#like in his head he just has the urge to pick them up by the scruff of their neck and cary them around

[darksturnz]

── ⋮ ⌗ “FUCKIN’ TAKE IT. . .” ⟢ BF.ᐟMATT ᵎᵎ

CONTENTS: smut heavy-plot ・unprotected p n v・part two to THIS ・ this was requested!

His words replay in your mind, looping, sinking deep.

M’gonna make you the prettiest momma ever, ‘kay?

It’s filthy. It’s possessive. It’s exactly what you didn’t know you needed to hear.

A quiet whimper slips past your lips before you can stop it. You try to suppress it, biting down on the inside of your cheek, but Matt catches it—of course he does. His smirk is slow, knowing, dripping with amusement as he dips his head to press a kiss just below your ear.

“Didn’t answer me, sweetheart.” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s an edge to it now, something rougher, something hungry. His fingers press into your thighs, urging you forward, making you grind against him just a little harder. “Y’gotta tell me if that’s what you want.”

Your breath stutters. “Matt—”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t ease up, doesn’t let you shy away from the heat between you. His lips ghost over your jaw, down to the sensitive spot beneath it, where he knows you always melt for him. “Use your words, baby.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, humiliated by how quickly you unraveled, by how easily he turned your ache into something entirely different. But Matt doesn’t let you drift too far into your own head—he never does. His hands are patient, coaxing, always knowing exactly what you need before you even realize it yourself.

One of them slides up your back, threading into your hair as he tilts your head, forcing you to look at him. His gaze is heavy, burning into you, his pupils wide, dark, consuming.

“C’mon, sweet girl,” he murmurs, lips barely brushing against yours, teasing but not giving. “can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

Your body betrays you before your mouth can. Your hips shift instinctively, chasing friction, chasing him. His hold tightens in response, and the sharp inhale he takes tells you everything you need to know—he’s feeling it, too.

You swallow hard, embarrassment burning beneath the want. “I just—” Your voice is unsteady, barely a whisper. “I just need you.”

Matt hums in approval, his fingers flexing, pulling you flush against him. “Yeah?” His lips finally, finally press against yours, a slow, deep kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. “let me take care of you.”

His hands move with purpose, trailing lower, dipping beneath the hem of his shirt that swallows your frame, slipping past the last barrier between you.

His fingers push your panties to the side, barely brushing over your soaked cunt before pressing in deep, curling just right, sending a sharp pulse of pleasure straight through your core. His other hand grips your thigh, holding you still as he works you open, taking his time, watching the way you fall apart in his lap.

“Already so fuckin’ wet,” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement. “Barely touched you.”

You whimper, your hips rolling against his hand, desperate for more. But before you can even reach for him, before you can beg, he groans low, frustrated.

His cock is straining against his sweats, the fabric damp where he’s leaking against it, and he exhales sharply before yanking them down just enough to free himself. The thick head of him presses against your entrance, rubbing against your clit for a moment before he lines up and sinks inside in one slow, unrelenting thrust.

The stretch has you gasping, nails digging into his shoulders, but he doesn’t give you a moment to process it before—

“Matt! Where the fuck are you kid?”

His teammate’s voice from the headset he threw onto the desk startles you, breaking through the haze.

Your breath catches, your body tensing, but Matt barely reacts. He exhales through his nose, visibly annoyed, then reaches over, picking up the headset. His other hand remains firm on your waist, keeping you completely still with his cock buried deep inside you.

He un-mutes.

“Right here,” he says, completely level, voice smooth, steady, like he’s not currently splitting you open. “What’re you yellin’ for, told you my girl was sleeping”

Your nails dig deeper into his skin, your hips shifting instinctively, desperate for movement, for relief, but he doesn’t budge.

You whimper softly, barely able to think past the need clawing through you, but Matt—cruel, infuriatingly hot Matt—just picks up his controller and returns to his game.

You try again, grinding against him, but all it earns you is a sharp squeeze to your thigh—a silent warning.

His mic mutes.

“What?” His voice is lazy, rough, thick with something darker. “You wanted it, didn’t you? So fuckin’ take it.”

Your breath stutters.

You have no choice—he’s not going to move, not going to help you.

So you do as you’re told.

You start slow, rolling your hips, testing, adjusting to the thick stretch of him. The burn in your thighs is immediate, but it’s nothing compared to the ache between your legs, the desperate need for friction, for more.

You whimper, pressing closer, your arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Matt,” you plead, voice shaking. “Please—please move—”

His mic unmutes.

“Matt, cover me dipshit—fuck—”

“That’s on you dude, I’m hitting my shots” he mutters, completely indifferent, but his fingers flex on your hips, betraying his composure.

It’s unbearable—the slow build of pleasure, the strain in your legs, the torture of knowing he could so easily take control but won’t.

Eventually, your body gives out.

Your thighs tremble violently, burning with exertion, and you falter, collapsing against him with a frustrated whimper.

His mic mutes.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His voice is soft now, teasing, taunting.

