#evan peters oneshots

[american-horror-whore]

SICK DAY — evan peters ᥫ᭡.

a/n. requested ୨ৎ

warnings. adult content, nsfw, cunnilingus, hair pulling, gentle oral sex

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐥𝐲, watching Evan waltz into the bedroom. His large hands held a bowl that was filled to the brim with chicken noodle soup.

“There you go, baby..” Evan sighed, placing the bowl down on your nightstand. You turn your head weakly, staring at the white, ceramic bowl, steam rising up in small streams into the air, releasing the smell of the classic sick-day food. The dim lighting of your room reflected off the ceramic, making the atmosphere all the more cozy, even if you were sick.

The bedroom smelled of cold medicine, essential oils, and now chicken noodle soup. The large windows in the bedroom showed a beautiful view of the city’s skyline, giving you something to look at as you slowly rotted away with the vicious cold/flu-like sickness you had acquired from a coworker.

Evan placed the back of his hand on your forehead, the veins in his hands pushing against the abnormally warm flesh of your forehead. He hummed in a slightly concerned ton, putting his hand palm-down against your forehead, his thumb tracing slowly back and forth against your hairline.

“How’re you feelin’ chica?” Evan asked, using a nickname he’s had for you since you two started dating. You attempted to answer him, but he obviously wouldn’t be able to understand a sea of unintelligible “mnnn..”s and “bleh..”s.

“…shitty…” You manage to mutter out over all other things deemed incoherent. Evan placed a kiss to your forehead, his soft lips brining a cold fake-out feeling to your skin. You knew his lips weren’t actually cold. But it was a stark contrast to your body burning up like the Sahara Desert.

“Mm…I know, babe..” He cooed softly, kissing your forehead once again. You whined, your fingers pawing around his face. The pads of your fingers felt the semi-coarse feeling stubble that he was starting to grow, due to having to constantly take care of you these past days, which meant he had no time to shave.

Evan’s kisses trailed down your temples to your neck, opening and closing his mouth against your skin. You let out a soft moan, lolling your head back a bit. He slipped his hands under your hoodie, prying it up a little so his hands could run over your stomach. He pulls the hoodie from your body, gently as to not hurt you or jostle you around too much. Evan hooked his fingers in your sweatpants, pulling them down to your ankles as he started to speak.

”Any position you want, babe. Name it and we’ll do it..” Evan murmured huskily, kissing at your thighs. He lays on his stomach, gently guiding your legs over his shoulders.

Evan kisses you through your panties, nuzzling his nose against your clothes clit. He nipped your inner thighs, sucking roughly on the skin. When he pulled away, a small hickey already had started to form.

“…Whatever you want..” You murmured back, your hands going down to his hair. You tangled the brown locks with your fingers, intertwining but not pulling yet.

“Well I wanna keep you laid down…You don’t need to do a ton of moving around..” Evan said, pressing a small kiss to your cunt. He pulled one hand down, spreading your lips open, making them separate with a wet, vulgar sound. Evan pushed the tip of his tongue inside, swirling shallowly just far enough into your entrance before pulling back.

Evan spit on the tips of his finger, sliding them up and down your slit. You let out a shaky whine, silently pleading with him to keep going as you tugged gently on his hair.

“Agh, fuck…” Evan groaned gruffly, flicking his tongue up and down against your clit. he took the small bud into his mouth, sucking gently on it. He swirled his tongue around the happy little bundle of nerves before pushing it out of his mouth, sucking on the entirety of your pussy now. He pushed his tongue in and out of your hole, bending his tongue up inside of you to make you feel the maximum amount of pleasure. You tense your muscles, squeezing your eyes shut as you grabbed at his curls.

“Fuck-!!” You squeal, closing your legs around his head. He groans, his hands quickly going to your thighs as he continued to eat you out.

His tongue flicked against you once more, starting at the bottom of your cunt, drawing a wet line up to your clit, which received a few kisses. Evan nuzzled his face against you, breathing you in. “You doing okay..?”

You nod weakly. You loved it when he did this. When he took care of you, tried his hardest to take your mind off of being sick..You loved him. You were pulled out of your blissful thoughts of praise as you felt him hit that good spot. Your muscles tensed, your fingers clenched in his hair. And then you came, your orgasm crashing over you as harshly as it possibly could, making your already sickly body shudder. You let out a sharp moan, the loudest noise you’ve made yet.

Evan chuckled throatily licking another line from the bottom of your slit up to your clit, collecting that sweet, sugary substance, tasting of hints of honey and sin. He sighed, exhaling against your skin before continuing to clean you up.

“You’re so good..You feel better, chica..?” He chuckled softly, resting his head on your lower stomach. You nod, your eyes fluttering shut as you sighed, your chest heaving softly. Evan smiled, wiping his mouth as he sat up. He readjusted you, slipping your panties and hoodie back on. He held your hips, moving you carefully into a sitting position, holding that ceramic bowl of chicken noodle soup.

“Let’s get you eating something, baby..” Evan smiled, grabbing the spoon in the bowl.

taglist. @fear-is-truth @dangeroustaintedflawed @newwavesylviaplath @coentinim @lacucarachapisser @evansonlylove @dearlizzies @oceanblvd111 @foreverviolets @emmasshitblog @jazz-berry @xrag-dollx @taintandviolent @colinzabelswife @marchsfreakshow @evanpeterspeter @whosbloom @redroses07 @lemoniiiiiii @partypoisxn @evanpetersbf @ultraviolamb @jdnymos

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[flowersforbucky]

sucker for you

peter maximoff x reader

word count: 1.2k

i can't stop thinking about how peter would react to reader taking his lollipop from him and putting it in her mouth so here's a little drabble about that

a/n: i should be working on this bucky piece that i started like 3 weeks ago but i just needed to get this out of my system first

warnings/tags: language, use of alcohol (everyone is 21+!!), no use of y/n, peter's pov, and some ✨️tension✨️

Peter didn't know it was possible to get so flustered over a human being.

He's never exactly considered himself to be a ladies man, but around you? He's hopeless. A lost cause. Every time he's near you, it feels like his first very day ever interacting with another person.

From the way that your smile reaches your eyes whenever he makes you laugh with a stupid joke to the way that you always smell sweeter than the candy that he eats too much of, he's been a goner for you since the day he first met you.

And the worst part? You seem to know exactly how to make him blush.

As per usual on Friday nights, yours and Peter's group of friends is hanging out in the woods behind the mansion. You're all lounging around a bonfire that Scott works to keep going strong, talking amongst yourself in pairs.

"You know, I heard Warren telling Scott that he's planning on asking you to the winter gala," Jean snickers to you.

Peter isn't trying to eavesdrop, really. Jean just has zero volume control when she has any amount of alcohol in her system. He'd be able to hear every word she's saying even if you and her weren't sitting right next to him.

"What?" Jean demands when you offer no response other than some giggles and a shake of your head. "You've already turned two people down. You're kinda running low on options at this point.”

He twists the stem of the cherry flavored lollipop that he's sucking on, trying and failing to focus on whatever it is that Kurt's rambling on about. His body is angled away from yours, but he can feel the vibration of your low laughter from where your shoulder rests against his.

Peter had heard that you've been asked to the gala that Charles throws in the name of the X-Men every year. He couldn't lie, he was relieved when he'd found out that you had shot down the suitors - not that he'd ever have the balls to ask you himself. He had no desire to be added to the list of people that you've rejected to a glorified prom.

“So? I can go alone. Going alone is better than going with anyone who isn't the person that I actually want to go with,” you answer with a shrug of your shoulders.

Peter tenses at your words, his stomach doing a somersault.

“And who would that be?” Jean asks in a teasing voice, almost like she already knows the answer.

Before you can respond, Peter quickly shoots to his feet. Kurt comes to a sudden stop in the middle of a sentence, and both you and Jean turn to look up at him from where you still sit on the old, fallen tree that is being used as a bench.

“Where're you going?” You ask. Peter knows it's probably wishful thinking, but he can't help but think that there's a hint of disappointment in your voice.

“Back to the mansion. I've gotta take a whiz,” he retorts, hoping he sounds casual. Truthfully, he can't stand the thought of having to hear you say some dude's name in response to Jean's question.

“Since when are you above pissing in the woods?” Scott laughs as he piles some more branches onto the bonfire.

Peter shoots him an obscene gesture, about to bolt in the direction of the mansion when he feels your hand wrap around his from beneath him. You begin to get up, and he instinctively helps pull you into a standing position.

“I'll walk back with you,” you tell him as you drop his hand. “I'm going to grab a few more beers.” You smile at him in the orange glow of the fire and he forgets how to speak. He motions as if to say after you and you begin walking in the direction of the mansion.

He's fully aware that he could have the two of you back to the school in a split-second, but despite how nervous he gets around you, he'd never pass up the opportunity to spend a few moments alone with you. Living here, you're both almost always surrounded by other people. If it's not Jean, it's Storm. If it's not Storm, it's Raven or Hank. If it's it's not –

“I just had to get away from that,” you sigh when the two of you are out of earshot from the others. “I love her, but Jean can be kind of relentless,” you add with a small laugh.

“You can say that again,” he agrees, his voice mumbled from the lollipop stuffed between his teeth and his check. “Just the other day she was saying that I should ask someone.”

“Yeah?” You quip, a curious edge to your tone. “And are you going to?”

“Nah,” Peter shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Like you said, it's better to go alone than to go with someone who isn't the person you really like.”

“So what's stopping you from asking her? Is she already going with someone else?”

“No,” he answers, coming to a stop in the middle of the moonlit path the two of you are walking on. “She's not. But she's already turned down basically everyone in the school, so I don't think I stand much of a chance.”

Sometimes Peter starts a sentence without knowing where it’s going, but right now even he's shocked by his words. He's not quite sure where the bravery came from, but he can't exactly take it back now. You're not stupid - he knows you can read between the lines to deduce who he's talking about.

You come to a halt, turning back to look at him. He offers a small, nervous smirk and resists the urge to dash away before you can reply to his confession.

“Three people isn't basically everyone in the school,” you chuckle with one of those grins that could bring Peter to his knees. You take a few slow steps towards him, stopping when your chest is just inches from his. Your gaze flickers from his eyes and down to his mouth before you reach a hand up to his face and pinch the stem of his lollipop between your thumb and index finger, plucking it from his mouth.

His eyes widen in surprise, all but bulging out of his head when you pop what's left of the red lollipop into your own mouth. You swirl it around in your mouth, your plump lips wrapped around the stick.

“But for what it's worth, the whole school could ask me and there's only one person who would get a yes out of me.”

You pull the lollipop from between your lips and hold it back up to Peter's mouth, resting it against his bottom lip until he parts them - to speak or to accept the sucker, he's not sure. But he doesn't do anything to stop you when you guide it back inside his mouth, the flavor of the cherry candy and your saliva infiltrating his senses when it meets his tongue.

“Just in case you were wondering,” you shrug, and turn to continue your walk back to the mansion as if you didn't just make his heart combust in his chest.

He speeds after you, deciding that maybe Jean has a point - maybe he should ask someone after all.

•••••

thanks for reading! this was my first time writing for peter, i'd very much appreciate comments/reblogs 💕

[moonysweetheart]

.☘︎ ݁˖ New Beginnings 🏠︎

☆⋆ MASTERLIST ☆⋆

summary: when Remus and Yn moved to a house near his parents. Remus realised he, Yn, their friends, and their baby on the way were beginning a new chapter on life.

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

warnings: none I believe, mentions of pregnancy

word count: 937

“No, James! That box goes in the other room!” screamed the girl.

“Which one?” the boy shouted back.

“The one opposite the kitchen!”

“Oh, okay. Thanks, Dorcas!”

A loud thud was heard. Lily and Marlene exchanged amused, knowing glances.

“Be careful not to break their things, Potter!” Lily called out.

“I will, my love!” he yelled back, only for the sound of a box knocking against a wall to follow, causing his friends to erupt into laughter.

“Here,” Sirius announced, breathing heavily. “The last box.”

“Thanks, Siri,” Y/N said gently, giving two pats on his back. He smiled at her in return.

“You’re welcome, dovey.”

“I thought I already had a chat with you about that, Padfoot,” Remus muttered, appearing out of nowhere—or so Sirius thought.

Remus arched his eyebrows, his expression challenging, almost threatening, though Sirius knew it was a joke. “Only I can call her ‘dovey.’”

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, my good man, I was only being a gentleman.”

“No, you were being shameless.” Sirius grinned smugly at that.

“Come on, boys! I need your help organizing everything!” Y/N shouted.

“Sorry, but remind me again why you don’t just use a spell to arrange the house?” Sirius asked.

“Because Y/N wanted to move next to my parents, so my mother can help her during the pregnancy. And the Muggles would probably pass out if they saw such a thing,” Remus replied matter-of-factly.

“Just close the doors.”

“We haven’t put up the curtains yet, the windows are huge, and the only door that isn’t glass is the front one.”

“Riiight,” Sirius said mockingly, singing the word under his breath.

“Oh my God,” Lily gasped, smiling widely as Dorcas giggled behind her.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Marlene asked as she entered the room, the boys trailing behind her.

"The baby is kicking," Y/N chuckled, beaming with happiness. Remus swore his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her radiant smile as their eyes met.

“I am the luckiest wizard of our time,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, but just loud enough for James and Sirius to hear. The two men exchanged a satisfied glance.

“Come,” Y/N gestured for Remus to approach. “He likes it when you’re close.” And so he did.

The afternoon passed in a blur of laughter, jokes, and stolen moments. Dorcas found an old camera in one of Remus’s boxes and took countless photos of them, their goofy, happy faces captured forever—memories of a home. By mid-afternoon, a strong rain began to fall, and Y/N convinced everyone to stay.

“Please, it’s our first day in our house,” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “H-o-u-s-e,” she spelled out, grinning like a child. “Not an apartment.” She jumped again. “A house.”

“I think they get it, love,” Remus said gently, watching her with an affectionate smile.

“I know, but I like saying it. And it’s only fitting that our friends spend our first day here with us.” She clapped her hands as a new idea struck her. “We can recount Hogwarts memories, play some games, and take more photos. We may be adults now, but we aren’t soulless.”

“She’s right!” Marlene called from the couch.

“See?” Y/N arched an eyebrow at Remus, who found himself smiling yet again. How could he not? She was light itself.

