need to rely on Schoenheit’s sparse charity after he’d already gone to the lengths necessary to seek you out.
But you were precious to Malleus, and there were few things he wouldn’t do to ensure your happiness. He cared about you – irrationally so. “My lab partner,” you admitted, eventually. Malleus felt something deep within his chest lose its shape, and yet his smile could only seem to widen. “I don’t know him that well, so it’s not like I have any right to feel… betrayed, I guess, but—”
“You have every right to feel exactly how you feel,” he interjected. “What did he say?”
Malleus already knew. He wanted to hear from your lips, though.
“It’s a little hard to remember.” And yet, you didn’t hesitate to go on. “I think… I think he might’ve said it was too dangerous to be around me. That I was a hazard to have in class, or something.”
That was only half-true, although he doubted you were lying deliberately. Just ‘a hazard to be around’ would’ve been more accurate, on its own. “Is that all?” He moved closer, draping an arm over your shoulders. Automatically, you melted into his side – your body slotting perfectly against his. “You have to know how untrue that is. You’re an excellent mage, and a pleasure to—”
“He’s not the only one, though.” It was the first time he heard your voice so pitiful, so distorted. Malleus couldn’t help but find it endearing. It would’ve been better for both of you, if you allowed yourself to be more reliant on him. “My roommate – that’s someone you have to share a room with when your dorm doesn’t unanimously decide to worship the ground you walk on, I know you’re probably not familiar with the concept – requested to move last week, and—” Your voice caught in your throat, your gazing turning downward. Malleus felt his fangs sharpen behind his lips, but repressed the urge to act on his less wholesome instincts. “There’s this boy in my third hour – from Ignihyde, I think. I swear, I’ve never even talked to him, but last time we had class together, he just came up to me, and—” You paused, shrunk into yourself. You attempted to pull away from Malleus, but he only drew you in tighter, and your resolve gave away far faster than his patience. “He called me a freak.”
Ah.
Malleus had wondered what’d come of his brief conversation with your classmate. It was a tamer offense than what he’d expected, although you were having a much stronger reaction than he would’ve hoped.
You weren’t wrong, for what it was worth. You hadn’t spoken to that particular classmate, but you could have. He’d planned to confess to you during your shared period, although he hadn’t thought to phrase it quite so romantically. Sebek had overheard him building up his courage, and it’d only taken a few words from Malleus to dissuade him from doing anything so foolish. Not that it was foolish to want to be around you – if that was true, he would be the biggest fool of them all. It was only foolish to think that someone so insignificant, someone so unimportant had any more right to be around you than Malleus did.
He couldn’t help but notice, as time went on, that all of the people you may’ve once considered friends were rather weak-willed. It was a tragedy, really. Malleus was aware that he had a reputation among the mortal portion of NRC’s student body, but that was no excuse to act the way your ‘friends’ always seemed to – sniveling and shaking, brought to tears by even the implication of a threat. He worried, at first, that they’d go running to you, spout off something awful and exaggerated that painted his protective habits in an unflattering light, but as far as he could tell, it was unfounded fear – an easily dealt with one, at that. Should anyone ever try to put anything but distance between you and themselves, he’d—
Well, he couldn’t hurt them. You wouldn’t care for him as much as you did, if he tried to.
That was, if you ever found out.
Again, his mind drifted back to Schoenheit; all narrowed eyes and pursed lips and disapproving scowls every time Malleus mentioned your name. It didn’t make him angry – he’d never been quick to anger, and it would only be childish to change that now – but he didn’t care for the way he felt when he was apart from you, when he couldn’t find an excuse to do away with the flimsy barriers that separated you from him. He didn’t enjoy the tightness in his chest, the dryness in the back of his throat, the way every little inconvenience left him on the brink of violence. No, he didn’t care for the way he behaved when you weren’t with him.
Yet again, his mind turned to Vil.
Perhaps he was more prone to anger than believed himself to be.
“Mortals,” He was talking before he realized he’d wanted to. His gaze flickered from you, still despondent and curled against his side, to the landscape, all-but pitch black under the thick veil of night. “are fickle creatures. They tend not to trust what they don’t control. Humans, especially.”
Another jab to his side, albeit not as forceful as the first. “Keep in mind that you’re talking to a human right now, Mal.”
“How could I forget?” This time, it was Malleus who detached from you, pushing himself to his feet and offering you a hand to help you do the same. With a huff, you followed him, mimicking exasperation as you let him guide you. “I only meant to say that you might not be entirely understood by such short-lived creatures. I mean, you’ve seen how they act around me.” He squeezed your hand, and bashfully, you looked away. “You agree, don’t you, (Y/n)?”
It took a moment, but with a small sigh and slight smile, you nodded. “…yeah, I guess. It’s not like teenagers are supposed to be nice or anything.”
“You agree, then. They’ve been treating you cruelly.”
Your smile wavered. Malleus considered that it may have been your fragility that’d endeared you to him. Or your inability to hide it, at least. “Well, I wouldn’t call them cruel, but…”
“But?”
“They can be mean, sometimes, I guess. The people in my dorm, especially.” You forced an airy laugh, turning away from him entirely. “I… I think Vil might’ve told them to keep an eye on me. They’ve been acting like I’m under house arrest, lately.”
“You must know how unfair that is.” Almost as unfair as Schoenheit’s attempts to keep you away from him. “And I’m sure you must know that you’d be much happier in a dorm with more open-minded students.”
Immediately, your expression dropped. You tried to pull your hands out of his, but he only tightened his grip. It pained him to exert any amount of control over you, but some pains were necessary. Those that kept you within the scope of his protection, especially. “I… I don’t really like where this is going, Malleus.”
“You haven’t even given me a chance to explain myself.” He didn’t realize his hold had tightened into something bruising until your lips quirked downward, eyes narrowing as you struggled to choke down a fractured whimper. Reluctantly, he released you, but his hands soon found their way to your shoulders. You couldn’t run, not on a rooftop, not very far, but there was no reason to give you the chance to. “I only think that you should consider how happy you could be if you—”
“Malleus,” you interjected. “I really don’t—”
“If you belonged to Diasomnia,” he finished, despite your protests. Impressively, you managed to bite your tongue long enough for him to explain himself properly. “Our students are much less territorial, and the majority are still human. If you’re afraid you’ll be an outcast, don’t be. You’ll still be among your own kind, just a less hostile breed.” When you failed to move, he gave himself the luxury of a less restricting form of affection – bring one hand up to cup your cheek. “I’m only trying to suggest that you seek out a more suitable place for yourself. It’s not as if staying where you are will make you any happier.”