You shake your head, fingers clutching at his shirt. “Can’t,” you whisper. “Need you—please.”

His hand slides up your back, pressing you close, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“Yeah?” His breath is warm, thick with amusement. “You given up already?”

You nod frantically, too far gone for embarrassment. “Please, Matt—need you so bad.”

Matt groans, the sound low and wrecked, and that’s all it takes—his own patience snaps.

His hand flies to his headset, tearing it off. “Nate—I’m getting off.”

“What? We’re in the middle of—”

Matt doesn’t even wait for a full response before exiting the game entirely.

The screen goes dark for a moment before his PC background illuminates the room—a picture of you curled against his chest, tangled in his sheets, the soft glow casting light across his sharp features.

And then he moves.

The first thrust is brutal, knocking the breath from your lungs, and then he’s pounding into you, gripping your waist, pulling you down to meet each deep, punishing stroke.

“This what you need?” he growls against your ear, voice rough, breath ragged. 

You nod frantically, moaning his name, nails dragging down his back.

His grip on your waist is tight, almost bruising, holding you in place as he drives into you. The wet, obscene sounds of it fill the dimly lit room, mixing with the soft whimpers spilling from your lips, with the ragged, uneven breaths against your ear.

He doesn’t ease up, doesn’t slow down—just takes you, hips snapping up into yours with a brutal rhythm, pulling you down every time you start to lift yourself off of him, making sure you feel every single inch.

You sob against his shoulder, overwhelmed, body shaking, thighs trembling from the sheer force of it. Your hands fist the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

And maybe he is.

“You feel that?” His voice is a low growl against your ear, rough, breath ragged, laced with something dark, something possessive. “Gonna let me put my baby in you?”

You nod frantically, barely able to form words, your breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps. Your nails drag down his back, digging into the hard muscle beneath his shirt, and he groans, sharp and guttural, his pace stuttering for just a second before he recovers.

“Fuck—” His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you down harder, making you take him deeper. “Wish I knew—knew you wanted this sooner.”

You whimper, pressing your forehead against his, nodding weakly. “Wanna have your baby,” you breathe, barely coherent, voice small and wrecked. “Want you, Matt—please.”

His jaw clenches, his breath hitching slightly. His hips slow for a fraction of a second, like he’s processing it—your desperation, your need for him—before he lets out a sharp exhale and picks up the pace again, fucking into you with a newfound urgency.

And at this point, you don’t even care how loud you are, how utterly wrecked you sound. You just hold onto him, sobbing his name, letting him take exactly what he wants—letting him give you exactly what you need.

Matt’s grip tightens, his fingers digging into your hips with a bruising force, guiding you, controlling every desperate shift of your body. The force of his thrusts sends you bouncing in his lap, each deep stroke shoving you further into the mattress of his chair, forcing you to take him exactly how he wants.

Your legs are trembling, thighs burning from the earlier effort, but it doesn’t matter—not when he’s finally giving you what you begged for, not when every sharp snap of his hips has you spiraling closer to the edge.

“Shiiiittt,” he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, teeth scraping against your skin. “So fuckin’ tight—gripping me—”

You whimper in response, barely able to hold yourself up anymore. Your arms loop around his neck, fingers tangling into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, nails scratching lightly against his scalp as you cling to him.

Matt grunts, a sharp exhale against your skin, before he shifts slightly, planting his feet firmly against the floor.

Then he really starts to fuck you.

The rhythm turns relentless, deep and rough, his hips lifting off the chair to meet every downward roll of yours. The chair creaks beneath you, the obscene slap of skin-on-skin filling the space between your ragged breaths, between the filthy, low groans Matt presses into your throat.

“You takin’ it, sweet girl?” His voice is rough, nearly wrecked, but still teasing, still cruel. “This what you were cryin’ for?”

Your only response is a choked sob, your head falling back, eyes squeezing shut as heat builds low in your stomach, tightening, coiling, ready to snap.

Matt’s mouth is on you immediately—lips dragging down the column of your throat, teeth grazing over sensitive skin before he bites, sucking a mark into the dip of your shoulder, his own way of branding you, of making sure you feel him even after this.

The pressure is unbearable now, your body trembling, overstimulated and desperate, but you still want more.

“Matt,” you gasp, voice barely a whisper. “Close—gonna—”

He exhales sharply, his grip on you turning brutal. His hands move down, sliding to the backs of your thighs, spreading you open even more as he pounds into you, pushing you right to the edge, forcing you into it.

“Then come for me,” he mutters against your skin, his voice pure sin, pure need. “C’mon, baby—let me feel it.”

Your body locks up, the pressure finally snapping, pleasure crashing over you in waves so intense it nearly knocks you unconscious. You sob against his shoulder, every muscle in your body going taut as you clench around him, shaking, unraveling completely.

Matt curses beneath his breath, the sensation sending him straight into his own undoing. His thrusts turn frantic, messy, his breath hot against your skin.