“And Peter is almost here,” James added.

“He really saved himself from all the hard work,” Sirius barked out a laugh.

“Let him be,” Lily scolded, hugging James at her side. “He’s in love, and his girlfriend needed him for an appointment.”

“Huh, he’d be a terrible boyfriend if he left her alone,” Dorcas muttered, examining a toy car Y/N had received from her in-laws.

“That’s right,” Marlene agreed.

“Excuses and more excuses,” Sirius declared dramatically, making his way to the kitchen to grab more food.

And so, they decided to have what Dorcas called a ‘pajama party.’ Blankets were strewn across the living room floor, and they resolved to sleep together just as they had in their Hogwarts days. Despite Remus’s concerns, Y/N insisted she would be fine.

“If anything, I’ll whisper in your ear when they’re all asleep so you can take me back to our room,” she murmured against his ear. He rolled his eyes playfully.

“Alright, madam.”

And just like that, they spent the night wrapped in memories, teasing, and warm embraces—like a family should.

Y/N never did ask to go to their bedroom, instead falling asleep on Remus’s chest. He couldn’t have been prouder.

Lily and James were entangled as always, a locket around her neck revealing a photo of their two-year-old son, Harry, who was currently at his grandparents’ house. On James’s wrist—the same arm wrapped around Lily’s waist—was the wristband Harry had made for him.

Dorcas and Marlene slept side by side, while Sirius, sprawled at their feet, had Marlene’s right foot nearly on his cheek. In his chest, curled in his hands, lay a small rat—Wormtail.

They were such a beautiful family, and Remus could not have been happier. Nor could he have been more excited about his new life and the fresh chapter ahead—next to the love of his life, in the home of their dreams, near his parents, and awaiting the arrival of their child.

A happy new beginning awaited them.

Hi, everyone! I've been really busy these past few days, but I'll do my best to stay active here. Kisses to you all!

If any of you would like to be on my tag list, just let me know. You can leave a comment or reply via my 'ask me something' button.

Take care! Bye!

[sun-kissy]

heyyyy do you think you could write a James blurb where reader hangs with Severus and Lily (she's a Snape but it's not really common knowledge as she's a few years younger) and everyone thinks James likes to come around for Lily but it's actually for the reader? I love your work btw!!!

yes, of course!! and thank you ♡

beautiful | j.p.

tw: fluff

snape!reader, james potter x reader

A frustrated sigh escapes Severus’ lips as you flick a petal at him for what seems like the umpteenth time that evening. You can feel the quivers in Lily’s body from where you’re laying on her lap as she laughs.

O.W.L.S. had just ended for your brother and best friend, so you dragged them down to your usual spot beneath the silver-leafed tree for a picnic. Lily was concentratedly twining vines together, crafting a daisy crown.

The light breeze caused her auburn hair to cover her face as she worked, the sun hitting her face in all the right places. She looked like some sort of heavenly wood nymph, you thought as you stared up at her. She was really really pretty.

Meanwhile, Severus was engrossed in some old, weathered-down potions book - furiously scribbling down notes for god-knows-what. Your legs were propped up on his lap as you threw the petals which occasionally fell from Lily’s flower crown at him. His expression was growing more cross by the second.

Your brother starts to grumble at you under his breath as a petal drifts straight into his nostril. A giggle bubbles out of you as he sneezes and the petal shoots out his nose, not missing the huff of annoyance he let out.

“If mother hadn’t instructed me to take care of you,” he mutters, a hint of irritation in his tone as he rubs his nose, “I would’ve tossed you into the black lake already.”

Lily grins, flicking your forehead as you bat your eyelashes at him playfully. “You love me.”

“Lies.”

“You bought me a whole bag of chocolate last weekend!”

“That was merely because-”

Your brother’s rambling comes to a halt, his eyes suddenly narrowing as he glares at something across the field of grass. His mouth twists up into a disgruntled frown.

You follow his line of vision to see none other than James Potter stumbling towards your clique, casting dirty looks at his friends behind him as they urge him towards you.

A sigh escapes you before you can even think about it. It annoyed you greatly, whenever James came crawling after you all like a desperate dog, just for the sake of Lily.

That was all it was, you tried to convince yourself. You told yourself that the acidic burning sensation of your heart in your chest was just because it was frustrating how obsessed he was, how his eyes lit up whenever they landed on Lily, how he stumbled over his words whenever he was near.

He was annoying, a stupidly beautiful wanker with an achingly gorgeous smile and eyes so bright they could rival the stars.

But you knew why you really hated him, and it frustrated you immensely. You despised him for liking Lily, hated his guts for not liking you instead. It was sickening, the way he gazed at her. And it was even more disgusting how envy took ahold of your entire being when that happened.

It gutted you, whenever you saw him looking at your best friend with heart-eyes. But it was obvious why - she was everything a guy could ever want, and she was a perfect girl for the golden boy. How could you even think about rivalling her?

What upset you the most, though, was how Lily always seemed to ignore him, looking away and rolling her eyes when his eyes met hers. You wanted to shake her, yell at her for being so ungrateful and wrack some sense into her brain. But all you did was stare quietly at the ground whenever James was near, zoning out so you didn’t have to hear the sickeningly mushy stuff which surely poured out his mouth in front of Lily.

So it was an understatement to say that your heart stopped when you heard your name coming out his mouth. You furrow your eyebrows, snapping back to the present as you press your palms down on the grass to lift your head from Lily’s lap. “What?”

James was looking at you anxiously now, with that glimmer in his eyes and a nervous smile. “Y/n, I um… I asked if you’d like to go to Hogsmeade with me? Tomorrow?”

You blink, the cogs still turning in your head. It was unfathomable, James Potter asking you out. Surely, it had to be a joke or a dare or something. Or maybe he meant to ask Lily, that was probably it. He had just asked the wrong person and was too nice to go back on his word, right?

“But you like Lily!” you blurt out immediately, a pang of hurt overwhelming you, for both you and your best friend. James’ eyebrows bunch up in puzzlement, his lips slowly twisting up into an almost comical smile. “Lily? You think I like Lily?”

You were sure you’d get whiplash from how fast you turned around to look at Lily, seeing her eyebrows bunched in confusion. “So, you don’t like me, Potter?”

He chuckles, a bit of the tension leaving his muscular frame as he shakes his head. “Redhead, you’re cool and all. But Y/n….” His gaze flicks over to you, and the affection in his eyes made you want to melt into a pool of hot mush.

Lily starts to smile, before it turns into a full-blown grin and she turns to you, nudging your elbow suggestively.

“Me?” you question slowly, suspiciously. You didn’t want to admit it, but your heart felt like it was going to burst even at the prospect of going out with him. “You like me?”

James immediately nods, turning slightly red at how long it was taking him to get an acceptance from you. But then again, he thinks he’d wait a lifetime for you to say yes, and he’d wait forever even if you said no.

Just then, you hear a loud cough on your left, and turn to see Severus glaring at you with a deadpan expression on his face.

You feel an arm bristle the hair on your head as Lily reaches over from your right, mussing up your brother’s hair. You laugh as he swats her away, tsking and cursing under his breath. “Shut up, Sev. Let my girl have her moment.”

Severus, to his credit, does shut up. Though he still has that bleary, stormy look on his face.

You turn back to James, slightly dizzy as the thought began to plant itself in your brain. The smile on his face was asking a million questions, holding a hundred insecurities. Yet you knew that there was only one right answer to them all.

“Yes,” you say softly, your lips beginning to curve upwards. Your heart was beating so loud, you were sure he could hear it.

“Yeah?” he asks, starting to grin. He lets out an exhale and scratches the back of his head, smiling at the floor before looking back at you. “Alright, then. I’ll pick you up outside the Great Hall, 5pm.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He beams at you, and it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever seen a person look before. “Bye, Y/n. And redhead, and Snivellus.”

James winks at you before turning around, causing your heart to jump and lodge itself in your throat. He jogs back to his group of friends waiting with wide eyes and bated breath.

A moment later, you can hear the cheers and whoops from across the field.

You turn back to Severus, afraid of what you’d find. He’s gazing at you with a terse expression on his face as you gulp anxiously.

“I’m sorry. If you’re not okay with it…”

“No. You are not going to bail out on him,” he says, the firmness in his voice catching you by surprise. “I know how long you’ve been waiting for this. And this is something you need to learn to do, getting your hands on the things you want. You’re a Snape, you always get what you want, you hear me?”

You nod helplessly.

“And if what you want is Potter,” he sneers, “Then Potter it is. Just don’t expect me to play nice.”

A small smile graces your lips. “Thank you.” You know he’d understand what you meant, all the things you were thanking him for.

You can see him start to soften, though perhaps that frown would be etched on his face permanently. He sighs, “Yes, yes. You’re welcome.”

Lily squeals and forcefully turns you towards her, gripping your hands. “This is awesome.”

“You’re just glad he doesn’t like you.”

“Am not!” she exclaims, but the mirth in her eyes betrays her.

You sigh, smiling bemusedly as you lie back down on her lap, watching her continue to craft the flower crowns. Maybe you’d give James one tomorrow, though you doubt he could look more beautiful than he already did.

[fourmoony]

I HAVE THE BEST REQUEST AND IT'S PERFECT FOR JAMES! like imagine reader sitting at home and suddenly she gets a text from james to come outside and he's standing there🥲🥲🥲🥲 so she asks what he's doing there and he's like "i just wanted to kiss you" SORRY IF IT'S TOO SPECIFIC

thanks for requesting, sweetie!

f!reader 1.1k words cw: drunk jamie

You're half asleep when your phone pings, illuminating the darkness of your bedroom in a distracting glow and you're half asleep, content to ignore the single ping, a problem for tomorrow. But another one follows a moment later, the third only seconds after the second. With a huff, your hand reaches out to grab blindly for the device.

James' contact photo smiles at you from the corner of the notification box, his glasses askew and hair a mess. Your favourite photo of him, despite how vehemently he detests it. The messages are a jumble of words you struggle to make out, vowels in the wrong places and an amusing amount of emojis, even for James. A laugh huffs it way out of you as the three text bubbles appear once again, and a fourth message comes through. A photo of your house.

You'd be concerned, should anyone else have sent you the eerie looking photo of your house in utter darkness, but James is a love sick fool. You'd have to be blind not to know that about your boyfriend, even if things between you are still pretty new. He's not got a bad bone in his body. But it doesn't stop the way you sit up in a panic, scanning the floor of your bedroom for less embarrassing clothing. You come up empty, and your phone is incessantly buzzing in your hands now that James knows you've read his messages.

You use the glow of your phone to find your way downstairs, your house keys, make your way to the door and unlock it. James is sprawled out on the grass of your front garden, phone comically close to his face as he squints at the words he's typing. Drunk. Absolutely obliterated, clearly. You'll give Sirius shit for it, tomorrow, you think, as you let an exasperated laugh tumble from your lips.

James whips his head around at the noise, scrambles like a puppy to stand and bound his way over to you. He tramples some of the flowers planted around the borders of the grass and you fight a wince. He's on you in seconds, warmth radiating from him despite having been out in the cold for god knows how long. His arms are strong and steady, even though he reeks of beer, as he pulls you into them, lips firmly planted on the top of your head.

You try to peek over his shoulder for any sign of who dropped him off, but the street is empty, desolate, and you decide he must've walked from the pub.

Sleep still clings to the edges of your eyes as James pushes you back - uncoordinated and a little roughly, but you don't mind - and holds your face in his warm hands. "Hi, lovely girl." His voice is sweet and brimming with excitement at the sight of you and your heart swells.

"What on earth are you doing here, James?" You ask, though your words are kind and laced with amusement.

Your boyfriend only grins like the cat who got the cream, like he can't wait to tell you all about his adventure, until his eyes snag on your pyjamas. Technically, his pyjamas. His old juniors rugby top from secondary school and his boxer shorts, left abandoned by him last week when he'd slept in for breakfast with his mum and left in a hurry, a kiss placed to your cheek and the promise of being home for dinner. It had felt so domestic you'd had to talk yourself down from overflowing excitement for hours.

"Woah." James breathes, eyes wide.

You'd known he wouldn't mind you wearing his clothes, even if a little embarrassment at the idea had clung to your skin as you slipped them on before bed. But you hadn't expected him to feel like that about it.

"Easy tiger, you're three sheets to the wind." You chide softly, using the distraction to usher him into the hallway.

You close and lock the door behind him, place the keys in the bowl beside the door. James finds you in the darkness, hands soft against the fabric of his clothes on your body. You don't have to see him to know he's smiling that coy smile he gets whenever he seems to remember he has you.

"Am not." He mumbles, as if your statement has just now caught up with him.

You laugh, take his hand to lead him towards your bedroom. He follows quietly and without protest, but frowns when you flip on the overhead light and place him on the edge of your bed.

"What happened to Sirius' epic boys night on the town?" You ask, hands on his face as you crowd the in between of his legs.

His hands come to rest against the backs of your thighs, grip firm but soothing. He smiles, head lolling to the side, "Well," He sighs, as if buckling in for some wild tale of beasts slaughtered and mountains climbed, all just to get to you, "Sirius and Remus got drunk, like really, really drunk, and touchy and they were kissing and it made me realise how much I wanted to kiss you. So I left, and I came here for a quick kiss."

"A quick kiss?" You ask, eyebrow raised.

James just smiles, nodding dutifully, like it makes the most sense in the world. "Yeah, I gotta go back. They don't know I left."

You let out a long, suffering sigh, reaching for your phone beside James. "You can't just leave and not tell anyone where you're going."

"If they even realise I'm gone, they'll know where I am. With you." James shrugs.

"How do you reckon?"

"Where else would I be?" He asks, so serious and determined, so sure of himself that it makes your breath catch in your throat.

You can't help but smile, sweet and saccharine, glowing all over as you lean down to press your lips to James'.

"You're sweet."

James wrinkles his noise, grip tightening on your thighs as he pulls you down to him, falling backwards with a gentle thud. You catch yourself before your head collides with his nose and James grins, childish and playful, "You're sweet, too."

"Thanks, Jamie."

He presses his lips to yours, again, simple and warm. He knows he's in no condition for anything else, simply tucks you into his side and tries to get you to fall asleep with him, right there in the middle of the bed, on top of the blankets.