“…I like Pomefiore, though. And it’s not like everyone’s avoiding me.” A lie, albeit one plausible enough to send a bolt of white, searing fear from the deepest hollow of Malleus’ chest to the back of his throat. He flinched, but caught himself before his pointed nails could harm your delicate skin. If you had any friends left (aside from himself, of course), he would tear them apart. He would carve their hearts from their bodies. He would—
He would change that.
There was no need to be so gruesome about it. Not yet, at least.
“You care for it more than you care for me?” He made sure to keep his tone light, teasing, only letting it dip into something more serious when you bit the inside of your cheek and looked away. “Please, don’t tell me that you still think they’re worth your time.”
“They’re not all bad.” You still weren’t looking at him. Malleus might’ve been more annoyed if he thought you had anything beyond him to pay attention to. “Vil’s a really good house warden, and—and, we have these skincare nights once a week, which might not sound very fun to you, but—Well, I haven’t been invited recently, but—”
To your credit, you didn’t need him to say anything. All it took was a sympathetic look, his palm slotted tenderly against your cheek, and you cracked before he had the chance to say a word.
“…but, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.” You shook your head, shrugged, as if it wasn’t a matter of true concern. As if you wouldn’t give anything to be as near to him as possible. “It’s not like I can just decide to change the nature of my soul. That’s between the dark mirror and…” Another chirping laugh, like windchimes and birdsong and silver bells. Malleus could only hope he’d hear it again sometime soon, in a more celebratory context. “…itself, I think.”
“Normally,” he admitted, running his thumb over your cheek. “Save for when you have another extremely competent house warden to petition the headmaster on your behalf.”
Even in the dim light, he could make out your cheeks flush. Good. He wanted to have an effect on you – any effect at all. “Malleus, I—I really can’t ask you to do that. You’re already so busy, and I really don’t mind—”
“(Y/n).” Immediately, you went quiet. He rarely used your name, and you knew to pay attention, when he did. “If you can tell me, honestly, that you do not believe you’d be happier in Diasomnia than you currently are, I’ll drop the matter entirely.”
You pursed your lips, your eyes meeting his own for the first time since he’d broached the topic. “…and if I couldn’t say that?”
Biting back his grin would’ve been impossible. He could only hope you mistook his delight for relief. “Then consider it done.”
You really were a delicate creature. A few seconds of quiet anticipation, a gentle squeeze to your arm, and he all-but watched you fold into yourself, crumpling under the weight of your own isolation. A small, unsteady smile spread over your lips as you pulled away from him altogether, only to throw yourself into his chest; your arms winding around his neck as you pulled him into a lung flattening hug. After a startled beat, he returned the gesture, pulling you that much closer as you buried your face in the leather of his coat. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you,” you stuttered, speaking quickly enough for each word to slur into the next. “I—I just haven’t had anyone to talk to, but you’ve been so patient, and so nice to me, and I… I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” You pulled back, looking up at him. Your smile was brighter than he’d ever seen it, and Malleus took a moment to savor that he’d been the one to draw it out of you. “You’re the best, Malleus.”
“Think nothing of it.” He was tempted to pull you back, to hold you for just a few seconds longer, but you were already tearing yourself away from him, clapping your hands together as you rambled excitedly about how much fun it would be to stay in the same dorm, how much more time you could get to spend with him and Lilia, how excited you were to get to know Silver and Sebek and all the other underclassmen who liked to, in your own words, ‘bite at his ankles’. It was only when you took an over-eager step towards the rooftop’s ledge that he took you by the arm, pulling you back with an airy chuckle. “It’s gotten late,” he explained, snapping his fingers. In the blink of an eye, the two of you were standing in his dorm room, the rooftop and the night sky’s expanse left behind entirely. “Why don’t you spend the night in one of our spare rooms? I’ll make more appropriate arrangements in the morning.”
You agreed without a second thought, and as he walked you through the shadowed halls of your soon-to-be home, he decided that he’d been wrong, initially. The worst thing about you wasn’t that you’d chosen to be with him. Really, your closeness wasn’t a bad thing at all.
The worst thing about you, undeniably, was that you could still choose to be close to people who weren’t Malleus.
Thankfully, he was already taking measures to fix that.
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ellecdc · 26 days
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Hi!! Ok this is my first time doing an actual request so…I hope I do this right 😭.
Poly!marauders x transfer student reader: Reader comes from the US, where quodpot is the more popular wizarding sport (like quidditch is rugby and quodpot is football). Reader has always LOVED quidditch and is excited Hogwarts actually has a team. Maybe reader trying out for the team? Seeker would be cool bc the reader would be able to practice that by themself. Reader going to the pitch early every morning to practice leading up to tryouts, Sirius and James watching from the stands bc that’s normally THEIR time to practice. Remus sitting with a hot tea and bundled up…UGH I LOVE!
this was such a cute idea! this is actually the second fic I've ever written that involved 0 dialogue and I only realized that about either fic once I finished this one, so hopefully it's good! thanks for your request, love, I hope I did it justice!
poly!marauders x transfer student!reader who is obsessed with quidditch [900 words]
CW: .... I don't think any?? read is Gryffindor, written for a fem!reader (term that's used is witch) but could be read as gender neutral as they/them/their are used
If someone were to ask Remus why he could suddenly be spotted haunting the castle grounds before the sun rose most mornings now-a-days, he would quickly blame it on his sodding no good energetic and horribly devious boyfriends (who he loved very much). 
But the real answer was a far more selfish one.
You see, Remus (and Sirius and James) had developed a rather peculiar crush on a rather peculiar witch in their final year of Hogwarts. 
The rumour had been that a new student transferring from Ilvermory was going to be attending Hogwarts for their seventh year, and with Hogwarts (and the wizarding community in general) being as small as it was, it had created quite the buzz. 
The rumours were proven true when a witch far older than the many first years lined up for their turn at the sorting ceremony took their place below the hat only for it to shout GRYFFINDOR before their robes were decorated in red and gold.
You seemed utterly enchanted by it all; by the floating candles, by the stone walls, and by the feast itself. 
Watching you skip throughout the castle in the weeks following the Welcome Feast was nothing short of inspiring; it was as if watching a muggleborn first year see the castle and all of its secrets for the first time again. 