Then you clarify it—

“Inside—please, Matt—inside,” you gasp, barely coherent, but completely, utterly serious.

His entire body tenses. He didn’t really think you’d actually let him, but he wasn’t complaining either.

His jaw clenches, his grip on you tightening to the point of pain, and then he slams deep one final time, burying himself inside you completely, holding you still as he fills you, groaning deep in his chest.

The only sound left is your heavy, uneven breaths, the soft hum of his PC still glowing behind him, the slight creak of the chair as he slumps forward, wrapping his arms around you.

His lips find your temple, soft, warm, pressing against your damp skin as he exhales, still catching his breath.

His voice is lower now, hoarse, rough, but serious.

“Y’know I mean it, right?” he murmurs against your skin. “Not just sayin’ shit, I will give you all the babies you want, sweetheart.”

authors note: spectacular gimme 14 of ‘em!

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife

@pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111

@pvssychicken @mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo

@lovergirl4gracieabrams @bluestriips @sturniolo-fann @chrisslut04 @owensbabygirl @sturnslutz @sturniqlo @sofieeeeex @jadasmp4 @ncm9696 @courta13 @vanteguccir @whore4mattsturniolo

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Special Delivery

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, possessive Simon, arguments, annoyance (spouse and nonspouse annoyance)

Author’s Note: Simon forgot some stuff at home, you are a firecracker if anyone has ever seen one so here we are. Inspired by one of my favs @bi-writes and her younger!wife x John Price fic

Masterlist | Bi’s Fanfic

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

It starts with a text.

My Ghostie: Forgot my wallet.

Then another.

My Ghostie: And my lunch.

And another.

My Ghostie: ...And the file on my desk.

You stare at your phone, lips pressing into a flat line. Unbelievable. You love your husband, truly, but some days? Some days he tests your patience.

With a sigh, you gather everything—his wallet, his carefully packed lunch, and the stupid file he swore he wouldn’t forget—before grabbing your keys. You could ignore it, let him suffer, but you both know you won’t.

Which is how you find yourself at the base entrance, staring down a soldier who looks entirely unimpressed with your existence. Arms crossed, legs planted apart, like he’s guarding the last bastion of civilization.

“I can’t just let you in, ma’am.” His voice is flat, bored, like this is the most mundane problem he’s dealt with all day.

You, on the other hand, are vibrating with irritation. “Look,” you huff, adjusting the duffel bag on your shoulder and waving the brown paper lunch bag in your other hand. “I’m not some crazy stalker trying to infiltrate your little clubhouse. My husband, Simon Riley, left his wallet, his lunch, and some other important stuff at home, and I’m just here to drop it off.”

The guard doesn’t budge. “Can’t confirm that without proper clearance.”

Your patience is wearing thin. You exhale sharply, then, with slow, deliberate movements, hold up a very distinct leather wallet between two fingers and shake it slightly. “Alright, genius, let’s use some logic. If I wasn’t supposed to be here, do you think I’d just so happen to have Ghost’s actual shit?”

The man hesitates, clearly uncertain. “That… that could belong to anyone—”

“Oh my God,” you groan, resisting the urge to fling the wallet at him. “If I was trying to sneak onto base, don’t you think I’d pick something a little less obvious?”

You go in for the kill. Flipping open the wallet, you shove it right into his face. “Does that look like just anyone to you?”

The poor bastard leans in, eyes locking onto the ID tucked inside. His face blanches.

It’s right there. Simon’s name. Simon’s face. Your husband’s face.

“…I mean, I still can’t—”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Alright, listen here, Private Dumbass.” You shift your stance, letting the overhead lights catch the big-ass rock sitting pretty on your ring finger. You tap it against the metal of the gate for good measure. *Clink, clink.* “See this? This means I can make your life very difficult.”

The man stiffens. You decide to twist the knife. “I may not have rank here, but I am married to a lieutenant. And if you don’t let me through in the next ten seconds, I will personally make it my mission to have you running laps around this base until your legs fall off.”

He stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. “You… you can’t do that.”

You smirk. “You sure about that? ’Cause my husband definitely can.”

That does it. With a sigh, he gestures for another soldier to let you through. “Fine, fine. Go.”

“Damn right,” you mutter, marching past him with your head held high.

Smart man.

——

After waiting at the gate for so long, you storm onto the base with a paper bag in one hand and a duffel slung over your shoulder, exuding confidence as your boots click against the concrete. The guards barely had time to stop you before a sharp-tongued remark had them stepping aside, unsure if they were more intimidated by your presence or impressed by your sheer audacity.

Simon’s dumbass forgot his lunch, his wallet, and a few other essentials, and you’ll be damned if he goes without just because he’s too stubborn to admit he needs you. He might be the terrifying "Ghost" to everyone else, but to you, he’s just your husband—the same man who forgets his keys and leaves his socks all over the damn house.