He's dead to the world in seconds, so you don't have much room for argument.

[delusional-fantasising]

Peter Maximoff boyfriend headcanons SFW

- This man is super whipped for you and he is not a people pleaser but he hates seeing you not happy so this man will do everything for you just to have you happy

- Never ask him to cook, he will burn the house down but he will never admit it, he will go to your favourite place, order take out then put it on one of his plates acting like he cooked and plated it

- If you don't meet him in high school good luck trying to find any old pictures of himself, he will hide them all because he had a few phases in high school he's too embarrassed to show you ever. You will have better luck asking his mom for old pictures

- He lends out clothing like crazy to you, you need a shirt? He has a massive collection of band shirts. Do you need pants? The drawer is open for the picking for you. You may have to convince him to give up his prized jacket and goggles but once he sees you in it, it won't be very hard convincing him afterwards

- He loves it when you run his fingers through his hair, he just melts and has a goofy whipped smile on his face

- He will never tell you but if you ever see a claw machine and want one of the plushies, he will lead you away from the machine before making a disappearing act. One crime later and he has the plush, telling you that he is just the boss at claw machines (Total lie, he just grabbed the keys from a worker and opened the thing.)

- Understand this if you like something he will do research on it in the blink of the eye to show how much he cares about what you like. It can get a bit scary though when he knows more about your interest than you

- He had a calendar with any important information about you and he keeps track of stuff for you if you ask. Especially when he's older, despite him getting distracted easily he writes everything down because he's also forgetful

[cannibalisation]

not a lot, just forever

poly wolfstar/fem!reader

it doesn’t take much to keep yourself safe, yet it is still a challenging task for most. surrounding yourself with those who maintain warmth seems to do the trick, luckily you have remus and sirius, and they have you. (3.4k)

caution. injuries following lycan transformations, remus uses a walking cane, mentions of sirius’ family, gore/blood(?), bullying, reader has a bird animagi form.

i’m new to the marauders fandom and have limited knowledge, sorry for any character inaccuracies.

sewn together. 

ONE of the window latches in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory was broken. Fortunately, it’s the window right by Remus’s bed. A playful mishap between the group of them caused a book to go flying at it, shattering one of the glass panels. The window was repaired with a spell Peter had cast, but he was never able to mend the bolt. That's what makes it easy to sneak in when it’s past curfew. 

Remus lies atop the covers tonight; he only managed to shuffle the pants of his nightwear on. The plaid shirt was thrown haphazardly on the crest of his bed frame. Faint lines of gauze wrapped around his torso are visible beneath his chalk-white polo shirt. They’re stained with a muffled red; he must’ve bled quite heavily. 

The matron healer did an exquisite job as per usual. Neat fastenings of bandages; his wounds were clean. Though you would’ve preferred if Madam Pomfrey tried a little bit harder to convince Remus to stay the night in the hospital wing. 

This month's full moon was one of the hardest for some reason; you have an inkling that your presence was a contributing factor. Remus usually insists that you should stay far away from him when he changes, and he didn't even intend on revealing his lycanthropy, but Sirius persuaded him to change his mind. 

As soon as the truth came to light about his furry friend, you immediately urged him to let you help—in any way possible. The two of them were very strict regarding the routine, and in turn, you were very understanding. Sirius had been extremely reliant on your aerodynamic abilities, as your Animagus form held avian qualities. 

Remus was still on the fence about it, but with a few honeyed words and gentle (manipulative more so) kisses from you and Sirius, he was convinced. The transformation process created significant agitation, which only increased in intensity over the course of the week. 

He was clearly more possessive than usual, but you'd be lying if you said it wasn't entertaining. Neither you nor Sirius complained about Remus's insatiable want for affection; the two of you were never to be out of his sight. It was especially difficult during the day due to your separate schedules; after supper, you were confined to his dorm room. 

It was abnormal for the quiet boy you’ve grown to love to act in such a way. More often than not, it was more common for Sirius to act like this, treating public displays of affection like he would a new toy he got for Christmas. That’s what was most likeable about him; he was irrevocably himself. Remus was the opposite; they both stabilised one another nicely. 

Often it was like you were intruding, that you didn’t fit in as well as they did. A whiff of these thoughts, and they were quick to dismiss any negative feelings, and that was greatly appreciated. A balanced scale needs its anchor after all. 

Much to your delight, James and Peter did not make themselves at home in the boys dorm—they must’ve both been warming someone’s bed tonight. 

You have a vague idea of where James might be, but Peter leaves you in mystery. For all you know, he could be sneaking around with a Slytherin or two; that sounds like something he’d do anyway. 

Sirius is curled up in his own bed opposite Remus’. He watches with a soft look as you sit yourself down beside the injured boy. Much to your dismay, he had stayed in such a position as you attempted to crawl through the open window, chuckling quietly to himself at your struggles. 

Remus shivers as your hand brushes his mousy-brown curls before settling against it. How soft he looks when he’s like this. 

“He’s been asking for you in his sleep.” Sirius whispers, toying with the chequered quilt he lays beneath. You give Remus a once-over before looking back at the other boy. Sirius smiles lightly when that happens and pulls back the blanket so it sits just above his ribs. 

An invitation; he wants you to join him in his bed. And you desperately want to, but Remus needs you. Amidst his sleep, he blindly searches for your hand, and you comply by locking your fingers with his. 

The small tick in his brow soothes over, and he hums contentedly when you brush your forefinger against his palm. 

“He’s been saying your name.”

Your free hand finds purpose in Remus’ hair once more. “Cute, does he say yours?”

“No. I think it’s because he knows I’m here already. Perhaps I’ll ask him when he wakes up.” He taunts. Locking eyes again, you give him a humoured glare in disappointment. Of course he’d tease Remus about mindless sleep talks. 

One time, in a fit of anger, you had cast a spell in the general direction of Severus Snape (he had spoken ill of a fellow house member; what else were you supposed to do?). The dunce had managed to move out of the way just in time, causing the spell to hit Professor Flitwick. 

With a fresh pair of stag antlers perched on his head, the professor took away fifteen points from Gryffindor. It was a brief reprimand; still, Sirius has yet to let you live it down. He still makes jokes about it with James to this day. 

“I beg to differ.” Remus interrupts; he must’ve been awoken by the playful conversation. “I just don’t really like you.” He jokes, grazing his nimble fingers along the surface of your linked hands. 

Sirius scoffs before tugging at his blanket, pulling it up over his head so he can hide beneath it. “That is a lie; you love me, Moons.” His voice is muffled from underneath the quilt. 

Chuckling quietly, you continue to brush through Remus’ hair. He had always been appreciative of such services; often you could be found with your hands perched in his curls. 

Sirius instead preferred when you played with his hands. Fiddling with the brass and silver rings that decorate his lithe fingers always makes his heart grow fonder. 

You were prone to favouring back scratches, but you’d never tell them that. 

You lean downwards and press a small kiss to his forehead. “How are you feeling?” 

“Much better now. The madam gave me a Calming Draught and then I fell asleep.” He said slowly, observing you with a loving look that would make anyone’s heartbeat stutter. “What about you? Didn’t frighten you too much, did I?” You shake your head; he could never scare you. 

From the corner of your eye, you see Sirius rolling around in his bedsheets. With an exaggerated huff, he throws the covers off and flicks at his hair with one hand. He must be bothered by the lack of attention from the both of you. 

He turns his head and squints at you with faux anger, and you have half the mind to laugh in his face. Not a good idea, though; it would probably make him more annoying. 

Then he leaps from the confines of his bed with such haste it makes Remus flinch. He rolls from his bed and lands on the rugged ground. He continues to roll over until he reaches the foot of Remus’ bed. Now the whole room is lightened with soft laughter. Remus decides to stick out his free hand to dangle it over the edge of the bed. 

Like a dog with a bone, Sirius grabs a hold of it and entwines his fingers with Remus’. 

Every full moon will be hard; Remus knows that much. The process will never get easier to recover from; it will always eat at him. But so long as he has the two of you with him, he might be okay. 

bears the weather

Winter break was never easy for Sirius Black. Normally, he’d choose to stay on school grounds for the holidays. You’d often stay too, out of solidarity, and Remus would always bring treats back from his family home in Wales. 

This year, though, Sirius had been owled a letter from his mother, instructing him to come home over the break. 

He didn’t want to, that much you could tell. Sirius did not cry when he said that he would not be at Hogwarts for this year's Christmas holiday, but his eyes did gloss over, and his voice was terribly shaky. 

He became dismissive throughout the last week of classes; you were not able to comfort him in the way you had hoped to—for how are you to comfort a boy unloved?

He didn’t contribute to many conversations on the train ride back to King’s Cross Station; Remus had told you not to worry, but even he looked dejected. 

Sirius had briefly embraced you and Remus and claimed that he would write to the both of you. With a forlorn gaze, you watched as he and his younger brother made their way from the platform. 

A total of three letters, marked with the wax sigil of House Black, were delivered to your doorstep. How fitting that the owl that did so was ebony in feathers, a clear indicator of its keeper. The beast had tried biting at your fingers when it let go of the envelope. 

On the contrary, fourteen letters with Remus’ name smudged on the top were sent to your house by post. 

There were a couple of days during the winter break when you met up with Remus and some of your mutual friends. You had a joyous time ice-skating and drinking hot chocolate on Christmas Eve. An invite was sent to Sirius on both of your parts, but much to your grief, he did not show. It was lovely seeing and spending time with Remus, but it was clear that the both of you felt as if something was missing. 

Before you knew it, school was back, so were the uniforms and casted spells. The spring term always went by quickly, though the tension between the three of you was stifling. Sirius had been cold for the first week back; it was like the winter weather had made its home in his form. 

Though he gradually warmed up, there was something unusual about it. A strain in his shoulders or a furrow in his brow that had yet to settle, even when he slept. It ate at your heart that you couldn’t seem to figure out how to help him. Others were starting to notice too.

“Hey, is Pads doing alright?” 

Lily Evans, ever the gentle soul. It comes as no surprise that she was worried. You pause at her question, inked quill hovering over the smudged parchment. 

“He’s fine. I suppose.”

“Have you spoken to him much? I’ve only ever seen him at dinner time or in class.” 

You shake your head quietly and keep your gaze fixed on the paper. She is right after all. Sirius spends most of his time holed up in the dorm room, and no, you haven’t really had the chance to speak with him. Most of the time he’d be right with you now. In the library, studying for exams—or more so distracting you from studying. 

He isn’t, though; today it's just you and Lily sitting at a lone table in an alcove, hidden behind the many towering shelves of books. 

Although you can’t see it from where your gaze is fixed, the inquiring gaze of Lily Evans is harsh against your neck. 

“It’s just—” you start, strangling the feather quill with vigour. “I don’t know what to say. He’s struggling, that's clear, but I don’t know how to help him.” Such a stuttered confession makes you feel sick to your stomach. It’s something to do with Lily’s ambience that makes you go soft. She smiles delicately at your apparent demise. 

“Maybe you don’t need to say anything? Just let him know, in any way you can, that you're there. For him.” 

“You’d serve as a mighty fine therapist if this witch thing doesn’t work out for you, Lilyflower.” You mutter with a half-hearted smile. The russet-haired girl only hums with a small grin and turns back to her own parchment. “You’re lucky I’m not charging you for my wise words of wisdom.” 

You ponder Lily’s words on the lone journey back to the Gryffindor common room. 

Sirius Black was not a fragile individual, a quality that is quick to be learned. He was undeniably a brave soul; he didn’t let much get to him. The topic of his family, the noble and most ancient house of Black, was an arduous one; he could hardly speak their names without choking up. You and Remus knew this well and made sure not to bring them or even your own families up in conversation. 

It was a good few years ago that you had first been acquainted with Walburga Black. It was a short introduction when you were in your youthful age, therefore, you don’t remember much. Regardless, even in your earliest of life, did you realise that she wasn’t the kindest of people. Her eyes had frightened you the most, beady and almost pitch-black. They scanned over you like a predatory animal would when it spots its prey. 

That moment was all it took to notice the animosity she held for most. Sirius’ eyes were similar in colour, but they were so much more gentle. 

When Remus told you that he had never met Sirius' family before, you promised yourself that if you could, you would protect him from them and any other pure-blood zealot. 

Your eyes lock with James Potter’s as soon as you walk in through the portrait door. Somehow he is all-knowing and nods his head in the direction of the stairs leading up to the boys dorm rooms. Nodding back to him in gratitude, you make your way up the creaky steps posthaste. 

Remus is sitting upright on his twin-sized bed, watching over a curled-up Sirius. He glances up at you with melancholic eyes and gives you a small smile. 

You approach Sirius' bed quietly and take in the pile of blankets and pillows there. He observes as you sit down next to Remus, having only his face visible from underneath. To your delight, Sirius appears to be more content than he has been in a long time. His head rests on one of the cushions, his dark curls strewn about. You gently hush him when he stirs under the warmth of the covers.  

“It’s okay,” you murmur, leaning your head on Remus’ shoulder. “I’m here.”

Yes, Sirius thinks. You’re here.

sheds her feather

Muggles would never know the true rapture of flying. Sure, they could board a plane and take to the skies—but it would never feel the same as spreading your wings in the breeze. 

Each sliver of wind could be felt in your feathers, urging you to go faster, higher, forever. Though you’d never say it aloud, you’ve thought on many occasions to just spend the rest of your life in the sky.

You’ve always been a curious child. At least that's what Mother had believed, especially since you had snatched a coin purse from someone as a child and given it to her when you heard her gripe about money on the phone. She had been horrified and gave you a slap on the wrist in return. 

Her reaction did not ail you; often your closest companions are gifted something shiny in appearance.

Sirius was ecstatic when he was gifted an argentate ring engraved with a wolf signet, and Remus embraced you warmly with a soft kiss when you handed him a sterling silver novella bookmark—it had a small etching of a dove bird on it; you thought he’d appreciate it most. 

In a hasty manoeuvre, you land on a railing of the Astronomy Tower. With a ruffle of midnight-black feathers, it returns you to your natural form. 

The transformations have gotten much better than what they were originally. The first time you ever attempted it, you crashed into a tree and broke your wrist. That hadn’t been an easy one to explain to Madam Pomfrey. 

A shot of pain saddles up your leg, causing you to gasp loudly in shock and crumble to the floor. 