You seemed to be very skilled at finding the magic in, well, magic. 
Remus wondered then when magic stopped feeling so magical to the rest of the seventh year class; even children who were raised by magical parents were nothing short of ecstatic to begin honing their own skills at Hogwarts.
When did that stop feeling so exciting? When did throwing up silencing charms and summoning objects towards yourself become second nature instead of an exciting and exceptional learned skill? When did transfiguring buttons into butterflies become an arduous lesson instead of a wondrous adventure?
And that's not to say that you hadn’t seen or experienced magic before; on the contrary, you were a very talented witch. But you seemed to be awestruck by every single thing that you set your eyes on.
The fact that you were living in a castle had been particularly exciting for you, from what Remus had overheard, as was the game of quidditch. 
The popular and more commonly played sport in the magical United States was that of quodpot, and what little Remus actually understood about quidditch, he understood even less of quodpot, which is to say that he understood absolutely none of it. But even Remus had to admit there was something mesmerising about watching the way your tongue stuck out a little bit through your teeth as you drew out different drills and formations in your dedicated quidditch journal.
Though the quidditch season hadn’t started yet, every time there was a pickup game or a one-on-one, or even a few players feeling the familiar itch of flying through the air at record speeds and dodging other players and flying balls, one could be certain that you would be standing in the bleachers - often even hanging over the edge of the railing (in a way that made Remus very nervous, thank you very much) - with a wide smile on your face as you took it all in. 
And if Remus was really lucky, he’d even get a chance to watch as you balanced on the balls of your feet as if your body was just itching to join in on the fun. 
And if Sirius and James both took the piss for Remus finally enjoying ‘quidditch’ enough to put his sodding book down every once in a while, well, that was neither here nor there. 
So, the second that madame Hooch announced that tryouts for house teams would be starting in a few short weeks; you were hardly ever spotted around the common room anymore. 
Any time there was a free moment, one could bet you’d be down at the pitch - or even elsewhere on the grounds - with a broom underneath you and your eyes peeled for the wiley little snitch. And anytime you were found at the pitch? Well, one could bet James and Sirius would be too.
….
… As was Remus. 
James was all too happy to finally have (enthusiastic and consensual) company in the mornings to comment on the fact that it had been nothing short of painstaking torture to extricate Sirius from his bed for quidditch practices before you had transferred to Hogwarts, or to comment on the fact that it had been nothing short of painstaking torture to extricate Remus from his bed on any given day before you had transferred to Hogwarts.
Because it appeared that they were all in agreement that, even if it had to be at six in the bloody morning, watching you experience the unbridled joy that Hogwarts and quidditch and magic could give you was the best place to be.
Sirius leaned casually against the railing flashing you the odd wink or holler of encouragement when you happened to look over at your admirers in the stands whilst James shouted pointers and cheered you on, basically hanging over the railing in much the same way you would when the roles were reversed.
And Remus?
Well, Remus usually had about three layers on, a hot cup of tea, and a book that laid untouched as he got to enjoy the view.
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obsessedwithceleste · 8 months
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Theodore Nott and the Fortress of Trust Issues: how to cast a patronus in 3 easy steps
Theodore Nott x reader
Summary: Theodore Nott had never been able to cast a patronus. In third year, when dementors were swarming the castle, of course he tried, but was never able to manage more than a whisp of soft silver. Come seventh year, he was painfully unsurprised when his efforts were once again lack luster. Turns out, with the right tutor, casting the formidable charm might not be as impossible as he thought.
word count: 3.8k
©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.
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Theodore glowered menacingly at the students below him chattering happily amongst themselves in the courtyard. A puff of smoke slipping through his lips as he leaned on the railing of the astronomy tower. Theo knew his life wasn’t exactly one that most would be envious of. Sure his family had money, power, but add on a mother who had died far before her time, and a death eater father whose attention it was far better to avoid? Theo laughed dryly to himself.
Theo knew he didn’t have many happy memories. Truly happy memories. He was painfully, excruciatingly, self aware. Still, nothing made it quite so glaringly obvious that his life was rather pathetic than broadcasting to his entire charms class his bitter inability to force even a wisp of silvery bloody smoke out of his bloody wand. Yes. Flitwick had finally found his weakness. That damned Patronus spell. Being one of the top students of his year, it was humiliating. It wasn’t even expected that most of the class would be able to cast a corporeal patronus, yet even Draco and Matteo of all people managed to produce soft billowy clouds of silvery magic.
Theo shook his head at the thought, trying to clear his mind. His eyes once again began gazing about the courtyard before landing on a lone figure sitting beneath a willow tree, hidden from view unless one was looking close enough. Theo brought his smoke to his lips once more, inhaling deeply as he watched a burst of silver leave the tip of the girl’s wand. His eyes darkened with envy, remembering the words of his professor from earlier that day.
“Wonderful, y/n. Just wonderful! A fox! Withdrawn when necessary, but natural adaptors. Embodying intelligence, independence, mischief, and beauty. A unique patronus indeed.”
His eyes narrowed as he watched the silver creature trot happily through the air before turning and dropping his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it harshly. With one last glance at the girl sitting awestruck with her silvery companion, he descended down the stairs, determined to spend the rest of his night, moping in peace.
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Step 1: Find a Pretty Tutor (read: have a tutor forced upon you under the threat of a failing grade.)
“What do you mean a tutor? You of all people?” Matteo laughs mercilessly as Theo scowls at him. “Can’t believe I’m doing better than you in a class, you must be bloody miffed.”
Theo tuned out his friend’s laughter as he continued to glower at the floor in front of him. The two boys currently sat in the Slytherin common room as Theo hastily tried to finish up his ancient runes homework before dragging his arse to the library to meet his supposed tutor. Matteo was making this quite difficult however as he continued to poke fun at the boy, rattling on about how, for once, Theo had had the nerve to not be good at something. The horror.
Snapping his textbook closed and sliding it into his book bag, Theo began gathering his things, choosing to forego the blasted assignment.
“Aww, have fun with you little tutor Teddy. Maybe it’ll be that foxy Ravenclaw you’re always staring at. Bit ironic that her patronus is a fox innit?” Matteo teases as he watches his friend’s jaw clench at the mention of the pretty girl.
While perhaps Matteo wasn’t the most entirely perceptive of the bunch, it would take a blind man to not notice Theodore’s eyes flicker over to the group of Ravenclaws throughout their shared charms class.