Walking into the common area is like stepping into a lion’s den—if lions had the audacity to gawk at you like a bunch of wide-eyed recruits seeing their drill sergeant off duty for the first time. A few soldiers are loitering, some cleaning their gear, others playing cards, but the moment they spot you, their focus shifts. You can practically hear their thoughts.

Who the hell is this?

Why does she look like she owns the place?

Did we miss a briefing?

The most unsubtle reaction comes from a particularly cheeky Scot lounging with his feet kicked up on a chair.

“Well, now,” Soap drawls, an impish grin spreading across his face. “And who might you be?”

You don’t bother stopping. “Not in the mood, Braveheart. Where’s Simon?”

Soap lets out a low whistle. “Oi, no need to be feisty, lass. Maybe if ye tell me who ye are, I can help.”

You sigh, shift the duffel on your shoulder, and lift your left hand just enough for the overhead light to catch on the massive wedding ring decorating your finger.

“His wife.”

The room goes silent.

Soap’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. His mouth opens, closes, then—“No shit.”

“No shit,” you confirm dryly. “And unless you lot want to deal with a grumpy, starving Ghost, you’ll tell me where he is. Now.”

Before anyone can answer, a deep, familiar voice rumbles through the space.

“Don’t need to.”

The effect is instant. The tension in the room shifts as every soldier in the vicinity straightens instinctively.

You turn just as Simon strides in, the mask covering his face doing nothing to hide the sheer command he carries with every step. He looks at you, and even though his expression is unreadable, you feel the weight of his gaze.

“The hell are you doin’ here?”

You plant a hand on your hip, tilting your chin up. “Bringing you your shit.” You shove the paper bag into his chest before shrugging the duffel off your shoulder and letting it drop at his feet. “Your lunch. Your wallet. And the file you swore up and down you wouldn’t forget.”

Simon catches everything with practiced ease, his gaze dropping briefly to the items before flicking back to you. “…I would’ve managed.”

You snort. “Yeah? And by ‘managed,’ you mean sulking around all day, hangry as hell, making everyone else suffer for it?”

A muffled snicker comes from Soap. Simon’s head *slowly* turns toward him. The room collectively holds its breath.

Soap lifts his hands innocently. “What? She’s got a point.”

You smirk, smug. “See? Even he agrees with me.”

Simon exhales sharply, a sound you know is the closest thing to a fond sigh. Then, before you can react, he hooks a hand around your waist and tugs you in, pressing your body flush against his. It’s firm, grounding, and entirely possessive. His fingers spread wide over the small of your back, holding you there like he’s making sure you’re real.

“You shouldn’t’ve come all this way,” he mutters, voice softer now.

“You love when I show up unannounced.”

His grip tightens slightly. You know you’ve won. His hand moves to your hip, pulling you even closer if that was possible. His touch was firm but gentle, grounding you in a sense. You tilt your head up at him, grinning. “Besides, I know you missed me.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he rumbles, though there’s no real heat behind it.

“And you’re lucky I love your grumpy ass.” You grin up at him, reaching up to brush your fingers over the side of his mask. “Eat your lunch, alright? I made sure it’s still warm.”

A long beat passes before Simon finally responds.

“…Yeah. Alright.”

Soap mutters something under his breath, and Simon growls, “MacTavish, if you don’t shut it—”

But before he can finish, you press a quick kiss to his mask-covered cheek. His grip tightens slightly, and you catch the subtle shift in his stance. Oh yeah, he missed you.

“Well, my work here is done,” you say, stepping back with a playful salute. “Try not to forget anything else next time, yeah?”

Simon grunts, his version of a reluctant thank you. But as you turn to leave, you hear him mutter, “Get home safe, love.”

As you turn to leave, you call to your husband, “Oh, by the way—told the guy at the gate he’s gotta run laps for giving me a hard time. Make sure he actually does it, yeah?”

You shoot him a wink over your shoulder before strutting out, leaving a room full of stunned soldiers—and one very flustered Ghost—behind.

You don’t stay to hear the response, but you do catch the sound of Soap absolutely losing it as you step out the door.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[oceantornadoo]

ch11 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: a little piss bc reader is refused a toilet. some light torture scenes and violence.

“Where. Is. She.” Ghost slams John against the wall, his forearm to John’s throat. The man’s snarling, an unrestrained beast in a mask. The world zeroes in on the gaze between them, the terrible acceptance that they have a shared weakness. A shared weakness who is gone, potentially dead. All they can do is beat the rotted carcass of this feeling until it breaks. 

Thirty minutes earlier

For the past two hours, there’s been something vibrating under John’s skin. It was there when he pulled Gaz by his collar in the store, searching the man’s eyes for deceit. It was there when he eventually let him down, satisfied with the steel reflecting back at him. It was there when someone handed him his wife’s phone, the screen filled with unread text messages from him asking to get dinner and talk it all out. It followed him all the way to the Castle.

Gaz relocates them quickly, saying he has more devices back at home. John’s home, your home, your shared home. The whole car ride John’s knee shakes up and down, nervous energy permeating the air. All he does is replay your last conversation over and over.��

“I am trapped, John.”