It was foolish to assume the flimsy bandaging you had done was adequate enough to halt the bleeding. 

The linen wrapped around your leg was stained with a bright crimson, nothing too bad to worry the nurses about it though. 

The most recent Quidditch game was won by Gryffindor; the losing team, Slytherin, was obviously not pleased with the results. A group of students had managed to corner you right after classes had finished for the day, and they must've been searching around for something to burn their energy off on. Unfortunately, that just happened to be you.

The Diffindo charm was not often used out of malice, but that didn’t seem to stop this particular Slytherin boy. The slash was embedded deep enough into the skin of your leg, causing a significant amount of blood. The cruel group of seventh-years draped in green ran off before you could react properly.

As luck would have it, you managed to sneak into the hospital wing undetected and quietly bandage yourself up. A clatter of objects from behind a curtain had spooked you enough into transforming and flying out an open window. 

The pain in your leg had majorly subsided whilst in Animagi form; perhaps the wind has healing properties. 

But now as you were crouched over in the tower, it’s clear that is not the truth of it.

A clamour of footsteps sounds out in the winding tower, and you attempt to transform again. To no avail, as the pain is too much to bear, so instead you brush back your uniform skirt as it had ridden up. 

Sirius makes himself present with a whistle; Remus shakes his head as he trails after him. The wooden cane that he’s taken recent use to creaking under his form. 

“We saw you flying overhead when we were walking back from Herbology.” Sirius confirms with a grunt as he sits down cross-legged. It was common for you to take off from the tower as it was the highest point in Hogwarts and generated the most adrenaline.

“Thought we could beat you here, but no, you’re just too fast!” He praises. 

Remus manages to sit down as well, without any help. You nod in compliment, trying to mask the pain in your leg. Sirius doesn’t notice the way your face screws up as he drones on about class, but like always, Remus does—probably some weird werewolf gene. 

“You alright, love?” He intervenes, Sirius stops talking for a moment. A hum leaves your throat; a bit too enthusiastically. Words are not reliable right now. 

Remus is clearly unconvinced, and Sirius casts a suspicious look your way. With a sigh of defeat, your hands grip the edge of the skirt and lift it slightly, just to show the dribbles of dried blood on your leg. Sirius’ breath hitches in his throat, and Remus looks at the scene with growing exasperation.

“What—Who did this to you?” Demanded Sirius as he moved to pull higher at your skirt. “No one, nothing, I mean. I just—” You start, but Sirius continues on.

“Don’t lie to me; you’re not this clumsy.” A laugh escapes you, but even that brings a twinge of pain. Remus shuffles through his leather satchel that holds his study books. 

He’s had to get a lot more creative regarding how he routines his life, now that he has to walk with an aid. Sirius was more than kind enough to gift him the costly satchel, much to Remus’ humbleness. 

He pulls out a roll of gauze, and you can’t help but grace him with a lukewarm smile. Always the caretaker he is, Remus Lupin. 

Sirius grabs the roll at breakneck speed and huffs drearily as he unravels your previous work. “You need to go to Poppy; I can’t do very well with this.”

Shaking your head in quiet disagreement, you watched as he wrapped fresh gauze around your leg. 

Remus leans over and brushes one of his forefingers against your cheek. With a soft pout, you cast a shy gaze at him from beneath your eyelashes. His eyes are always so soft when he looks at you. 

Sirius always teases him for it but gets equally as giddy whenever Remus gives the same look to him. He acts indifferent to it all the time, but there is no denying that his eyes are any less mellow.

He finishes by tying the fabric into a knot at the innermost point of the thigh, warmth rising to your face at the closeness.

“Going to let us help you now?” Remus asks. It’s a rhetorical question but you still search for an answer. Regardless, you nod your head at the question.

They can help you, always.

[v1ctor1asecretangel]

The other women

tate langdon x reader

based on "the other women" by lana del rey

warnings: angst

word count: 1.2k

notes: wrote this in the bathtub while listening to lana....maybe a little 🍃 was involved....

The days felt endless in the Murder House, stretched out in eternal dusk, punctuated only by stolen moments with Tate. For so long, you were his only solace, a quiet comfort in the night, a pair of haunted souls who clung to each other, bound by the same loneliness. You had found something rare and beautiful in him, a kind of love that didn’t need the warmth of daylight, a love that thrived in the darkness. He’d told you as much, promised you that in this house, you would always have each other.

But that was before her.

The Harmon family arrived one chilly October (?) evening, and everything changed. You felt a shift, a cold breeze that settled in your bones. You didn’t need to see Tate’s face to know that his attention was caught by her the moment she moved in. Violet. Even the sound of her name felt like an intrusion, an uninvited guest between you and him.

Days passed, and you could see the way he looked at her. He’d disappear for hours, drifting toward her room, slipping through walls just to catch a glimpse of her sitting on her bed, scribbling in her notebook, headphones on, oblivious to him. He was drawn to her in a way that was effortless and magnetic, the same way he had once been drawn to you. You’d once been that light for him. Now, you were nothing but a flickering candle in the shadow of something so much brighter.

One evening, after another day of him being away, you finally confronted him.

“Tate, where were you?” you asked, your voice barely hiding the hurt that sat, heavy and bitter, at the back of your throat. You were standing in the hallway, your arms folded, your eyes searching his for a glimpse of something familiar. Something that would tell you he was still yours.

He blinked, a small frown creasing his forehead. “Just…around,” he said, brushing past you. But you caught his wrist, desperate to keep him from slipping away.

“Around?” you repeated, bitterness coloring your tone. “Or with her?”

He looked at you, an unreadable look in his eyes, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he sighed, pulling his arm from your grasp. “You wouldn’t understand.”

You felt a pang in your chest, a sharp twist of jealousy and sorrow that you couldn’t shake. “I wouldn’t understand? Tate, I’ve been here with you. I am here with you. What does she have that I don’t?”

His gaze dropped to the floor, and for the first time, you saw it—the guilt, the hesitation. But there was something else, too, something that cut deeper than any knife.

“She’s…alive.” he said, his voice a whisper.

The word hit you like a punch to the gut. Alive. A word that meant everything in the house of the dead. You felt the cold realization settling in—you could never be what she was. She was real, tangible, and you were just a ghost. A reminder of everything he wanted but could never have.

“So that’s it?” you asked, voice breaking. “You’re just going to leave me, Tate?”

He looked at you with something close to pity, but there was no trace of regret. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted. “I just… I feel something when I’m around her. Something I haven’t felt in a long time.”

Your heart twisted, breaking in his hands as he stood there, speaking the truth that you’d dreaded. You wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to choose you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words. Instead, you nodded, swallowing the bile rising in your throat.

He lingered, as though he wanted to say more, but then he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the darkened hallway.

The nights became harder after that. He would come to you, always after he’d spent the day with her. You became the place he went to bury his guilt, to drown his uncertainty. He would hold you, his hands roaming, lips desperate against yours, but his touch was colder now, empty of the warmth it once held. You could feel it every time he left—pieces of him slipping away, fragments of the boy you once knew disappearing into the ether.

“Do you love her?” you asked him one night, the words escaping your lips before you could stop them. You were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, his arm draped over you in a way that felt suffocating.

He was silent for a long time, and then he spoke, voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know.”

It felt like a slap. You turned, looking at him, searching his face for any sign that he might still feel something for you, that you weren’t just a substitute, a convenience. But all you saw was conflict, a tangled mess of emotions that weren’t meant for you.

“Why do you keep coming back?” you whispered, tears threatening to spill over. “If you don’t know what you feel… why do you keep coming back to me?”

He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing. “Because…you’re familiar. You’re safe.”

Safe. The word made you feel hollow, like an afterthought. You were the comfort he turned to when things got too heavy with her, the steady presence he clung to when he couldn’t face his own feelings. But you were never the one he truly wanted.

“You’re using me,” you choked out, the realization hitting you like a wave. “I’m just… I’m just here because it’s easy.”

His eyes shot open, guilt flashing across his face. “No, that’s not-”

“Don’t lie to me, Tate,” you cut him off, voice trembling. “You love her. I can see it every time you look at her. You don’t look at me like that anymore.”

He tried to reach for you, but you pulled away, heart breaking with each step you took. “I love you,” he said softly, and for a moment, you almost believed him. Almost.

“Then why isn’t it enough?” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. You didn’t wait for his answer. You turned and left the room, your heart shattering with each step you took, knowing that he would go back to her, knowing that he would continue to look at her the way he once looked at you.

In the end, you resigned yourself to your role—the other woman, the forgotten ghost lingering in the halls, waiting for a boy who would never be yours. You kept your room meticulously clean, arranged fresh flowers in every corner, wore the scent he loved, all for the rare moments when he would slip away from her to be with you. But every time he held you, you felt the emptiness, the absence of the boy you had loved. The boy who had once promised you forever.

And as the years wore on, you found yourself alone more often than not, crying into the quiet, knowing that no matter how hard you tried, you would always be the second choice, the one he would leave behind. The one he would never love the way he loved her.

The other woman.

[letssee2468]

Yall let me be real with you…

YALL THESE PORN BOTS ARE GETTING OUT OF HAND!!!😡😡😡😡😡😡😡

I’ve had enough! I already scrolled 5 consecutive post of these porn bots

Some one pls help me filter them out cuz im annoyed

[masivechaos]

laugh by his side!

── ☆ remus lupin x fem! reader

── ☆ Request: yes / no

── ☆ Synopsis: Remus always had a crush on you and now that he finally gathers the courage to speak to you, he finds out you're deaf and don't talk. not that he minds, for you, he's ready to learn.

── ☆ Warning/content: reader is deaf, reads lips and uses sign language, i do not know anyone deaf personally so i hope my descripition is accurate, reader is insecure about their laugh (as i have heard from some deaf people on social media), she gets a comment from dumb meanies, my English

── ☆ a.n.: 1.8k words-

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── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

At Hogwarts, everybody knew everybody. You always saw people whisper a name, shush about someone’s embarrassing moment. So even when you didn't have a lot of friends and liked it better to be alone, people knew you from afar.

Not that they knew anything more than your house and name.

But Remus wanted to know more than that. He wanted to know what you liked and what was going on in this head of yours when you were reading at the library.

The first time he saw you he was barely twelve. You were sitting alone at the great hall, ignoring the guys talking next to you. He took in your features, even at that time he thought you were pretty.

But you were shy, and so was he. Therefore, it’s only at the beginning of year 7 that he finally decided to speak to you. Now or never, it was his last year.

“Um, hi, Y/n, right?” he said with an awkward hand wave as he rested his shoulder against the bookshelf. 

You didn’t really expect him to be there so you stared at him with wide eyes for a second too long before nodding your head. You could already feel your face turn warm under his tall gaze.

Remus scratched the back of his head “I, uh… What are you reading?” he asked as he nodded towards the book in your hands. He found you oddly silent but tried to ignore it, everything was going well, no need to get worried, maybe she’s just really shy. 

You showed him the cover, trying to ignore how moist your hands had turned ever since he spoke.

“The picture of Dorian Gray?” he said with a raised eyebrow “you like classics?” You nodded again. “What do you like about them?”

That was the embarrassing moment you feared, the one where you couldn’t answer with a yes or no and had to awkwardly make him understand you only spoke in sign language.

You shrugged.

Remus tried to keep his composure. This was going awfully bad for him “Um… if I’m bothering you… you can say it”

You shook your head. No way he was leaving now.

“Then what is it?”

You took a deep breath and held up a finger to make him wait. You dug in your bag and pulled out a notebook and a pen. With a slightly shaky hand, you wrote down ‘I can’t speak’

“Oh,” Remus said as he read “Why is that?”

“Deaf since birth” you wrote down.

He frowned slightly, “But you can hear me…?”

You grabbed your pen “I read lips” Weirdly, the Wizarding World didn’t have solutions for these kinds of things compared to muggles. So since you were a kid you train yourself to read lips.

“Oh… got it.”

A moment of silence passed before he broke it “Can I ask a question?”

You nodded, happy that he was still willing to talk.

“If you’re only deaf, why can’t you talk? I mean… no offense I’m just curious.”

“I can make sounds but I don’t know how to talk because I never heard. I prefer sign language.”

He waited and read. His lips tugged into a smile “Sign language… I see”

You grabbed your pen again “I don’t try to talk because it makes me feel stupid in front of people I don’t know. Laughing too”

Remus frowned “You don’t allow yourself to laugh? Don’t you think it’s a little harsh on yourself?”

“People think my laugh is weird because I can’t control how loud it is”

“I’m sorry that sucks,” he said as he ran a hand through his hair. “But you know if someday you want-” Remus was cut by the sound of Sirius’ voice.

“C’mon, mate. Don’t wanna be late to James’ game,” he said as he dragged him away from you.

Remus waved his hand and mouthed ‘see you’ as he left the library without his will.

You were left alone with your book and burning cheeks. It felt so warm to know that even if you were deaf, he was willing to know you more. You didn’t have many friends and of course the few you had knew at least some signs. But you never really dare talking to new people, you always thought you’d be too boring. But apparently, it didn’t bother Remus at all.

-

Around a week later, you went into the library after class as always but every table seemed to be full. Your eyes darted the room, you didn’t want to sit next to someone you didn’t know and as you turned around to leave, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jolted by surprise. 

You spun around and saw Remus “Sorry,” you read on his lips “Forgot you couldn’t hear me from afar”

You smiled to let him know you weren’t mad.

“There’s a free seat next to me if you want”

You sat by his side and saw him pull out a paper and write “Is reading lips more tiring than reading what I write?”

Your smile only widened, no way he was asking this. You only spoke one time and didn’t expect him to be so considerate already. “Yes”

“Got it,” he wrote.

You both worked on your own in silence, Remus was occasionally glancing at you. You were so focused on your work, your tongue poking out the corner of your lips, he thought you were so cute.

He took a deep breath and went back to his work. Little did he know that you were struggling just as much to not stare at him. Your knee brushing his, your elbow touching his, it was all too much. You felt the warmth creeping up your neck and ears and cheeks.

As you kept staring down at your textbook, you saw Remus’ hand sliding a sheet under your eyes “Want to take a break?” he had written.

It had been less than an hour but you wouldn’t say no to more time with him so you looked up and nodded.