“Shut up Matt. Shouldn’t you be shagging Astoria in a broom closet somewhere?” He grunts out.
Matteo smirks, knowing he’d found a tick, but deciding to leave it for another time.
“Not a bad idea mate, see you later. You’ll have to tell Enzo and I all about your tutoring session tonight,” he says with a wink before sauntering off towards the girl’s dormitories.
With a heavy sigh, Theo began making his way slowly towards the library, silently cursing Professor Flitwick as he recalled their conversation from earlier that day.
Class was finally wrapping up for the day and Theo was about ready to bolt out of that blasted classroom, but Flitwick had other ideas.
“Mr. Nott? A word?” He’s called from his grand podium in the center of the room.
The summons had garnered a few raised eyebrows and surprised looks from his fellow classmates, and Theo had trudged solemnly up to the professor.
“I couldn’t help but notice that you appeared to have had some difficulty today,” the professor and stated rather bluntly after all the other students had shuffled out.
Theo blinked back up at his professor.
“You do understand of course, that I cannot grant marks for a spell you did not perform?” He asks finally.
Theo once again stares blankly back at the professor.
Appearing to grow uncomfortable under the boy’s steady, unwavering gaze, Flitwick lets out a deep sigh.
“Mr. Nott. I’m aware that you are quite the talented young wizard, and I simply do not want to have to give you low marks on an assignment I’m confident you could perform well on.”
Still nothing from the brown haired Slytherin.
“I’ve arranged for you to begin working with a tutor until you’re able to cast the spell.” He says finally.
Theo frowns. He’s never had a tutor before. Never needed one.
“Professor-“ he begins to protest.
“The two of you can begin later this evening. 8 o’clock in the library,” Flitwick interrupts before shooing him off to his next class.
Finally arriving outside the library doors, Theo made another look of distaste before pushing through the large double doors. His eyes gazed over the tables not entirely sure who he was looking for as the twat had never actually told him who would be tutoring him. He felt his body freeze momentarily when his eyes locked with another pair of bright eyes and he began silently cursing Matteo. The bloody fucking bastard had jinxed him.
You sat quietly at your table in the library, waiting for the clock to slowly hit 8 as you mindlessly worked away at your essay for ancient runes. During charms today, Flitwick had noticed one of your classmates have a particularly difficult time with the lesson and asked for you to guide them in the right direction. Not one to argue with your head of house, you’d easily agreed.
As the clock struck 8, you began casting quick glances every so often at the library doors, until suddenly you were locked in the gaze of none other than Theodore Nott. Surely he wasn’t the one you would be tutoring? You didn’t know the boy particularly well, but you did know that he was a fierce competitor for top of the class in most of your other lessons. You watched silently as he made his way over to your table, offering him a small smile.
“Charms?” He asks, tossing his bag onto the table with a gentle thud.
You give him a slight nod, eyeing his tall figure as he sat lazily across from you.
“Well I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’ll be wasting your time. Never been able to cast the damn spell. Probably never will,” he says, leaning back on the chair, eyes not wavering.
You purse your lips. Looking at the handsome boy in front of you.
“I suppose you’ll just have to trust me then, won’t you?” You reply, a challenging tone apparent in your voice.
The boy smirks at this, cocking his head as if really getting a good look at you for the first time before finally replying, “I’ve never been particularly trusting.”
“Well then I guess you’ll be learning all sorts of things.”
You take your charms book out of your bag, opening it to the reading you had been assigned earlier in the week. You glance up to see Theodore mirroring your actions silently.
“A patronus, is a concentration of pure happiness and hope, derived from the recollection of a single talisman memory which is essential in its creation,” you read, the underlined section of the textbook was one you had pre-selected as it was the concept most people struggled to grasp.
Watching Theo stiffen and clench his jaw slightly, you knew you were right.
“When someone is unable to cast a patronus, I’ve found it’s usually because they haven’t figured out yet how to focus in on their talisman memory,” you continue.
“And if someone doesn’t have a talisman memory?” Theo’s voice interrupts.
You glance up at him in surprise.
“Everyone has a talisman memory. We just need to find it.”
“I don’t have one.” He insists.
“Then we’ll make one.”
The boy sighs in frustration. Fists clenching as he glares at the textbook in front of him.
“It might not be as complicated as you’re making it. I know when Flitwick was in class, he made it seem like your talisman memory had to be a big, grande gesture, or a clear moment of inexplicable joy. But I think the little moments count too. Everyone has been happy at least once,” you say, watching as Theo slowly relaxes.
“What do you think about?” He asks, before quickly back tracking “You don’t have to answer that.”
“All sorts of things really,” you reply, offering another small smile. “When I got my first wand at Ollivander’s. Honeydukes with the rest of the Ravenclaws. Playing quidditch. Specially that time we beat Gryffindor.”
Theo snorts at that, a small grin reaching his lips.
“Point is, it doesn’t matter how small the moment is, long as it made you happy.”
You’re met with silence, as Theo continues to stare down at his textbook, a look a deep contemplation on his face.
“Think that’s enough for today. Flitwick said to keep up the sessions until you’re at least able to cast an incorporeal patronus, so, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Theo nods his head, still not meeting your gaze.
“Does 6 o’clock on the lawn work?” You ask, only to be met with another nod.
Sensing the boy needed a bit of space, you quickly gathered your things before leaving the boy to his thoughts.
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Step 2: Accidentally Fall In Love with Your Tutor (if you weren’t half way there already.)
You sit staring out at the vast lake in front of you, watching as the breeze pushed against the water, forming rolling waves across the surface and taking a deep breath in. You had been meeting Theodore here every day at 6 o’clock sharp for almost two whole weeks now, but you honestly weren’t sure if he’d show up today. Not that you’d blame him.
You felt as if you’d really failed him as a tutor after so many consecutive days of work, with nothing to show for it. On top of that, the two of you had gotten into a rather intense shouting match yesterday, the stress of the whole thing really getting to the both of you.
You lean back, laying down on the soft blanket below you, knees still propped up, and close your eyes, thinking back to the first time the two of you had met out in this very spot. You’d originally picked the spot, because it helped you clear your mind and you thought it might help clear Theo’s too.