“No matter how I feel about you now, I didn’t pick this marriage.” 

“I can’t even tell if you like me for me or my proximity.”

“I need to go to work before I say something I’ll regret.”

The words swarm through his head like wasps, picking at the insecurities he hides everyday. The worries that you wouldn’t pick him in a normal world, that this has been pillowtalk to pass the days. If you love something you’re supposed to let it go, but he can’t decide between being noble and hoarding you until you forget what life was like before captivity. And of course, all of these thoughts assume you’re alive. He hasn’t let himself consider the full possibility that Shepherd has hurt you in ways that would defile your mind and your body, never leaving you whole again. It all coalesces into an evil energy, vibrating under his skin as the London streets roll by outside the car.

Gaz leads John into the security room with words not meant for him. Murmurs to the house staff, directions ordered over ear pieces. They blur and buzz in John’s eardrums, these damn wasps becoming parasites. He’s too old to consider hunting you himself, knows that he has to trust his man, but the urge is there anyways. Thoughts of escalating into straight warfare, bombing Shepherd’s home without any care for the innocents within. 

That’s what he’s thinking about when Ghost arrives, dragging in coattails of vengeance and dread.

Now

“Stand down, Ghost. This ain’t helpin’.” He croaks out against the pressure in his throat. Ghost’s eyes flare, soulless black pits that see too much. They search John’s, within and around, poking and prodding at the emotions he’s been holding in for the hour since he learned his wife is gone. Whatever Ghost finds is enough, John deemed worthy not to die by the loosening of Ghost’s grip. They pant as one, wishing they had never let themself love a woman enough to destroy their dynasties for her.

The world resumes as Ghost turns away. No one mentions the threat, the way John would have let the guilt drown him if Ghost didn’t. John should have pushed harder, should’ve accompanied you to the store instead of letting you go in his shirt with a faint goodbye on your lips. Like you knew what would happen and went anyway, just to see how far his heart could stretch until it tears.

MacTavish is murmuring low calming words to Ghost, unintelligible over the hum of computers and screens. In this room, all pretense is given up, one man’s hand stroking the other’s. To have a half of a soul live outside the body is a dangerous thing, even more when attacks come from all sides. If he squints, there’s a flash of your glare in Ghost’s, the same half-tilted frown hidden by the mask. It’s like you’re haunting him, no, taunting him with the fact that he’s lost you and now he has to deal with your ghost. It’s all his fault, but he lets the pity fester inside instead of releasing it on everyone else.

“Update, Garrick?” Another croak, a near two minutes after the incident. This is why Gaz is his heir - all he does is hand John the nearest iPad without a mention as to what happened. John reads the screen fast, a list of possible abandoned warehouses near Shepherd locations. It makes sense but the timing is all wrong. He’d expected this if things had been quiet, but there was another scrap between Price men and Shepherd men last night. This kidnapping must have been calculated by someone separate, someone like Phil with a solo mission. He should’ve killed the man when he found out he was working (almost) alone with his wife.

“It’ll be somewhere symbolic. Shepherd likes to make a statement.” Garrick mentions. John hands the tablet silently to Ghost, an offering of peace. In the corner of his eye, he can see MacTavish conferring with Mare, the head of the weapons team, speaking a language only the two of them know. The man frowns, then shakes his head at something Mare says. “Dinnae work like tha’.” It travels over the distance of the room, confusing John enough that he walks over to learn what’s happening.

“Report?” Mare is a bit skittish but cool-headed in times of need, the reason he hired the first ever woman on a Price Family leadership team. He trusts her and her chemistry degrees, plus her sense of urgency. “Sir, we’ve just received word that the weapons stores have been compromised.” It’s like a pin drop, other conversations falling silent as she speaks. “Meaning?” He asks, toeing the line of impatience. “Shepherd’s men struck last night, around the same time as the street fight. We believe it was coordinated between that and the kidnapping to hide it as long as possible. They cut the WiFi, so we only found out during the shift change. All the guards were killed and the weapons taken.” 

John prides himself on acting like a real corporate boss, restrained and professional. However, this is his last fucking straw. “You’re saying Shepherd took my fucking weapons, then my fucking wife? How the hell does this happen?” Ghost grunts at the word ‘wife’ but John ignores it, too focused on the situation at hand. Instead of answering, Mare’s eyes flit around the room. Since it was converted from two bedrooms, it fits up to thirty people and is currently at capacity. He can read his employee too well, and knows she’s nervous about the many ears around. While he usually trusts his people with his life, it’s been an odd day and he decides to err on the side of caution. 

“Mare an’ everyone related t’ me, this way.” There’s an elevator to the upper floor in the back of the room. Ghost and MacTavish fall in line, but Garrick seems frozen and unsure. “Gaz, that includes you.” They don’t acknowledge the head nod, brushing elbows as John hits the elevator button. Once all five are in, John hits the emergency stop between floors, leaving them in purgatory. “Speak.” He instructs Mare.