Once out of the library, he led you to the Black Lake. He sat down against a tree and made sure you could see his face as he said “Better here, no?”

You looked at his soft smile as he spoke and nodded. Your lips were tugged into a smile, too. There was just something about him. You couldn’t help it.

“Here we don’t have tons of loud students” he said before realizing “not like it matters to you” he chuckled awkwardly, realizing his mistake.

You laughed. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to laugh in front of someone other than your four friends. You knew you probably sounded a little weird but you didn’t care because you saw his smile widening.

“I like that,” he said.

You shook your head with a smile, “No,” you managed to stay, still laughing. It felt good to finally allow yourself to be free.

“What ‘no’?” he smiled, “It’s adorable, keep laughing.”

Your heart melted, you spent so much time hiding it and there, Remus was allowing you to be yourself. And it felt so good to finally let your guard down.

-

As the weeks passed by, you spent more and more time together, using study sessions as an excuse to be with each other.

You kept every single sheet he used to talk to you, reading the conversations over and over again when you had some time alone. It was easy to say you were whipped.

But the good thing was, Remus was too.

“Come on,” James grinned “You have to tell her!”

Remus sighed “I’ll look dumb if she doesn’t feel the same. I’ve looked at her from afar for years now but to her it’ll be so sudden”

Sirius scoffed “Bullshit. That’s just an excuse you found.”

“Yeah listen to them,” Peter chimed.

“Weren’t you supposed to be my ally in this?” Remus frowned.

Peter shook his head with a laugh “Nope”

Remus sighed and laid back on his bed “I’m so… down bad”

“That you are,” James grinned “That’s why you have to tell her”

“Yeah, I know…” he whispered “You know what?” he said as he sat up “I’m gonna tell her. This is our last year, I’ll regret this if I don’t’

“That’s what we like to hear!!!” Sirius shouted as he clapped hands with James.

-

Remus ran to your usual meeting spot next to the lake. He was ready, he was gonna confess. All these weeks he spent by your side, it felt so good. He needed more.

He could finally see the tree and… he frowned. You weren’t alone, three students with green collars were by your side. You didn’t seem well. He rushed to you “Everything’s alright?” he asked as he immediately pulled you close to him.

One of the students snickered “Like she can answer you,” he laughed.

Remus’ frown deepened “Excuse me?”

“Your girlfriend’s mute.”

“No she’s not.”

“Oh,” another Slytherin chimed in “and why won’t she speak then?”

Remus felt anger boil in the pit of his stomach “Because you don’t deserve to hear her. Piss off now.”

The three didn’t bulge “I said piss off!” he said louder until the group left. He turned around and tightened his arms around you, making you understand you were safe now. You were curled up by his side, you didn’t know what he said to make them leave but you had felt their footsteps running away from you.

Remus tilted your chin to make you look at him “You’re alright?”

You nodded

“I’m sorry they bugged you” he whispered.

You smiled to say ‘it’s fine’

“No it’s not,” he said, already knowing you too well. “It’s not fine.”

You looked down and felt his embrace tighten. You stayed like this for a while, with his arm around your back and your head in his neck. It felt good. You could feel your heartbeat calming down.

Remus pulled away. You sat down against your usual tree. “I came here to say something– well… let you know something”

You looked up at him, intrigued, and tilted my head.

Remus took a deep breath and started moving his hands and fingers, trying to remember the signs he learned. It was time. He focused and signed “Will-you-go-out-with-me-?”

Your eyes widened and you nodded. Your heart was a puddle, you couldn’t believe he had put so many thoughts into this. You nodded again and hugged him as tight as you could. You felt the warmth in your body, creeping from your toes to the top of your head.

Just as always, Remus stayed there, knowing exactly what you needed and giving it to you without hesitation.

It probably didn’t mean a lot to him to learn a sentence in sign language, but to you, it meant so much. Just like when you allowed yourself to laugh by his side, with him, you could be free, you could be yourself.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

⋆ ★ remus lupin taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cauliflowertree @madison-rebel @moonlitmeeks  @rhydianissuperior @loveeharrington @mad-elia @jackys-stuff-blog @elenatries2write @princess-paramour @juneberrie @f4iry-blush @gilmore-angel @heartfucks @sparklenarniawizard @songs4themoon @moondemon123 @mystic-writings @siriusblackstwin @natashxromanovf @violetteshoneybee @unadulterated-syd @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @garfieldsladybird @kidcuisinesvcks @percy-the-hufflepuff @fairydxll @spookydarkwitch @innerloverpainter @vancitycharlie @nyxxxxxxxx @venussflytraps @diorgirl444 @oncasette @locke-writes @dori-and-gray @itsarajr @maddipoof @starconfettii @widowbf @starlit-epiphany @rosalyn-s @etanordiesbullshit @sageskisses444 @luvmarsbars @jsjcue @mellozhi @lovings4turn

[evvyyypeters-fics]

A Ghost In the Bed

Perv!Tate Langdon x dom!f!reader oneshot

Warnings! Pure smut, porn w/ zero plot, masturbation (male), handjob, obsession, pantie fucking, femdom, a lil mommy kink, humiliation

In honor of it being officially Murder House season (to me at least) I bring u this masterpiece I created. Inspired mainly by @fear-is-truth

It was the blood moon tonight, and suspiciously every time the sun dipped under the horizon and the moon glared down onto the cold ambience of autumn, Tate’s libido sky rocketed. His eternal teenage hormones spiking to a point that was unbearable. And it didn’t help now that you were living in the infamous ‘Murder House’, Tate’s obsession with you dark and lustrous like the red glow of the other-worldly planet.

You were out at a friend’s house tonight, Tate had overheard you asking your mom to go, and she obliged as usual. Needing you so desperately, he craved. Imagining your soft skin, biting it, tasting it’s warmth. Feeling it tingle through his cold, dead soul. The harmonic string of melodies that he could pull from your throat as he buries himself in your flesh, caressing it, pounding you. Even the way your tits rested under your shirt, your cleavage peaking sometimes and sending sparks through his body, or the view of your ass as you walked up the stairs, always making sure he followed behind you just to see it and hopefully a glimpse of your panties that day from under your skirt. The ghostly feeling of his imaginations traveling straight to his cock, twitching uncomfortably in his pants. He needed relief, and he needed it bad. If only you were there to help him, if only he knew you wanted to help him.

At first his mind muttered silent prayers that you wouldn’t somehow find him desperately rutting into your favorite pair of cotton panties, his hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as he used the soft fabric to create a strangely pleasurable friction, his pre-cum soaking them with the perfect amount of lube.

The sounds were obscene, yet muffled by the cloth. On the other hand, his moans were not. Shamelessly he whined, whimpering obscenely as he came closer and closer to the edge, using his fantasies of you as fuel as he fist fucked into your panties like a bunny in heat, but there was no final wave. No release, just the aching feeling of the weight of his hard cock, pounding. He was starting to get too desperate, his thoughts drowning as all he wanted anymore was for you to save him from this torment. He didn’t care if you hated him for it, he just needed your touch. Your comfort. To cum.

“Tate…?” A familar voice chirped curiously, the door creaking open.

Shit. He thought. You were back early.

He instantly sat up, hiding his proud cock with a nearby pillow resting on your bed. His face was beat red, his eyes watery and skin persperating with small beads of sweat. Pupils blown, his jaw slack as he stutters an excuse than hangs from the tip of his tongue, it’s clear what happened. Tate was ready for the scream, the insults, the anger, the disgust. But there was none, you surely looked surprised, but he couldn’t see any distain in your staring eyes.

“Why are you back? You weren’t supposed to be back yet!” He blurts out a little loudly, his voice trembling. He didn’t mean to be accusatory, you knew.

“I got bored and wanted to come home..” You reply slowly, taking invisble steps closer towards the bed.

“You know…what are you doing in my bed, Tate?” You ask, wanting to taunt him in his vulnerable state, see how far you can push him and make him melt even more into a puddle. He shivers as he begins to notice the growing warmth of your body leaning closer to his frozen position on your mattress. Hoping your eyes don’t look down at the conspicuous pillow, anxiety striking his heart as just in that moment you do. There’s something predatory in it that makes his spine shiver.

“N-Nothing. I just…missed you.” The words are forcefully calm and monotone, trying to sound casual. A dumb excuse he came up with spontaneously that you both knew didn’t work to hide anything.

“You missed me, huh?” You smile devilishly as you press a hand in the mattress next to him, his whole body lighting on fire, his breathing begins to labor with the pure lava of lust flowing to his dick. Your hand mere inches away from where he needed you most.

“Is that all?” He swallowed thickly, his eyes darting from your hand to your gleaming eyes.

“I—uh.” He chokes on his words. “N-no..” He admits shamefully, his gaze tilting away.

“Do you want me to help you fix it?” You lean into his ear, whispering hotly against it which makes his face light up pinker, every hair on his body on end.

He swallows thickly again before nodding.

“Use your words, puppy.” You croon, pinching his chin between your fingers and gently forcing his glossy coffee eyes to look at you.

“P-Please.” He whines, causing your heart to squeeze a little.

“Good boy. Let mommy see.” You smile slyly, pulling away your hand as he lays back comfortably into the mattress, removing the pillow from over his length as you climb beside him. Kneeling over his legs.

“So naughty.” You tease as you pull away the sticky pair of panties wrapped around his shaft, precum beading thickly at his tip as he twitches from the touch or lack thereof.

His hips automatically jerk up, trying to reach your hand as you pull away the material. A small giggle slips past your lips that makes him whine into a bitten lip.

“Poor baby, all worked up, I won’t tease you any longer.” You coo, prodding a pad of your finger at the practically purple pillowy head.

He instantly lets out a muffled gutteral moan, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, embarrassed by the pathetic sounds as you wrap your hand around him. Collecting the slick and coating his cock with it as you start a leisurly pace that slowly picks up, leading him to buck into your fist wildly.

“Let me hear you, puppy.” You say softly, watching between his perfect cock and his adorable face as he tries to hide the very obvious sounds bellowing from his throat. “Let me hear those pretty sounds you make.” Forcing a gutteral sound to spill from his lips as you press a finger into the sensitive head.

Your words make his heart and brain melt, the feeling of your hand on him being even better than he anticipated. He can feel himself getting closer, hips slamming at the same pace as your fist, pre-cum drooling over your hand as he moans pathetically. The sound of his voice getting thicker and more desperate, his muscles tensing.

“Cum for me, puppy. C’mon, let it all out.” You soothe, something clicks in his brain and he instantly busts, long and thick milky ropes shoot out, more than you thought was possible and drawing a long moan from his lips as his head pushed back into the pillow behind it. His thighs shuddered, toes curled until the ropes subsided and rested coated on your hand and his cock.

“Feel better?” You ask, slowly removing your hand as he comes down from the high.

Practically drunk on pleasure and blissed-out, he nods silently.

“Good. Next time, maybe just ask me first before jerking off into my panties.” You scold light-heartedly as you raise up the half-crusted fabric to the culprit’s gaze and he quickly hides his blushing face guiltily.

Taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @xrag-dollx @lacucarachapisser @alittleobsessedbitch

[american-horror-whore]

𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 | 𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

cw —smut, sex, unprotected p in v, slight masturbation (f & m), face sitting (f receiving), cunnilingus, fingering, biting, unchecked spelling and grammar

an — sorry if this is a wee bit messy, i’m trying out new layouts. also, surprise surprise: a medium-winded evan smut fic (if this flops, i’m dying)

“Here,” Evan laughed, watching your lips engulf the fork with a bite of cake on it. He smiled watching you chew the bite, your eyes lighting up as you tasted your favorite flavor.

“Good?” He smiled, receiving an enthusiastic nod from you.

Your friends surrounded the table, each one of them trying to take your picture like you were some celebrity. You tugged at the silver ‘Birthday Girl’ sash that hung around your body, fixing your crown as you finished chewing your bite of cake. You couldn’t tell if you felt like a baby or a princess, the way everyone was poking and prodding you.

“Birthday girl should get a photo with her boyfriend!!” One of your friends squealed, yanking you up before pushing you towards Evan. You smiled as he wrapped his arm around your waist, making that same, semi-uncomfortable smile as his eyes darted to each camera.

“Which camera are we supposed to look at?!” You cried out, a beaming smile on your face as you practically read his mind. Your eyes shot around as you leaned into Evan. His hand slid to your waist, drawing small circles on your hip bone.

It was a long line of photos, gifts, and racy words of celebration before you and Evan were finally alone again. He was taking down a banner that hung in the kitchen, insisting you should stay at the table and eat your cake. You watching him work at cleaning up the apartment, watching his shirt shift up as he reached and stretched for higher-placed objects. Your eyes rode down his happy trail, stopping at the button of his jeans.

“Can I get one last birthday present..?” You question softly, a smirk playing on those pretty lips that Evan loved.

“What would that be?” Evan said, looking over his shoulder.

His eyes widened, a flash of hunger evident as he saw your hand up under your dress. You were leaned back in your chair, head tilted back as you let out a soft moan. Your fingers danced expertly on top of your clit, dragging the bundle of nerves in a circle as a pregame.

“Oh, okay..I see how it is, Chica,” Evan laughed, dropping the banner to the ground. He walked over to you, picking you up like you weighed nothing. He tossed you up over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom.

“Put me down-!!” You squealed as a firm slap to your ass was planted to silence you. Evan squeezed the skin beneath your dress before he dropped you down onto the duvet. He crawled overtop of you, peeling off your birthday dress. His lips and teeth nipped at your shoulder, your collarbones, leaving small bruises and imprints of his teeth on your skin as he unclipped your bra. His fingers hooked your lace panties, dragging them down your legs as he felt that soft material he loved so much.

“Get comfortable,” He said with a sly grin, peeling his shirt from his torso. He climbed onto the bed planting his face between your smooth thighs. He flicks your throbbing clit with the tip of his tongue, his soft, entertained chuckles sending vibrations through your body.

Evan slid two fingers into your dripping folds, forcing you to let out a surprised, almost involuntary whine. Evan flicked his tongue faster, his fingers pumping harder into you.

“Agh— Oh, God, Evan,” You moan desperately, your head falling back. You needed more, and he knew that. Evan pulled his fingers away, his hands drawing to your waist as yours drew to the back of his head. he continued to move his tongue in stripes and circles, tasting that vanilla taste that he yearned for. After a bit, pulled away before laying out on his back, the fluffy duvet crumpling under his body weight.