That first day had been awkward. Almost painfully so. You had simply wanted to talk. Get to know the boy, pick his brain for any source of happiness or joy he might get out of life. You didn’t get much, so instead you talked about your own life. What it was like living in Ravenclaw tower, the time you and Cho had tried out together for the quidditch team. You told him how you had gone to the Yule ball with a big group of friends, and how you thought it was much better than going with some stuffy date, and how your favorite candies were the purple taffies from Honeydukes, and your favorite flowers were deadly poisonous despite their pretty and innocent appearance.
The second day, you borrowed Cho’s cat and brought her along to the meeting, thinking it might help further relax your brown haired companion. It did, so you brought her along the next day, and the day after that. It wasn’t until the fourth day that Theo broke. Sure he had told you a bit about his time at Hogwarts. Playing on Slytherin’s quidditch team. Sharing a dorm with Matteo Riddle and Lorenzo Berkshire. But on the fourth day, he told you about his mother. You weren’t expecting it, and it honestly had caught you wildly off guard. Theodore’s mother had been the light of his world, and after she was gone, you could understand why he thought he would never cast a patronus.
It went on like this, the two of you gradually becoming closer, as you carefully began building a sort of trust between the two of you. You thought you might even be becoming friends; which excited you as you’d never been quite able to stop your eyes from wandering over to the group of Slytherins in the back of the class, and stopping on the tall, brunette boy with pretty eyes. You tried every couple of days to cast the spell, guiding him through different memories, trying to focus in on different experiences. But still nothing. You had even tried inviting Matteo and Enzo to a session, hoping they’d help lighten his mood, but it only ended in the four of you skiving wildly off course and getting nothing done. You and Theo had laughed about it the next day, but still not even a whisp of silvery magic.
It had all come to a head yesterday. You could feel the two of you beginning to lose hope, but you were nothing if not determined. The two of you were sitting quietly, skimming the textbook for what seemed like the thousandth time, when Theo suddenly stopped and looked up at you.
“I read something the other day. Bout patronuses. And being able to cast em.”
You looked up from your reading, intrigued.
“Said that there’s a widespread, and justified, belief that witches and wizards who aren’t pure of heart can’t cast a patronus.”
Your mouth slowly formed an O shape, and the book you were holding dropped to the ground, completely forgotten.
“Theodore. You don’t honestly think. That’s ridiculous.”
“It makes sense doesn’t it? Why I can’t even cast an incorporeal charm. Why nothing we’ve tried works. There’s no point,” Theo had said, growing frustrated.
“Theodore stop. That theory is all nonsense. There isn’t even any evidence really to back it up,” you reply.
“Why else would nothing be working?” Theo asks, slamming his book on the ground.
“Theo!”
“No, y/n, honestly. What other explanation could there be. We’ve been doing this for weeks.” Theo’s voice began to rise.
“And we’ll continue until you’re able to get this.”
“What’s the bloody point? We’ve tried everything!”
“And we just need to try a bit harder!” You respond.
“You think I haven’t been trying?”
“Of course I know you’ve been trying! And I’ve been trying to do everything I can to help you succeed!”
“And everything I’ve been doing is for you! I don’t care about the bloody charm, I don’t want to disappoint you!”
Theo’s outburst had shocked you, and your breath hitched as the two of you stared at each other, Theo’s words sinking in.
Then he was kissing you. Hot lips working against yours as he pulled you onto his lap. Your fingers worked their way up to his hair, relishing in how soft his brown waves were as you tugged at them gently.
You let out a soft moan as you felt his tongue glide gently across your bottom lip before diving in at the opportunity you had provided him.
You seemed to get lost in the feeling of his soft lips and large hands around your waist holding you firmly in place. You had no idea how much time had passed by the time you were both panting for breath, foreheads resting against one another.
Seeming to really realize what he’d done, Theo looked down at you, eyes beginning to widen slightly.
“I’m so sorry, y/n,” he’d said before promptly rising and hastily making his way back to the castle.
Now, your finger tips softly brushed the soft leather of Theo’s book bag that he’d abandoned yesterday in his hurry to leave. You thought that maybe, if for no other reason, he’d perhaps come to retrieve it. Not that he needed to you thought dryly, knowing that with his Gringotts account, he could’ve easily already replaced it and its contents.
Sitting up, you glance at your time piece showing a quarter after 6. With a deep sigh, you fish your transfiguration textbook out of your bag, flipping it open to begin your assigned reading. You’re only a few pages in when a twig snaps somewhere behind you. Whipping around, you see him standing there, handsome as ever, looking down at you.
“Sorry I’m late. And, sorry for yesterday,” he mumbles, dropping down to sit next to you.
You eye him warily as he refuses to make eye contact with you, eyes appearing to be glazed over as he gazes out at the lake like you had been earlier.
Slowly, and ever so carefully, you shift next to him so that your arms and legs brush softly, and you gently lean your head against his shoulder as you join him in looking out at the water. You feel him tense initially before slowly relaxing, leaning in as the two of you sat in silence.
“I won’t give up, if you don’t,” you say finally as Theo’s hand finds yours.
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Step 3: Trust
It had been a week now since that day at the lake, and you weren’t quite sure where you stood anymore with Theo. You still met each other everyday by the lake, slipping easily into your usual banter. But now it was eyes meeting from across the classroom and slips of paper making their way back and forth. Your fingertips would brush softly in the hallways, and sometimes, you’d feel a hand reach out, pulling you into a hidden nook, and warm lips would meet your own. But you’d never actually, talked, about it.
You shake the thoughts out of your mind, a shiver running down your spine, as you focus in on the present. That all wasn’t the reason you once again found yourself lying out on the lawn, Theo’s head resting comfortably in your lap.
“Can you cast it?” Theo asks, looking up at you.
“Hmm?”
“Your patronus? Can you cast it? I know yours is a full, corporeal form.”
Looking down at the boy, your fingers weave slowly through his hair as you reach for your wand.
Closing your eyes and taking a breath, you focus in, memories flashing through your mind, a sense of warmth overtaking you.
“Expecto patronum.” The spell falls from your lips and you open your eyes to see a silver fox tumble out of the tip of your wand before trotting through the air around you.
You really did love the spell and it amazed and intrigued you every time. A reflection of someone’s soul, your textbook had said. It could change throughout one’s life, should they experience a shocking event, grow more mature, fall in love. The last one had always been the most curious, the idea of someone loving so much, that a piece of their soul reflected that of their loved one.
You watch as Theo’s eyes follow the the creature in awe.