“There’s a mole. It’s the only way they could have gotten in. I designed that facility myself, sir, and there’s no way they could have gotten in with the tools and soldiers they have. Unless our intel was wrong, and I don’t think it was, we have a rat.” Her words echo in the metal chamber. She meets MacTavish’s eyes and he nods in confirmation. 

“Price.” Ghost grunts, his first words in a while. “It’s someone in that room. They’d hav’ to be on yer security.” John nods at his words and turns to Gaz. “How much longer to narrow down locations?” The man still seems flustered by John’s earlier words and needs a nudge to the shin to spit it out. “An hour, tops. We’re thinking of an abandoned weapons facility or church. Something about what he stole, weapons or marriage.” John grunts at the symbolism of it all. “I’m the first one there.” He demands. “Sir, I-” John turns to look his second in the eye. “I’m the first there.” Gaz nods. John turns back to Ghost and MacTavish, staring at him with twin glares of violence.

“Right, men. We got a rat t’ catch.”

-

“You don’t know what I’d do to find ya and keep ya.”

John’s words echo through your mind as you eye Phil, standing in the corner with a water bottle. You haven’t peed since this morning, 12 hours ago, and he knows. Taunting words sung with a Southern accent, promising a toilet in return for the weapon codes. He’s banking on your embarrassment, that you won’t want to piss yourself in this hellhole. Too bad for him you don’t like to listen to what men tell you to do.

“C’mon, sugar. Know ya got t’ go. Give me the codes an’ I got a nice lil’ bathroom for you. Even has one of those bidets.” You shake your head, refusing. Your bladder is pushing against your stomach, tension growing with every breath. It wouldn’t be too bad if he hadn’t kept feeding you water. You think you’re on bottle six now, what seemed like a blessing turned into a curse.

“Fine. Time f’ another one.” He unscrews and steps to your side, checking your handcuffs before coming near your mouth. It’s like he’s under orders not to hurt you physically. There’s been no beatings, no threat of knives or guns. He needs you alive, and you’re pretty sure you know why. The weapons require both a code and an eye scan, something you can’t fake with a dead body. Johnny created the code section and Gaz added the eye scan later, his coding skills a thing of beauty. His quick thinking is the only thing keeping you alive.

Water pours down your throat. He presses down your tongue to force you to swallow every last drop. When he leans over you, it’s like rose-colored glasses have been removed. His blond hair is limp, face sweaty with concentration. Gone is the charming assistant, bright and fun. You bet he needs you to stay alive for his own safety, his life relying on it.

As water slips into your belly, the pressure to pee goes stronger. With a dirty hand, he pushes on your stomach, and you whine in discomfort. He shouldn’t be touching you, especially in a place so sensitive. The loss of body autonomy is your biggest fear, whether it be motherhood or this. Only John would understand, you think, berating yourself for being so stupidly stubborn. That’s when you make up your mind, to still have control over the one thing you can.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re fuckin’ disgusting, you dirty bitch.” The piss soaks your jeans and, with enough force, dribbles on his shoe. Phil jumps away in disgust, eyes hardened into flint as he glares at you. “Fuck you.” You spit out. A glob of it lands near his shoe, making him jump again. You almost pity how weak he is enough to torture a woman for a living. Almost.

“You’re gonna be sorry you did that.” He bites back. Phil glances at the mirror and for the first time in hours, you let yourself feel a lick of fear. You’re pretty sure you know who his boss is, someone too violent for the games you���re playing. “You’re pathetic, you know that?” Is what you can muster. Instead of answering, he shakes off his shoe and knocks on the door. When it opens, there’s a person in full PPE, holding a metal tray with a filled syringe. You jolt back, but the chair is bolted to the ground and doesn’t allow you to move.

“Wait, please, Phil-” He’s fast, shooting something into your arm. Everything goes dark after that.

-

Gaz was right. It only took an hour. 

But it takes longer than that to rule out each location. It’s been 24 hours, and they haven’t found you yet.

John insists on checking out every place by himself, as does Ghost. They’re even-keeled enough to split up to make it go faster but insist on Gaz scrounging up more earpieces so they can keep in constant contact. They slept in shifts too, six-hour blocks once it hit midnight, so they weren’t trudging through their search. Johnny stays back to work with the engineers on testing the security system he designed, while Gaz comes along with whoever is searching. The four of them stay on their own radio channel like a task force, acting more military than mafia. 

They start from the inner city and expand outwards. It’s methodical. It’s calculated. It’s the exact strategy Gaz planned months ago when the marriage was proposed. He’s the clearest headed out of all of them but there’s still a bite to his tone, a tension in his shoulders, a furrow in his brow. If John wasn’t so out of it himself, he’d be glad that his right-hand man seems to care for his wife. 

They sweep warehouses top to bottom. John tugs on every alliance he has, every favor owed. They get pledges of loyalty from smaller gangs, who do their own searches as well. It’s so much and yet not enough because John Price does not have his fucking wife in his hands. Your shampoo scent is not in his nose, your laughter is not in his ears, your waist is not in his grasp. You are gone and he is at fault for not protecting you.