“C’mere..” Evan grunted as he grabbed your hips, attempting to pull you up over him. You settled over his face, seating yourself comfortably as you started to grind over his nose.

Evan once again lets out a chuckle, his tongue darting out to lick the wetness from your folds. Your hands went down to his hair, fingers tangling in his dark curls. You ground your hips harder, broken, satisfied whimpers escaping your mouth. Evan held one hand to your hip, the other one going to down to unzip his jeans. He pushed the denim to his thighs, grabbing and kneading himself through his boxers, which already had a sizeable stain on the fabric.

He took your hips, pulling you off his face. Evan sat you down as he pulled off his boxers, watching your naked body. His eyes traced every shape, every curve. The way your waist was shaped, your breasts, hips, thighs, everything. He thought you were perfect, made by Aphrodite herself, the contours of your body crafted with the holiest clay.

You watched him crawl over you, his hands going to either side of your head. You felt his lips on your skin, kissing your neck, his tongue licking at the soft skin. He always said you tasted of vanilla, for some strange reason. It had grown to become one of his favorite scents and tastes since dating you.

Evan lined himself up, his tip gently prodding at your closed sex. You take in some much needed air, relaxing your body. Your aforementioned relaxation had been cut short by the full feeling of his cock being driven into you. That was the moment that you remembered how big he was, how much he truly stuffed you.

You let out a strained moan, your nails digging into the skin of his back so hard that it almost drew blood. But he didn’t mind. He was a freak, you knew it. Evan pumped his hips back and forth, back and forth at a relentless, almost brain melting pace. He would go from torturously slow, to almost painfully fast, enjoying the way your nails dug deeper into his skin.

You crane your head, planting your face against his bicep. You sink your teeth into his skin, right against his tattoo. You hear him let out a wince, pumping his hips faster. You pull back, looking up at him as you held back probably the loudest moan you’d ever excrete.

“You’re gonna pay for- fuck— for that one, baby,” He panted, his breathing turning sharp as he continued going faster and faster until-..You finally felt it. That sweet release. And so did he.

“Evan-!!” You cried out, pressing your body as taught against his as it could be. He let out a loud moan, and then another as he continued weakly thrusting with jerking-like motions.

“Agh-! Fuck…God..” He breathed, exhaling sharply. He nuzzled himself deeply into you before pulling out with a wet pop. His length bounced up the moment it was released. Evan sighed, laying out next to you.

He held you tightly in his arms, pressing soft kisses to the helix of your ear, or gently to your neck as he whispered gently to you.

“Happy birthday, Birthday Girl..”

— taglist: @fear-is-truth @dangeroustaintedflawed @newwavesylviaplath @coentinim @lacucarachapisser @evansonlylove @dearlizzies @oceanblvd111 @foreverviolets @emmasshitblog @jazz-berry @xrag-dollx @taintandviolent @colinzabelswife @marchsfreakshow @evanpeterspeter @whosbloom @redroses07 @lemoniiiiiii @partypoisxn @evanpetersbf @ultraviolamb @jdnymos

[ahqkas]

♯ GOD KNOWS I TRIED ; kit walker

PAIRING! kit walker x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! kit is a true gentleman at heart, and he does what kind men do : he protects the ones he cares about ( based on this req.!! )

WORD COUNT! 4.1k

WARNINGS / TAGS! angst, fluff if you squint hard enough, mature / suggestive themes, briarcliff asylum warnings, sister jude and her punishments + lmk of more if found

NOTES! my man my man my man . all the credits to the devider bellow belong to @/v6que !!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE RAIN FELL IN RELENTLESS CASCADE, DRUMMING AGAINST THE GLASS WINDOWS OF BRIARCLIFF ASYLUM. The night was clothed in darkness and the only source of provided light was the occasional flash of lightning that illuminated the gothic architecture of the asylum. The heavy rain had changed the surrounding landscape into a dark blur. The expansive green lawn, overgrown and wild, seemed like it came out of a horror story with its ghostly flashes, revealing the twisted forms of ancient trees and the labyrinthine tangle of bushes. The wrought iron gates, their ornate designs now almost swallowed by the storm, groaned softly as they were tossed around by the wind. 

Inside, the atmosphere was equally grim. The asylum's corridors, long and narrow, were bathed in a dim, flickering light from the aging fluorescent fixtures that barely pierced the gloom. Each flash of lightning revealed glimpses of the asylum's interior: the scattered, old furniture, the barred windows, and the heavy, locked doors. The harsh light highlighted the grim details of the inside — rusting fixtures, peeling paint, and the long shadows cast by the iron bars on the windows. 

The nuns had decided to host one of the famous movie nights. It was a tradition they upheld during every stormy night in an attempt to calm down the residents who would become agitated by the loudness that came with the storm. 

The main common room had been transformed for the occasion. The dim, oppressive lighting was softened by the warm, flickering glow of a makeshift projector setup, casting a gentle, almost nostalgic light across the room. The walls, lined with faded, institutional artwork and peeling paint, were obscured by heavy, tattered curtains that had been drawn over the windows to shield the patients' wandering eyes from the storm's fury outside. The dusty curtains hung in uneven folds. The nuns had also arranged a selection of worn, overstuffed chairs and mismatched couches in a semi-circle around the small projector that sat on a makeshift table. The screen was a large, slightly yellowed sheet stretched taut across a wooden frame and its surface bore the scars of countless previous showings. 

You sat on one of the overstuffed couches positioned in the back row of the common room, your figure partially hidden by the shadows cast by the dim light of the projector. The couch you occupied was a faded, floral-patterned relic, its cushions soft and sagging from years of use. The upholstery, once vibrant, had long since dulled to a muted palette, its once-bright colors now blended into the overall gloom of the room. Everything was dull here in Briarcliff. Your posture was relaxed because of the warmth the man beside you provided. 

Kit Walker, a kind man once you got to know him, was the sanest person in the whole building besides yourself and you were glad to form an alliance with him. Although, there were feelings nestled deep inside you, ones you didn't have to say out loud for him to see and feel. That man had a strong jawline and high cheekbones that gave him a chiseled, almost heroic appearance and that alone gave your knees the right amount of shake to fall for him. You found out he had a natural ability to really listen and offer comfort and he carried himself with a quiet dignity, not seeking validation or praise but simply remaining true to himself despite the circumstances. 

Kit Walker was the man of your dreams.

The screen was currently displaying an old, black-and-white film, its grainy images flickering in sync with the erratic flashes of lightning outside but you couldn't force yourself to pay any amount of attention to the supposed entertainment. The film's dramatic scenes, with their exaggerated gestures and artificial emotions, seemed almost absurd compared to the thoughts that were dedicated to the man sitting next to you. 

And the same could be said about Kit. The way the occasional light from the projector cast soft highlights across your features, emphasizing the curve of your cheek and the depth of your eyes, made you seem almost ethereal and Kit was losing it. None of the workers could force him to sit on the moldy couch and torture himself with boredom when you sat quietly beside him, distracting him with just simply being there. 

He noticed your subtle, distracted glances toward the screen, but your eyes lingered more on him than on the film.  Kit could feel the way your eyes followed the play of light and shadow across his face, how you seemed to be drawn to the warmth he provided rather than the outdated drama on the screen. He found himself smiling softly to himself at your distraction with a knowing look in his eyes. You wanted him as badly as he wanted you. 

Leaning slightly closer to your body, Kit's voice was low and warm as it hit the side of your face, barely above a whisper to avoid breaking the fragile atmosphere that had settled around the two of you. "You know," he began and a hint of playful amusement appeared in his tone, "we don't really have to stay here if we're not into the movie." 

"What do you mean?" you asked in the same tone as him, your voice a gentle murmur that barely competed with the distant hum of the projector. When you exhaled, the warm air hit Kit's face. 

Kit's honey-brown irises shimmered in the darkness, and he subtly nodded toward the exit of the dimly lit room, where the storm outside was barely audible against the noise of the film. "I was thinking . . . maybe we could sneak away, find a quieter spot where we can actually do whatever we want. What do you think?"

The suggestion was simple, yet it carried the promise of a more intimate and personal escape from the boredom of the asylum's common room. The thought of stepping away from the dreary atmosphere was an enticing one. Yet, the fear of feeling Sister Jude's sick pleasure held you back. Sister Jude, with her sharp eyes and ever sharper tongue, seemed to delight in catching the patients of the asylum in any moment of weakness or rebellion. Her authority was absolute, an iron hand that loomed over every corner of Briarcliff, and the idea of stepping out of line — even for a brief moment — carried a weighty sense of risk. You could already imagine the way Sister Jude's eyes would narrow in satisfaction, her lips curling into that smug, almost sadistic smile she reserved for moments when she exerted her control. 

You still remember what she did to Grace. What she did to Lana. 

And yet, the allure of escaping with Kit, even just for a little while, was difficult to resist. 

"I don't know, Kit," you whispered in a trembling voice as you voiced your worries to him. "What if we get caught? You know how Sister Jude is. She'd make an example out of us, and I — I don't think I could handle that. I don't want to give her the satisfaction."

He could see the fear in your eyes, the way it held you back, and it only made him more determined to protect you. "[Name]," he said gently, his voice low and reassuring, "nothing's going to happen. I promise you that. We'll be careful, okay? And even if something does happen, even if Sister Jude catches us, I'll take the blame. She won't lay a finger on you."

"Kit..." you began but he cut you off with a slight squeeze of your hand. You didn't question when he took hold of your palm. 

"Trust me, [Name]," he murmured, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles repeatedly. "I won't let her touch you. I'll take the heat if it comes to that. But right now, let's just get out of here, even if it's just for a little while. We deserve that much, don't we?" 

There was a warmth in his voice, a quiet strength meant to reassure you in ways nothing else at Briarcliff ever could. Kit was right — both of you did deserve this. And you could use the sweet release from the asylum's cruel grasp. 

You took a deep breath, nodding slightly as you made up your mind. "Okay," you whispered into the darkness. Kit could feel the touch of your words against his lips. "Okay, let's go." 

His hand was firm and reassuring as he helped you to your feet. Every movement of his was carefully done, as if even the slightest noise could shatter the fragile veil of secrecy he had cast over the both of you. The dim light of the common room flickered weakly, casting long shadows across the floor, but you moved with purpose, slipping quietly through the rows of seats, avoiding the eyes of the staff and the other patients who were too engrossed in the film to notice your departure. Sister Jude should hire more responsible staff. 

Once you reached the doorway, Kit paused, glancing back to ensure no one was watching before gently guiding you with a strong hand against your lower back into the darkened corridor beyond. The heavy wooden door closed behind you with a soft creak, and the two of you were finally alone, the distant sound of the movie a only faint hum behind. You moved quickly through the long, lonely corridors of Briarcliff Asylum, footsteps barely audible on the cold, tiled floors. The rain continued its assault on the windows with no sight of stopping. Kit led the way, his grip on your hand never faltering. 

As the both of you rounded a corner, the sound of distant voices reached your ears — staff members making their rounds. Kit's fingers tightened his hold on yours, pulling you closer as you pressed yourself against the wall, breaths held in unison. The voices grew louder for a moment, then faded as the staff continued down another corridor, oblivious to the two figures hidden in the shadows. Relief washed over you along with the vivid pictures of Sister Jude's punishment. You needed to find a place to hide, somewhere quiet where you could steal a few moments of peace away from the watchful eyes.

Finally, you reached the heavy metal doors of the kitchen, pushed open just enough to allow a sliver of light to escape into the dark corridor. Kit glanced around to ensure you were alone before gently pulling the door open wider, gesturing for you to slip inside first. He followed right after you. 

The kitchen was quiet, dimly lit by a single overhead light that cast a soft glow across the industrial steel countertops and rows of neatly organized utensils. The scent of cleaning supplies mingled with the faint aroma of fresh bread that had long since been cleared away. 

And before either of you could think or second-guess, you were drawn together like magnets. Kit leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and filled with urgency. The kiss deepened quickly though, passion flaring between the two of you like a wildfire as everything else faded away — the asylum, the storm, the fear. All that mattered was this moment, this connection. His hands found their way to the small of your back for the second time this evening, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own. You responded in kind, slender fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer as if afraid that letting go would mean losing this fleeting moment of intimacy. 

The heat of the kiss spread through you both when Kit's strong hands slid down to the bottom of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. The feel of your body against his was intoxicating, and he moved with purpose, carrying you to the nearest counter. With a fast and urgent motion, he set you down on the cool steel surface, hands brushing aside utensils and making space for you, painting his hands with flour in the process.

Your heart raced as Kit's hands roamed your body, exploring with both desire and respect. His touch was precise as if he was memorizing every curve, every inch of your skin to remember for the rest of his days. He kissed you again, this time slower, savoring the taste of your lips as his hands moved from your waist to your hips, then slowly up to your back, pulling you closer to his body and hiking your knees up even more, leaving white fingertips in their path.

You responded in kind, hands tracing the sculpted lines of his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. There was something so raw, so real about the way he touched you — as if this was the first time in a long time he had felt truly alive. Your fingers danced across his skin, exploring the planes of his body with the same amount of desire. Kit's hands slid up your sides and under the hem of your gown, his thumbs brushing against the soft skin just above your underwear, creating a shiver that traveled down your spine. You arched into his touch, breath hitching as you felt the tension coil tighter within you. 

"Kit . . . I—" you couldn't finish your sentence, the words lost in a breathless moan as his hands wandered lower, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you. 

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath hot and ragged against your lips. The intensity in his gaze was undeniable, a mixture of raw desire and something deeper, something that made your heart pound even harder. That look — told you how much he wanted you, how much he needed this, how much he needed you — made you tighten your legs around his waist. "I've got you," he whispered, his voice rough. It was a look that made your heart race and your body ache for more. 

The door swung open with a suddenness that shattered the intimate bubble you had created, the sound echoing off the cold, sterile walls of the kitchen. Kit froze, his grip on your hips tightening instinctively as you both turned toward the intrusion. The harsh overhead light of the corridor spilled into the room, illuminating the figures standing in the doorway.

A tall, stern-looking man in the uniform of the asylum staff stood there, his eyes narrowing as they fell upon Kit and you. His presence was imposing, his broad shoulders blocking out most of the light from the hallway, but it was the figure behind him that sent a jolt of fear through your chest.