“You know this is hopeless right?” Theo asks softly, your hand in his hair freezing.
“Theodore. We agreed that-“
“But really what’s the point? So I get one poor mark. When am I ever going to need to use the spell really? No point in wasting time on something that’s hopeless.”
You carefully mull over Theo’s words in your head. You supposed that realistically, he wasn’t necessarily wrong practicality wise. But if you both simply gave up, would he ever want to see you again? You knew in your core that it was selfish, but the last three weeks really had been some of the best during your time at Hogwarts. Which was saying a bit considering you’d been there for almost seven years. You supposed you’d just hoped- hoped. Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless. Hope. A concentration of pure happiness and hope.
“Theodore?”
“Amore?”
“When you’re thinking of your happy memory, why did you choose it?”
Theo gives you a strange look.
“Because it made me happy at the time, and the talisman memory is supposed to be a happy.”
“Good. But can you tell me why it’s so important to focus on a happy memory?”
Theo blinks.
“Because the spell says so.”
You let out a small laugh.
“Because the whole point of the charm is to create protection from the dark. Something that will keep you safe so that you can continue to feel that happiness. To give you hope.”
Theo furrows his eyebrows and frowns.
“This feels emotional.” He says, his face distorting in disgust.
“Sometimes magic is.”
Theo’s frown deepens. “It shouldn’t be. I’m perfectly content being apathetic and emotionally detached thanks.”
You let out a small snort. “Come on Theo. Try it again. But this time, think about your memory and why you want to feel that again.”
Theo’s face scrunches up in distaste before he sits up lazily, picking up his wand. You watch as he closes his eyes, pausing. His chest slowly rises then falls, once, twice.
“Expecto patronum.”
Nothing. Theo let’s put an annoyed sigh.
“Hey, it’s okay. You can try again. Think about something that you love, make sure you can picture it clearly. Something that made you so happy that you would relive it over and over.”
Theo’s eyes flick over to you, a brow raised before he closes his eyes once again. You watch him closely, perhaps too closely, as a minute passes. Then two. You’re almost worried he’s fallen asleep sitting up when the words fall from his lips.
“Expecto patronum.”
A burst of silver flashes out of his wand, and your jaw drops as your eyes follow the silver creature that had emerged, gracefully moving across the lawn.
Your eyes dart over to Theo, and you reach out to grab his arm seeing that he’d not yet opened his eyes again. When his eyes finally open once more, his gaze immediately falls on the whimsical creature, eyes widening slightly as he stares at his patronus in disbelief before looking at you with bewildered confusion.
“That’s not mine.” You tell him with a small smile, giving his arm a squeeze as you both look up at the silver fox dancing through the air.
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likedovesinthewindd · 2 months
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CLOSE TO YOU — a. donaldson
summary: your marriage to art has been on the rocks for months now, but he refuses to give up on it | content/warning: failmarriage au, arguing, undescribed marital issues, marriage counseling, mentions of divorce, angst to smut/fluff. | wc: ± 3370
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For as long as you've known Art, you never knew him as a quiet person. He was perhaps a little shy at first, but he was known for his outgoing personality amongst his friends and anyone who had the opportunity to an exciting conquest with him back in Standford, which admittedly was a handful.
He's changed somewhat since then, settled down, and created a successful yet comfortable life for himself, but he still stayed that same charming, outgoing man you fell in love with back in college.
You never knew Art to be a quiet person, which is why the silence that filled the car unnerved you so much.
You spared him a look from where you sat quietly in the passenger's seat; he didn't look mad, just very deep in thought as he held the steering wheel with a stiff, white-knuckling grip, eyes dead set on the stretch of road in front of him.
Usually, the silence would be filled by mindless chatter, Art always finding something to talk about, and if it was quiet, it would feel comfortable and light. Right now, it felt like there was some uncomfortable tension in the air, thick enough that you could cut it with a knife.
You sighed softly, resting your head on your palm as you chose to stare out the window, watching the various objects move past in a unanimous blur. Your thoughts circled back to today's session, your seventh one to be exact, and it felt like you have gotten nowhere with it. You'll also admit that it was partially because of you and your initial withdrawal to the whole situation.
Art was the one who suggested marriage counseling, in his way it might've been his last attempt at salvaging what was left of the marriage and because you were just as desperate for a solution, you agreed to it.
You had hoped that the tense atmosphere would dissipate by the time the two of you made it home, but by now you were getting ready for bed and he had still only spoken a few sentences to you. You were already underneath the sheets, rubbing lotion into your arms when he made his way into your bedroom, hair still wet and body still glistening from his shower.
You watched the way he moved around the room almost stiffly, watching the way his back muscles moved and contacted as he quietly dressed himself before he moved to sit at his side of the bed. He let out a soft sigh, and at the sound, you moved from beneath the sheets until you sat behind him, rubbing his back softly as your hand moved over the soft cotton of his shirt.
"Art," you said softly. He hummed, turning his head slightly as he looked at you over his shoulder. "You alright?" you asked, and he sighed again, nodding before he put his head in his hands. "I'm okay, just frustrated," he answered as he lifted his head again, hands smoothing his hair down before they dropped down to his knees. You moved back to your side of the bed, sitting on top of the sheets and crossing your legs as he turned his body, now facing you fully.
"I feel like the counseling isn't working," he said softly as he looked you at you, half scared at what your reaction would be. You bit the inside your cheek as he continued. "We've had several sessions, and it feels like we're still exactly where we started," he added, "It's also difficult when you're not cooperating." His voice was softer and tentative, like he was approaching a wild animal in distress with now idea of how it would react.
You frowned at his words. "What?" you asked. "You can't expect her to just know what's wrong if you don't talk. You're always so closed off at every session. What's the point of going if you're not gonna try and talk?" he asked. You sighed defeatedly, today's session (and those before) replaying in your head, making you cringe slightly at how uncomfortable and stressful the whole ordeal has been.
"I'm trying, Art," you said weakly, "but it's difficult just talking about our personal life to some stranger."
"Then how did you expect this to work? Why would you agree to this if you knew that's how you felt?" he asked, slight irritation now audible in his voice. "I don't know, I wanted to make you happy?" you said as you shrugged. A dry laugh left Art's mouth at your words. "To make me happy?" he asked in disbelief before he shook his head disapprovingly. "Y'know what would make me happy?" he asked, not waiting for a response before continuing. "I'd be so happy if you actually tried to fix our marriage, if you actually cared."