“Focus, Price.” They’ve both slept and are now in their third church in the past 90 minutes. It’s abandoned like the rest of them, creaking doors and blown out windows. They’ve gotten into a rhythm now, sweeping the building efficiently. You’re not there. They finish in twenty minutes, Gaz outside on the phone with the rest of the crew. When they emerge, he stands tall at attention. 

“Sir, we’ve got a hit.”

-

“How you feeling, hun?” The world is woozy, half-tilt on a rollercoaster. You sway from right to left, only steadying when firm hands grasp your shoulders. Your eyes flutter, vision blurring in technicolor. You’re somewhere else, with paintings on the walls and carpet on the floors. That’s when you do a body scan and realize you’re not in the clothes you were kidnapped in.

You jerk away from the man touching you. The wooden chair you’re strapped to falls to the floor and takes you with it. He tries to pick you up, moving in a blur of dark grey, but you thrash away like a fish out of water. His touch is poison, and you fear it was him who undressed you, him who saw you naked against your will. “Get away from me!” You screech, vocal cords sore from disuse. The man’s hands are gnarled crooked things, clawing at your shoulders until your chair is straight again. You try to flinch but your miniscule reactions are still slurry from whatever you were injected with. Once you’re straight, you bite back a gasp.

It’s him. The General. Shepherd. 

Square face with a buzzcut. Weathered and old with a cruel gleam in his eye. He sits back down into a chair in front of yours. This one is red leather, squeaking comfortably with weight as he sits down. The man was in the army in a past life, hence the styling of The General. He wears dark slacks and an army-like jacket. The bravado of it disgusts you. A title like that should be earned, not worn like play clothes. You put on your brave face and sneer at him, a cat backed into an alley.

“I see why John likes you.” He looks you up and down like he can see through your clothes. You flinch against your will. “You don’t deserve to say his name.” You bite. He laughs jarringly. “Fucking brat is what you are. Even got Phil under your spell.” That’s news to you. It’s certainly at odds with his behavior. You don’t react, easing your features into a smooth mask.

“I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t have the codes.” He stares at you dead-eyed. “Not necessary. We don’t need the codes.” He’s bluffing. You’re willing to bet your life on the hard work of Johnny and Gaz. There’s absolutely no way, no workaround. That’s when you get an idea.

“Oh yeah? You’re just going to put me in front of the eye scanner and go from there?” He frowns like you’ve figured out his plan. You almost laugh. “Too bad. You’re still missing a step.” That reels him in. Shepherd sits forward, elbows on his knees, searching your gaze for a lie. You raise your brows defiantly. “What, don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out?” He squints harder at your words. 

“My brother’s old school. Doesn’t trust technology, or anybody else.” It’s certainly true. Simon’s well-known for not trusting people. Even the General looks intrigued. “What are you sayin’?” He murmurs. It’s like you’re holding a prophecy in his hands. Men are so easy.

“There’s a key.” He scoffs and looks away. “And I’m Robin Hood.” You shrug, leaning back as much as you can into your chair despite the ropes tying you to it. “Believe what you want. I’m just saying, my brother has more checks than you can imagine.” Another truth to reel him in. He scratches an invisible itch on his knee, then gets up. He pulls something from his pocket, and you flinch, thinking it’s a gun. He laughs at your reaction. “Fucking brat.” He murmurs. Shepherd turns to the corner of the room and calls someone, talking in low tones.

When you examine the room, it sends a shot to your heart. You’re in a church. There’s blood red carpeting with paintings everywhere, but it’s not wellkept. There’s dust and no windows, the lighting frail. Perhaps recently abandoned?

Shepherd is back, knife in hand. He thrives on watching you flinch and thrash as he comes closer. You stop when he’s in your face, knife trailing down the length of your nose. “Where’s the key?” You answer without hesitation. “My father’s grave.” It’s the kind of sick shit Ghost would do, and Shepherd knows it. That’s when the knife slips through your ropes, freeing you. There’s a gun in his other hand pointed straight at your head. “You’ll take me to the key. And if it’s not there, so help me God, I’m blowing your brains out on your father’s grave.” You nod, short and shallow.

It’s only halfway up the dilapidated wooden stairs when you hear it. Pounding footsteps and a low British tone. Shepherd was stupid enough to trail behind you, and even stupider to stop at the noises as well. That’s when your years of self-defense classes with Johnny kick in, quite literally. 

You aim a kick to his head. He dodges, of course, but all that body mass has to go somewhere, and quite slowly. It knocks him off balance, a half-step down, giving you enough leverage to elbow the nose. One of the most sensitive places on a man, as Johnny told you. The door above you opens as Shepherd gets one more insult in as he goes down.

“Fuckin’ bastard.”