Sister Jude.

She stood in the doorway like a dark omen, her presence dominating the small, dimly lit kitchen. The air around her seemed to chill, as if the very atmosphere cooled from her disapproving gaze. She didn't need to raise her voice to command attention; her mere presence demanded it. The rosary beads hanging from her waist clicked softly as she took a measured step forward, the sound eerie in the tense silence of the room.

The staff member followed the head of this asylum, his eyes flicking between Kit and you, the disdain in his expression unmistakable. "Found them, Sister Jude," he said with a cruel satisfaction. "Just like you suspected."

Kit quickly released you and his hands dropped from your hips to tug at your gown. The least he could do was to save your modesty as much as he could. The man stepped back, positioning himself slightly in front of you as if to shield you from the inevitable wrath of Sister Jude. Your heart pounded in your chest, the warmth of the moment disappearing into the cold reality of the situation just like Kit's hands. 

Sister Jude's icy gaze shifted from the staff member to Kit, and then to you, her brown irises narrowing further. "Well, well," she began loudly, her voice echoing in the silent room, cutting through the tension easily. "I always knew you had a penchant for trouble, Mr. Walker, but this . . . This is a new low, even for you." She took a step closer to you, her heels clicking ominously against the tiled floor. "And you, Miss [Last name] . . . I expected better." 

The weight of her words pressed down like a leaden shroud, suffocating any remaining trace of the warmth and connection that had filled the room just moments before. It was as if the very walls of Briarcliff had closed in around you both, trapping you in.

Kit stood his ground, though every instinct screamed at him to protect you from the storm that was about to break. His jaw clenched tightly, the muscles in his neck tensing as he fought to maintain his composure. His hands, which had just moments ago been tenderly caressing your skin, now curled into fists at his sides. But beneath that facade, there was also a flicker of fear — not for himself, but for what you might endure at the hands of Sister Jude if his plans failed. He squared his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height, and locked eyes with the cold woman before him. "It was my idea," Kit declared, his voice firm and unwavering despite the tension that crackled in the air like a live wire. "Leave her out of this." His words were a shield, a desperate attempt to keep his promise, to protect you from the consequences that he feared would be far worse for you than for him.

Sister Jude's eyes flickered with something that you couldn't quite place — an emotion that lingered somewhere between suspicion and a twisted, almost predatory satisfaction. Her thin lips curled into a faint, humorless smile, and the cold glint in her eyes seemed to sharpen, as if she were savoring the moment. She took another slow step forward and her gaze shifted from Kit to you, who stood just behind him, face paler than usual.

"Oh, I have no doubt it was, Mr. Walker," each word was enunciated with deliberate precision, as though she were savoring the power she held over the two of you. "But both of you will be held accountable for this . . . indiscretion."

"I'm the one who's responsible," Kit's voice cut through the oppressive silence with a determined edge. "It was my idea, and I should be the one held accountable. Leave [Name] out of this."

Sister Jude's expression flickered with a moment of surprise, but it quickly settled back into its usual look. Her eyes narrowed as she took in Kit's words, her mind no doubt calculating how best to respond to his unexpected act of bravery. "Very well," she said, her tone clipped and devoid of sympathy. "If you insist on taking the blame, then you will be the one to bear the consequences." The woman turned her attention to the staff member who had followed her into the kitchen. "Go to my office. Fetch the cane. The one I reserve for my favorite patients."

The staff member's brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't hesitate. He gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, disappearing through the door with a purposeful stride. The sound of his footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor as he made his way to retrieve the instrument of punishment.

Sister Jude's gaze returned to Kit and Dahlia, her expression unrelenting. "You've chosen to make this difficult for yourself, Mr. Walker," she said, her voice dripping with a cold satisfaction. "And while I commend your misguided sense of honor, it changes nothing about the punishment that awaits you. And you, miss [Last name], shall watch what happens once stupidity takes over the mind."

Your heart ached at the sight of Kit standing his ground, his body tense with the weight of his decision. You wanted to protest, to beg Sister Jude to reconsider, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the sheer weight of the situation. Instead, you reached out, your hand trembling as you grasped Kit's arm, trying to offer some measure of comfort and support.

Kit looked down at you, his eyes softening just for a moment before he turned his attention back to Sister Jude. "Whatever you're planning, I can take it."

"Your bravery is noted. But bravery will not protect you from the consequences of your actions."

The staff member returned, carrying the cane with a deliberate and solemn expression. The cane was an old-fashioned implement, its polished wood gleaming menacingly under the kitchen's harsh lights. It was a feared symbol of discipline, one that had seen many hands and many uses over the years, and its presence in the room only heightened the sense of dread.

Sister Jude took the cane from the staff member, her fingers tracing its surface with a possessive, almost reverent touch. "This is the cane I reserve for my most . . . memorable patients," she said, her voice low and chilling. "It is reserved for those who require a lesson in obedience. You will stay and watch. This is part of your lesson as well — understanding the consequences of defiance."

Kit's pants were pulled down by the staff member, exposing his bare bottom to the cold air of the kitchen. The sight of his exposed skin, vulnerable and waiting, was a sharp contrast to the determined set of his jaw. He braced himself against the edge of the kitchen counter, his knuckles white as he gripped the surface for support.

The cane was held firmly in her hand, and Sister Jude raised it with a practiced ease, preparing to deliver the first stroke. The sharp whoosh of the cane slicing through the air was followed by a resounding crack as it made contact with Kit's bare skin. The sound was a brutal reminder of the severity of the punishment, and Kit's body tensed, a muffled grunt escaping his lips as the sting of the cane seared into his flesh. The printed redness flared bright against the pale tone of his skin. 

Your eyes filled with tears as you watched, heart breaking at the sight of Kit's suffering. The sight of his reddened skin, the way his body flinched with each stroke, was almost too much to bear. Every crack of the cane seemed to echo through your own chest and you felt like throwing up. 

The punishment was relentless, each crack of the cane drawing a sharp gasp or low moan from Kit, his breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts. His eyes remained fixed straight ahead, and he tried to maintain his composure, though the strain of the punishment was evident in the tension of his muscles and the way his body shook with each hit. His only concession to the agony was the occasional clenching of his jaw and the muffled sounds that escaped him.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Sister Jude stepped back, her breath even and controlled. The cane was lowered, and she regarded Kit with a look of detached satisfaction, as if the punishment had been a necessary chore rather than an act of cruelty.

Kit's body slumped slightly, his breathing ragged and labored as he tried to regain his composure. His bottom was marked with the angry red welts of the punishment, the skin raw and tender from the relentless strokes of the cane. Your eyes were filled with anguish as you looked at him, the man who had taken the blame upon himself to protect you.

Sister Jude's gaze then turned to you, her expression one of stern disapproval, before she and the staff member exited the kitchen. "You've seen what happens when rules are broken. Let this be a lesson to you." 

Your heart raced, pulse pounding in your ears as you rushed to Kit's side. Your movements were frantic, driven by a desperate need to offer him some measure of comfort and relief from the suffering he had endured. Tears streamed down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you approached him, hands trembling more than ever as you reached out to touch him. "Kit, I'm so sorry."

Kit turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and something softer, a flicker of gratitude for your concern. He took a deep, shuddering breath and attempted to straighten up, though his body protested with each movement. "Don't," he said softly, his hand reaching out to drape over your shoulders for support. "It's not your fault. I chose this. And I would do it again."

[fourmoony]

Hey! Requesting a Remus fluff where he spots reader in the library and is completely infatuated by her. James and Sirius persuades him to go up to her and eventually builds up the courage :3

hi lovely, thank you so much for requesting! hope you enjoy :) this one realllly got away from me, but I love it sm!!! he's baby your honour...

2.3k remus x fem!reader fluff language

masterlist

Sirius has his feet kicked up on the desk, his chair balancing on its hind legs and if Remus wasn't so distracted he'd probably tell him off, make up some lie about a kid he knew when he went to primary that fell and smashed his head open, caused a scene, traumatised a teacher and a classroom full of seven year olds, the paramedics ended up coming in to do a talk on classroom safety... something like that. Sirius probably wouldn't listen anyway, but at least he'd know he tried.

But he's distracted.

For once, it's not because of James' heavy handed typing as he abuses his poor laptop's keyboard, writing and erasing, writing and erasing. And it's also not because of the obnoxious groan Sirius lets out every few minutes just to make sure Remus and James know he's still there, waiting for them to be done so they can wrap up another week of uni with a few pints at the local pub.

No, today he's fully distracted by something else.

You.

It's not fair, actually. He thinks your beauty is actually hurting him, doing something funny to his heart. Can a person's beauty physically cause heart failure? Chest pains? Maybe an anxiety attack over the existential crisis he's facing knowing he'll never be able to have you? Remus doesn't know, but he thinks James would - he's the one doing his PhD, after all. Not that Remus would ever admit to finding you so breathtakingly beautiful it's causing physical pain. No, Sirius and James would never let him live that down.

So instead, he pretends to read his textbook on astro-physics, everything he's supposed to be revising going straight over his head, while stealing glances at you two tables over. You're in your own world, furiously typing into your laptop, stopping every now and then to take a sip of the comically large coffee beside you. It's midterm season, your large coffee is warranted in Remus' humble opinion. Not that you're even aware he's in solidarity of it. James would probably have some boring medical fact about coffee stunting growth and hormones or some load of bollocks similar, but he doesn't care.

Every now and then, you'll pout at your laptop screen, tilting your head to the side like whatever is on your screen has personally offended you. It makes Remus' heart slam against his rib cage in a totally annoying, embarrassing way he wishes he could make soft. He's not a creep. Really, he's not. He knows you. Somewhat. You've met a couple times when you've been chatting to Marlene - who shares a Comms class with you - either in the library or at the pub on the occasional Friday you make an appearance with your friends. It's not like he's having these weird feelings about a stranger. Well. A complete stranger. But there's just something so startling about how kissable your lips are, so soft looking and pink, and adorable in the way your head tilts like that of a confused puppy.

Your attention leaves the screen in front of you in an instant as if you can feel Remus' pining from ten feet away, eyes scanning your surroundings, and when your eyes meet his, Remus chokes on thin air. Thin fucking air. He's so shocked you've caught him, so shocked you're actually a real person he can make eye contact with and not a figment of his imagination, that he chokes, eyes widening, and looks back down to the text book in front of him. He resigns to the awful feeling of humiliation creeping up his neck, accepts the fate of his crimson red cheeks.

"Subtle." Sirius comments, a sickening smirk that Remus just knows means he's been caught graces the former Black Heir's lips and he'd rather like to kick the two back legs out from under best friend's chair now, thanks.

Even though he knows he's been caught, Remus schools his features, because he's actually very capable of that when it comes to his friends, and returns to his book, flipping the page with what he hopes is nonchalance and shrugs, "Dunno what you're on about."

Sirius scoffs obnoxiously, just like Remus knew he would, and returns his chair back to four legs with haste, arms planted on the table in front of him and a look on his face that reads 'I hate to break it to you, but you're the most obvious bloke on the planet'. "Mate, just go over and put us all out of our misery. It's painful."

"It is, mate." James mumbles agreeably, still very much engrossed in the battering of his keyboard. It's a wonder he hasn't broken the thing, Remus thinks.

Remus rolls his eyes. If only it were that simple. How could anything be that simple when you're so infuriatingly beautiful Remus doesn't think he could get two words in to a conversation with you without making a royal twat of himself.

"You make it sound so simple, Pads, truly." Remus drawls sarcastically, eyes still downcast on the book in front of him.

He hasn't read and actually processed a single sentence since he caught sight of you on arrival. He's well and truly fucked.

Sirius scrubs his hands up and down his face like Remus' hesitance is physically paining him, "C'mon, Moony. They didn't call you the Casanova of Gryffindor House for nothing, mate."

It's Remus' turn to scoff, now. He was hardly a Casanova. Just a nice bloke who girls happened to be attracted to. But that was a private boarding school where girls had no access to the outside world apart from the odd weekend at the school's nearest village. You live in a world with people disposable at your fingertips. Coffee shop baristas, classmates, the people on the commute to your classes, there's an endless opportunity for you to meet someone of interest. And how is Remus supposed to compete with that?

"Not happening. I'll suffer in silence, thanks." Remus tells Sirius, a tight lipped smile about his face that he hopes Sirius will read as the end of the conversation.

Clearly, Sirius is no better at social cues now than when Remus first met him, because his friend rolls his eyes and returns to leaning back on his chair, legs once again kicked up onto the desk, muddy boots falling on a piece of paper Remus knows he'll probably have to rewrite, now. "All I'm saying is what do you have to lose? You ask her out she says no, you go back to staring at her like a right creep from two desks over, or," He makes a flourishing movement with his hands, ever the one for dramatics, "She says yes, you bang, fall in love, get married, have kids, etcetera, etcetera."

Sirius' smile is triumphant, like he truly believes he's some sort of genius and Remus can't help the way his lips tick up in amusement. Maybe he has a point, but anxiety still claws at Remus' chest.

"He's got a point, mate," James has pushed his laptop away from himself, his circular glasses balancing haphazardly on his forehead as he rubs tiredly at his face, "Even if he didn't, I'm still begging you to go over there just to get him," he jabs a finger at Sirius, who preens proudly, "to shut up so I can get this paper finished."

Remus sighs, mulls it over in his head, an endless list of outcomes, variables, it's what his scientist mind is programmed to think like. But he gives Sirius a look, finds his best friend staring at him earnestly, and he realises that Sirius doesn't actually see it as a big joke. He truly thinks Remus should do it.

"Fine." Remus bites, taking a breath and pushing himself out of his seat.

Sirius pumps his fists in the air so violently his chair wobbles, but Remus doesn't look back. If he does, he might turn around and give up, go back to staring from afar. God, maybe he is a creep.

You're so engrossed in whatever you're working on, you don't realise Remus hovering at the seat across from you. When you do, you jump a little, and Remus opens his mouth to apologise, but you're already speaking, a wide smile gracing your lips, features completely taken over by the kindness in your eyes - you recognise him, "Remus, right? You're friends with Marls."