"I do care," you said, the same irritation in Art now reflecting in your own voice. "It doesn't look like it," he quickly retorted with a scoff. "How could you say that? That I don't care about our marriage?" you asked, watching as he angrily rubbed over his face, his gold wedding band catching your eyes. The sight of it made your stomach churn nervously, the idea that your marriage may be unsalvageable at this point, making you feel light-headed with anxiety. "I just miss the way things were," he spoke in a softer tone, "I just want us to be okay agian."
"I want that too, Art," you said softly as he nodded. "Then show it," he said, "show me that's what you want."
"How?" you asked, growing more frustrated at his defensiveness. "I want you to actually try with counseling," he answered, and you groaned loudly. "I am trying!" you said irritated, "I just need some time."
"We don't have time," he reasoned, "our marriage can't depend on whenever you feel like it." "That's not what I'm saying," you said angrily. "Why are you trying to make it look like I want our marriage to fall apart?"
"Because I don't think you're taking this seriously, this," he gestured between the two of you, "maybe it's beyond the point of fixing." As soon as Art saw the way your face changed at his words, felt the way the mood shifted completely, he wanted to swallow the words. But he was too angry, and now it was too late because he had already said it, and it already hammered the final nail into the coffin.
"What are you trying to say?" you asked softly, voice suddenly small. He didn't answer, his fingers nervously fidgeting with his wedding ring as he saw the hurt on your face. When it was clear you weren't going to get a response, you sighed defeatedly, grabbing your pillow before you wordlessly made your way to the guest bedroom.
⊹ ˚.
As you laid in the smaller bed that night, your head was reeling. The pit in your stomach made it impossible to fall asleep and every time you closed your eyes, your mind started torturing you with the sight of Art's exhausted and angry face staring back at you as he said the words you thought you'd never hear. The words both of you had feared for so long.
The door suddenly cracked open, light spilling in through the gap and shining onto your back as it faced Art, standing in the doorway as he watched your silhouette's soft breathing underneath the sheets. He quietly made his way into the room until he reached the edge of your bed, planting himself there softly as his hand gently rubbed over your arm.
He knew you weren't asleep, but he still kept his voice soft as he spoke into the quiet space. "Sweetheart?" he tried softly, hand gently pulling the blanket down your arm before he planted a kiss to your warm skin. A few more followed, his lips touching you tentatively. "Can we talk? Please?" he spoke against your skin, his breath tickling your arm and sending a shiver up your spine. Reluctantly, you turned around, propping yourself on your elbows as you looked up at him.
Art's first thought when he looked at you was that you looked so beautiful, the hallway's light catching your face and brightening your eyes as they stared at him with sadness still present in them. He could see the still wet tracks your tears had left behind, your eyes slightly puffy and nose stuffy. And even though he felt terrible — wanting the world to swallow him whole and banish him for ever making you cry, he still thought you looked so beautiful.
His hand held the side of your face gently, thumb wiping away the last remnants of tears as he stared at you wordlessly, silently rejoicing when you didn't push away his touch but welcomed it, eyes briefly closing when you felt the warmth against your skin. Art was always such a gentle lover, always so pliant ro your needs and caring, even now, after what you'd consider the biggest fight you've ever had.
"I'm so sorry for making you cry, baby," he said softly, watching the way you brows furrow at the memory of a while ago, willing yourself to not cry again. "I should've never said those terrible things to you. You didn't deserve that," he added, thumb still gently rubbing over the apple of your cheek.
You took a deep breath as you tried to find the right words in your head. "Do you really think I don't care about our marriage, Art?" you asked softly, voice scratchy from crying. Art immediately shook his head vehemently, frowning at your words. "No, of course not," he said, the other hand joining as he now held your face in his full grasp, "I was just— I was angry, and I wanted to get back at you. It was childish and mean, and I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I feel awful,"
You took ahold of his wrist, relishing in his warmth and presence as you felt yourself finally calming down. "I'm sorry too," you said softly, your thumbs rubbing over his wrists as you held him close. "No, you don't have to apologize," he said, pulling your face closer to yours and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You wanted to sob at how gently he treated you. "No Art, I was—"
"Let me show you how sorry I am," he spoke, kissing down your cheek, along your jaw and down your neck. His lips quickly found that special spot behind your ear that made you shiver. He moved impossibly closer to you, wrapping his arms around your body as you held the back of his head. Before you could completely lose yourself in the feeling of his body molding itself to yours, you found your voice of reason. "Art, we should probably—" you started in what would would've been a weak protest, but he interrupted you.
"Let me do this for you, please," he pleaded as he pulled away from your neck and gently placed his forehead against yours, big blue eyes set on you with an almost desperate look. His grip on you tightened ever so slightly, and even if you wanted to do the logical thing and rather sit down like two adults and talk things out, the dull ache between your legs was drowning out any reasonable thoughts you may have had.
You only nodded, and Art didn't waste a second more, lips pressing to yours in a kiss that was desperate and sloppy and filled with passion. He moaned into your mouth when you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to greedily lick inside your mouth.
Art lightly pushed forward until you were lying flat on your back and he found his place between your spread legs. The silky fabric of your nightdress rode up your thighs as you spread your legs further apart to make space for his broad figure, leaving him with the sight of your lavender colored cotton panties, the small damp spot in the center making him a little breathless.
He continued kissing you dumb, his hands feeling and grabbing every part of you as if he was trying to refamiliarize himself with the territory that is your soft body. His mouth once again found its place on your neck, burying his nose into the skin there and smelling the magnolia and coconut of your lotion. His mouth found your sweet spot once again, and he sucked and bit at the area greedily. Your legs clamped together at the feeling, obstructed by his hips that were steadily grinding down onto yours, creating a delicious friction that had you feeling delirious.
"Take off your shirt, Art," you managed through soft mewls, hands already lifting the material by his stomach. He rose quickly, taking the shirt off in one quick pull over his head. You were mesmerized by the way his lithe muscles moved, exposing himself to you as the ajar door cast his beautifully pale body in a soft yellow glow.
You propped yourself onto your right arm as your left hand moved up the hard plains of his stomach, enjoying the feeling of every ridge and muscles underneath your palm. He grabbed onto your hand, bringing it to his mouth as he planted a soft kiss to each knuckle, lips lingering on your wedding ring before opening your hand to kiss the inside of your palm.