Remus nods, swallows the thickness in his throat. He doesn't trust himself to talk, just yet, so he's grateful when you nod your head to the seat across from you, welcoming him to sit. You half close the lid of your laptop, offering him your full attention and wait patiently for him to talk.

"How are your midterms going, by the way?" You ask when Remus finds himself unable to start a conversation.

You don't seem put off by his apparent silence, more than happy to carry the conversation if he needs. He's grateful, because your direct question has given him a reason to speak, a boundary of the things he can say. He's not worried about shouting just how beautiful he finds you for the entire campus library to hear when he has a strict criteria of answers he can give. Well. He's less worried. It's still not impossible.

"Uh, alright, thanks. You're taking Art History, right? Hows that going?" He hopes he's not misheard Marlene's brief introduction, and he knows he hasn't when you preen at his remembrance.

You nod enthusiastically, hair bouncing over your shoulders with the movement, "Yeah! It's currently kicking my arse, but I'll pull through. I imagine it's not as hard as," you pause, brows furrowing for half a second before Remus sees a lightbulb go off behind your eyes, your smile returning, along with the smooth plane of your forehead, crease gone, "Astro-physics, right?"

Remus tries not to think about the way his entire stomach knots up and threatens to give out over the fact you know what his degree is. There's every chance Marlene has told you, like she told him your degree, but he can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you'd asked about him. Instead, he smiles dutifully, even though he can feel his somewhat calm and collected exterior melting away, "Yeah, astro-physics. But I imagine they're equally challenging in different ways."

You seem to like that answer, following along and nodding amicably to show you're listening, "I suppose you're right. Although, I think you could explain it to me like a five year old, and I'd still be lost."

Remus laughs. Not at you, but at the perplexed expression on your face as you imagine such a scenario. You shake your head out, giving him your full attention again. You're so lovely. So sweet and nice and Remus feels like he might actually have a shot, if your kindness and patience so far is anything to go on.

"If it makes you feel any better, I couldn't tell you squat about the Mona Lisa." Remus shrugs.

It's your turn to laugh, your head tilting back ever so slightly as it rocks through you. The sound is like music to Remus' ears. He decides then and there he'll do anything, forever, to get you to make that sound again. He commits it to memory, allows it to warm his chest, potential heart attack be damned.

"You're cute, Remus Lupin." You're amused as you say it, eyes shining with a kind of fondness Remus allows to steal his breath.

He thinks maybe you don't mean to say it, at first, but when your gaze holds his, confident and teasing Remus knows. He just. He knows. You're into him, too. Maybe not as deep as he's into you, but the interest is there and that's all Remus cares about.

"A few of us are going to the pub in a few for some drinks, Marlene will be there. Did you maybe want to join us?" Remus asks, an uncomfortable heat in his cheeks even though he knows you're likely to say yes.

He chuckles when you pretend to think it over, pout twisting into an amused grin when you go to speak, "Sure, Remus. I'd love to."

Remus feels like he's won some sort of gold medal, maybe the lottery. He's not sure. But what he does know is that his blood is thrumming through his veins in a way it never has before with pure elation. You're grinning ear to ear, already beginning to pack up your things. He waits patiently while you do, following your lead in standing up. You round the table, closer to him, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"Remus?" You ask, stepping into his space and he can smell your perfume, your shampoo, so sweet he thinks he's going to pass out.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"I only have one condition."

He arches an eyebrow, urges you to go on.

"Next time, it's just us two. A proper date." You smile sweetly, completely unaware of the affect your sultry voice has on Remus' already weak knees.

His breath catches in his throat as you look up at him, your tiny hand encircling his wrist oh so carefully.

"Yeah?" His voice is gravelly, lips threatening to turn up in a wicked grin, "I'm sure we can make that happen."

Just like that, you step out of Remus' space, hand dropping his wrist and your teasing smile falling back into your soft, kind grin, "Great. I'm all yours for the rest of the night, Remus."

Remus almost groans as he leads you back over to Sirius and James, who are grinning like cheshire cats as they pack up their belongings to follow suit with you and Remus. He's met his match, he thinks. You're well and truly going to be the end of him.

Not that he cares in the slightest.

[lirarere]

headcanons relationship!

with pre cult! kai anderson x gn!reader

notes: ok I came back a little later than I wanted, but ok, at least I kept my promise lol, enjoy!

warning: nothing special at the beginning, except for jealousy and self-doubt kai, maybe kai is still a little ooc! at the end there will be a moment with possession, sexual themes (not explicit), spoilers, mention of death and corpses, anyway I will leave a note before this, so read carefully!!

╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴

with the obvious: kai is an awkward virgin who has never even been kissed, he literally sits in his basement 24/7 and is the boss of reddit and 4chan and when he found you... god put a leash on him

it will literally be so difficult to tear him away from you at the beginning of the friendship, you are probably literally his only friend (not counting those very dubious dudes in the above-mentioned reddit and 4chan), of course he will be hooked on you and will be with you forever like gum on your jeans

most likely, you will confess first because he is too awkward and is afraid of rejection, he is also afraid that you will consider him an eccentric and completely reject him (he literally dreamed about this a couple of times and woke up in a cold sweat)

but when you admit... oh, be prepared that now he is not just chewing gum, but a stain that can never be removed with more than one washing powder, he has completely fallen

when you first hold his hand he has a little explosion in his head, his hand immediately becomes sweaty and sticky, you'll probably have to wash your hand (and him too) because he's a super wet boy

with kisses it will be twice as bad, if they are quick and on the cheek (most often on his initiative) then he will simply blush and wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans

if it’s on the lips, then he will lose consciousness, no, he will literally lose consciousness, his brain simply cannot withstand the overabundance of impulses and small atomic explosions in his heart and he will pass out

you are literally his first, just love him 😔

often when you hang out at his house (because he is a very antisocial person) you also often hear his parents arguing, at such moments Kai closes down and the tension in the air next to him can be felt for a kilometer. then you will try to distract him with careless kisses, talking about nothingthan watching some B-movie

most likely, he will tell some shameful secret about himself, such as: when his parents quarreled as a child (not so intensely, of course), he hid under the bed and then when he was already a more mature child/teenager. when you offer to do the same, but now he will be embarrassed and try to play "grown boy", but in the end he will crawl under the bed with you and you will casually kiss and talk about some nonsense (based on my conversation with the bot kai ♡)

speaking of parents, here are a few stories:

if you are a girl, then his father will consider you a stupid whore who only takes advantage of Kai and will leave him as soon as he has had enough (Kai is very upset, but he cannot do anything because he is afraid of his father)

if you're a guy, then kai's father definitely doesn't need to know about your relationship, he doesn't want his son to be some kind of "faggot", his father has already verbally attacked you a couple of times because he thought you weren't "manly" enough (kai still it's frustrating, but he understands that hiding is the best thingoption)

if you're genderqueer, then... well, his dad doesn't understand that, so he'll judge you based on your gender

however, his mother would accept you normally no matter who you are, even if you are a guy or genderqueer (she will get used to it)

with his brother and sister being more difficult, Winter and Vincent probably wouldn’t care? (or rather, they wouldn’t focus on it because they are busy with their own affairs) but they would be fine with the fact that their brother comes out of his shell and begins to contact at least someone

on especially difficult days, kai sometimes offers to run away to another city together, find a crappy, dirty apartment in a clearly unpleasant part of the city, find a dead-end job without career growth and live together... even if everything is bad, but at least there are no quarrels between his parents...

if you also have problems in your family, then you will become a support and consolation for each other and would always tell each other whatever you want, in the case of kai, his parents divorced, and in yours they either divorced, or if you have one toxic parent, then they would stop putting so much pressure on you... anyway you would they wanted Kai’s parents to stop putting pressure on him and yours to stop putting pressure on youif you have good parents, then Kai would definitely be jealous, but if they accepted him, he would have a reason to stay with you longer and basically hang out at your house 24/7

kai loves little moments of intimacy... he doesn't have much money, and the only thing he can give you is physical affection (which he saw in the cinema). you often lie together on the bed with your eyes closed, kai just holds your hand, pressing his nose against yours and rubbing itthumb on the back of your hand, he rarely whispers any comments and most often these are some sweet things like: “I love you”, “you make me feel freer”, “your hand is so soft”, etc.

he loves to hug you and bury his head in your chest, he loves when you run your hands on his head, sorting through the strands, he loves to lie on your lap with his nose buried in your stomach, he loves when you stroke him like a little kitten or when you gently rub him nails on his back, he lovesall the affection that you give him and will do the same for you if you ask... just let him be small for a while in your relationship, he needs it, he is tired of all this testosterone masculinity that his father is trying to stick into him

kai will try to make something with his own hands, a bracelet, a decoration for a bag (which you end up not wearing because you are afraid of losing), some kind of necklace and all that. he tries, threads, glue, or something unevenly cut, glued, etc. are always sticking out of the object, but you never throw it away...because kai did it

(spoiler: all his hands are covered in scratches, burns from hot glue, fingers are glued together somewhere and you always deal with this by covering his fingers and hands with bandages)

Kai is easily jealous, simply because he is unsure of himself and thinks that you can leave him for another person and because of this you have frequent quarrels, because he thinks that you are about to leave (he always apologizes almost on my knees asking for forgiveness because I’m afraid of losing you)

but when he sees you with another person, it takes a lot of time to explain to Kay that this person is just a friend and nothing more, if for some reason you fail to explain (you don’t find out what he saw) he will cry, think a lot and think a lot (take the poor guy to a psychologist)

he lies that you are so beautiful, successful, kind, of course everyone wants you, and he is just an insecure guy without a job who can’t even kiss you normally because he is shy, of course you will leave him sooner or later for a more successful person, just convince him that this is not so and youboth are losers (it’s better this way because if you tell him that he’s good, he won’t believe it because he knows it’s not true)

warning!! this is where more disturbing themes begin, if you don’t want to read about obsession, then skip it!

when his parents die... oh he will definitely become more dependent on you and will literally need you

he will do anything to keep you close to him, he will become more intrusive

when you leave, you must tell him where, why, with whom, how much, otherwise he will interrupt your phone with calls and texts and hysterics

his father doesn't accept you anyway, so he will just one day take you to his parents' corpses and say something like "now they will accept us because they won't have a choice", one day he will ask you to have sex in front of their corpses... have sex while the corpses are basically lying in the houseit's already tense... so you refuse and he'll sulk a little but acceptin principle, after the death of his parents, he felt a little better and he had some kind of confidence, so he is still putty in your hands, but it’s not a pity, simply because he is now obsessed with you (not as much as if he were a cult leader! kai, but still obsessed)

he doesn’t control you in everything, he just doesn’t want you to get hurt, that’s why he runs after you like a puppy

however, nothing will change much, except that he will begin to consider you a god/goddess, but this is still tolerable and worse will obviously await you in the future.

╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴

notes: phew!! I’m unlikely to check this text for errors, so don’t let it be too obvious haha. I'm obsessed with pre cult kai so there will most likely be a lot of content coming out for that too!

masterlist

♡rere

[fayesia]

Day 3 - toys

"Escape" - Kit Walker x reader

ִֶָ𓂃˖ ִֶָ✰࿐ warnings - use of vibrator (m and f), p in v, multiple orgasms, squirting

ִֶָ𓂃˖ ִֶָ✰࿐ wc - 673

You and Kit escaped together. It was an expedition filled with experiences only the two of you could share. Both of you had only gotten closer since.

Close enough that you were positioned on your back while Kit thrusted into you, his dick stretching you out in a way you hadn't felt in a while.

"Fuck...yes keep going baby"

"Yeah, you like that, squeezing around me so tight."

His arms curled around you thighs, your eyes entranced by the way his biceps grew more defined. Leaning down, he whispered into your ear, hot breath blowing against your earlobe as he grunted with each thrust.

"Think it'd be a good time to try now honey"

Quickly nodding your head, any attempts to speak were cut off by your moans. Leaning beside you, Kit bent over to open your bedside drawer, pulling out your vibrator while you clenched around half of his dick still inside of you.

Bringing his attention back to you, he lifted one of legs to spread you wider, fully entering back into you while pressing the vibrator to your clit at the same time. Whining out your back arched, fighting to pull away from the stimulation but yearning for the need to be filled by Kit's cock.

"So good for me, taking me all in..fuck you're so tight."

Kits lips grazed from your neck to your mouth, the contact muffling your moans as he ups the strength of the vibrator. You felt like you couldn't breathe, the pleasure numbing your mind and weakening your limbs to the point where you had no control.

You could still feel the mess you were making though, your wetness coating the vibrator and both yours and Kits' thighs. His eyes followed the mess you made, watching his length disappear inside of you with a small smirk on his face.

Digging his face against the crook of your neck, you grabbed onto Kits hair while his mouth bit and nibbled against your skin.

"Omg I'm gonna come, wait..wait"

Pushing the vibrator up and down your clit you moaned out once more before releasing along Kits length, the liquid making the sex sound almost louder. The loud squelching was mixed into the rhythm of his hips smacking against your own thighs.

Standing back up, Kit's dick stood fully erect, watching him with a lulled expression while you caught your breath. Pushing your legs tight against your shoulders, you felt the strain in your legs but the feeling of the vibrator back against your wet pussy overrode the pain.

After a few more minutes of this Kit moved the wand away just before you were going to climax again, still dripping down your thighs, as he places his cock on top of your pussy. He moved in between your lips, mixing liquids which made friction easier. Shocking you when he placed the vibrator on top of his dick, Kits mouth dropping open to moan out at the stimulation against his tip.

"Oh fuck-right there. Feels so good honey"

You whimpered out feeling the vibrations as well, as his dick moved across you, his thrusting becoming faster and more furious. His red leaking tip rubbed against your clit when your eyes rolled back in absolute pleasure.

"Gonna cum baby, cum all over you..come with me please honey. God love you so much."

"Y-yes feels so good ahh"

Looking down, you watched Kits hips stutter as he tried to keep his pace up until finally he groaned out an almost animalisitic noise. His thick ropes of cum shot from his tip, spreading across the expanse of your stomach, almost reaching your neck while you at the same time came once more, the climax rendering you immobile for a few seconds as you whined out.

Moving off of you Kit threw the toy to the side of the bed grabbing some tissues to clean the two of you up.

"Guess there's no saving the mess you made on the sheets huh?"

Giggling you replied, "Guess not, but that's your fault isn't it."

Kinktober Masterlist