He kissed down your arm, his lips leaving a hot trail behind and setting your whole body alight. Your head dropped back down onto the pillow as his mouth was now on your collarbones, kissing and biting there as his hands moved up your body until they got ahold of your tits. He squeezed the soft mounds of flesh in his big hands, pressing them together before pressing more kisses to the sliver of skin poking out from the cups of your nightdress. You placed one of your hands over his, encouraging him to tighten his grip as you arched into his touch. He obeyed, giving them a harder squeeze this time and gawking at the way you moaned softly, nodding happily as he fondled your tits.
Suddenly, they were met with the cold air of the bedroom as Art harshly pulled down the straps of your dress, exposing your pretty tits to him before his mouth was your left breast and his left hand went to softly massage the other.
You further arched into the feeling of his mouth on you, holding him to you by the back of his head, fingers curling into the soft blond locks there and pulling on them whenever he gave you a particularly harsh suck.
"Art," you moaned quietly as your hips bucked into his, shivering at the just there stimulation to your clit. His mouth detached from your breast before he was moving up to kiss you again, almost doubling over at the way you moaned into his mouth as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
He pulled away too quick for your liking, looking down at you as his nose nudged against yours. "What do you want?" he asked breathlessly, hips still rolling into yours at a pace too slow to really get you over that peak but enough to keep you on the edge of it. "Tell me what you want, baby. I wanna give it to you. Y'know I'd give you whatever you need," he asked again. "Y'know what I want, Art," you practically whined, and he smiled, giving you another quick kiss before he was moving down your body.
Soon, he was face to face with your pretty panties, staring right at the now significantly bigger wet spot as you spread your legs wider. He placed a soft kiss over your panties, right on your mound before he placed another kiss right over your drenched hole, which clenched around nothing when he finally placed a kiss right over your clit. He looked up to find you already peering down at him, eyes desperate and pleading as you softly scratched the back of his back of his head, trying to urge him on.
He was quick to rip the ruined fabric off of you, throwing it somewhere in the half lit room before he grabbed your legs by the back of your knees to bring them over his shoulders. The first feeling of his mouth on you had you gasping, the sound ending in an abrupt moan as you felt him licking through your folds.
He ate you out like a man starved, moaning into your pussy every time you pulled at his hair, the vibrations only adding to the heavenly feeling. He licked into you like it was pure honey, tongue dipping into your wet hole and lapping up all of your juices.
When his mouth found your clit and sucked lightly, rolling the small pearl over his tongue, he had you seeing stars, babbling praises through broken moans. You were essentially just using his pretty face to get off, nose nudging against your clit as you basically rode his face, and he'd let you every time.
His own hips were pushing into the mattress below, looking for any bit of relief as he watched the way your face twisted in pleasure. The sight alone had him throbbing painfully, and he had to stop himself from coming in his boxes like a teenager.
He was absolutely starstruck at how beautiful you looked when you came, eyes still on you as he lapped at your pussy hungrily as you practically humped his face, riding out your orgasm before you went boneless and you pulled at his hair with a small whine, telling him you were overstimulated. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he planted kisses as he moved back up your body, up your sternum, and between the valley of your breasts before his lips found yours again.
"So fucking beautiful," he spoke against your lips as he kissed you sloppily, "prettiest girl in the world. I'm so lucky to call you mine." You smiled against his mouth, hand moving down his body until you softly touched him over the material of his boxers. He moaned, hips thrusting into your hand as you tightened your grip on him. "Art," you whispered, hoping he'd get the message, which he did, thankfully. He hastily pushed his boxers off before he was gripping himself at the base and lining himself up at your entrance.
The stretch felt otherworldly, just the right amount of pressure without it actually hurting, thanks to how wet you already were. His was knocking the breath out of you, but your greedy pussy kept sucking him in until you were full to the brim. The both of you took a few deep breaths as Art's head dropped to your neck, planting soft kisses there as he waited for you to adjust.
When you indicated you were ready, he pulled out just a little before he was pushing back into you again. He grabbed the backs of your knees as he brought your legs higher up on his hips. There was nothing too special about the position as Art slowly fucked you in missionary, but it still felt so good. Everything with Art always felt so good, he always made you feel so good, and you were already seeing stars as he slowly fucked into you.
You held him close to you, relishing in his warmth as he babbled mindlessly. "God, I love you so much," he said, "M'so sorry I was so mean to you. I don't deserve you. Love you so much. Love this pussy too, love everything about you."
"I love you too, baby," you said breathlessly through a small laugh that turned into a moan when he hit that special spot inside you. "Oh baby, right there. Right there, fuck," you exclaimed, "I'm so close."
His hand moved down your body until he reached your pussy, finding your clit and rubbing gently. He hissed when he felt you clench around his dick, sucking him right back in every time he pulled out. "M'gonna cum, please don't stop baby," you moaned, bolts of pleasure shooting up you spine as you arched your back, tits pressing against Art's taunt chest.
He was in complete awe of you; watching the way your mouth parted in a soundless moan as the last wave of plessure washed over you. He kept his eyes on you as you came, watching the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head as a few short breaths and then a gasp left your pretty lips. The sight beneath him paired with the way your pussy was sporadically tightening around him was enough to send him over the edge as well, and a few short thrusts later he cumming right along you.
He practically collapsed on top of you, still shifting most of his weight as to not crush you, but you welcomed it, humming happily as he laid his head against your chest as the two of you caught your breath. After a few moments, he lifted his head, planting a kiss to your damp forehead, watching the way you smiled with your eyes still closed. He pulled out slowly, apologizing softly when you gave light protest, before he made his way to the bathroom.
You opened your eyes, blinking away the white splotches in your vision as you took a deep breath. Art returned with a hot towel, quietly cleaning you up and fixing your nightdress before he was lifting you into his arms and carrying you to your shared bedroom.
He held you close to him, arm wrapped around you as you as you laid with your head on his chest, listening to the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat. "I'm gonna try and open up a little more in our next session," you spoke up in the silence, "I want this to work out for us." Art kissed the top of your head. "We'll go at whatever pace, there's no rush. I shouldn't have made you feel like there ever was," he spoke against your hair before he pulled away. You turned your head so that you were looking at him.
For a moment you had almost asked him if he really thought you'd be able to fix this marriage, but you didn't want to disturb the peace, so you just gave him a small smile, kissing his chest before you placed your head back down, drifting to sleep to the sound of his heartbeat.
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