-

Yes i was thinking of the 21 savage song snitches and rats

Also sorry for comparing motherhood to torture i just really needed to justify reader peeing LOL

Oops shes a girlboss SORRYYYYYY

-

@heretoreadanddrinktea

@peachyxrosie

@joufrance

@galactict3a

@exactlyyoungchaos

@trulovekay

@alleycc

@abox-of-rocks

@orangehibiscus

@mismatchsposts

@nova-willow-541

@throwing-up-butterflies

@grossitsluca

@evans-dejong

@popcornlauncher

@earthcole

@backfromthedeadhehehe

@baduzzxy

@thegreyjoyed

@cutelibrariangf

@dearghostling

@mrsmalfoy1005

@all-by-myself98

@snburntandsad

@baklovers

@rmikaelson01

@leon-thot-kennedy

@the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned

@barcelonaaababe

@brokenandemptyhearts

@sleep101

@ontopofthefridge

@lilynotdilly

@teenagellamaangel

@harperdoodle

@ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii

@violetisheresworld

@lolwey

@polyfandom-blogs 

@burrowedinnature77

@sharkerino

@ashy-kit

@aikojwhpa

@thriving-n-jiving

@krispymagazinepizza-blog

@grayskel

@rpgsandstuff

@hisuccubus

@lumi-kalyke

@gimmeabreak1

[girl-lostconnection]

Hello!!!

I’ve been reading your works for a while and I’m hyperfixating adore you’re writings! So I saw this Red Bull ad during the Super Bowl and the penguin reminded me of Soap. Could I please humbly request hybridpenguin!Soap x reader fluff/comfort/romance/head canons anything really. I think you can bring this idea to life :3

It’s your lucky day cause I’ve been watching “Good luck Chuck” and there are some penguins that caught my eye. So I’ve been thinking about it whole day, googling penguins because I honestly don’t know much about them.

I chose Adelie Penguin for Soap because the blue-eyed stare this birds have is perfectly uncanny (I urge you to google them, they stare right in your soul) and also, they have very interesting courting rituals.

Also the wiki page for them said, I quote: “Despite their size, Adélie penguins are known for their bold and boisterous personality and will challenge other animals, including predators far larger than them.” And that reads like canonical Soap, because yeah, he would. Bold personality is right up this man’s alley.

But imagine hybrid Adelie Penguin!Soap and human Reader where he tries so fucking hard to court you properly but you don’t know jackshit about courting methods.

Male Adelie Penguins offer female penguin the perfect stone, polished to perfection, they spend quite some time looking for the best one and once found — they present it as a courting gift. It depends purely on the female penguin whether to accept courtship or not.

But if she does they can start mutual courting involving leaning closer to each other, grooming each other, familiarising with how each other sound — it helps them later to find the mate in the big crowd.

So Soap knows that maybe it would have been better to go with flower or something more conventional but he likes you, god, he really does. So there’s no harm in looking for a pretty stone for a pretty you, right?

Right?

Man spends his whole leave on Scotland’s shores, practically on all fours as he picks up decent stones, washes and polishes them at home before throw them all out because no. All wrong. Not prettty enough, not smooth enough, not shiny enough.

No mate would accept a shite like that, why would he even bring this ugly thing to your attention? What kind of potential mate would he be?

He returns to his searches even more determined. Soap will be damned if he comes back and he still doesn’t have a perfect stone for you.

And finally, luck smiles at him and dedication pays off — the perfect prettiest little stone he has ever seen. Smooth from cold waves, shiny in a way that makes you want it touch again and again, perfectly round. No ridges or bumps, no sharp edges or cracks.

Perfect stone for perfect you.

He returns feeling victorious and on top of the world and presents you with a stone without a second word. Quite literally he just extends his hand and there lies the stone. He doesn’t say anything, he’s just waiting for your reaction

And you have no fucking idea what’s going on, because the man is staring you in the eyes with his ungodly blue eyes and a little stone on his palm and you’re like…okay?:,) alright?🥹

So you take the stone to look closer (Soap tenses up like you have his heart in your hands, eyes hungry on you, still waiting for your reaction) and truth be told, it is a really nice stone. Shiny and smooth and perfectly polished. The kind of stone you’d want to fumble with all day, just rolling through the palm, massaging the center of your palm with it as you work.

It is a bloody lovely stone. You really like it.

But Johnny is not saying it, still watching you with the same hungry look, it’s just that now his grin is widening slowly because you look like you really like the stone. He did a good job, right? There’s no way you found his courting gift lacking.

And it is a perfect stone but the thing is…you don’t know if it’s a gift to you or if penguin part of Soap is simply showing off (crow!Simon does similar things when he brings you shiny stuff). So you don’t know if you are at liberty to keep the shiny pebble.

And Johnny is still completely fucking silent watching you with bated breath.

You carefully place the stone back in his palm, murmuring softly that it’s a very lovely stone, it looks incredible and you think it is absolutely gorgeous.

Soap stares at the stone for a few very long moments, his grin slowly fading because…don’t- don’t you like the stone, hen? You just said it’s gorgeous, but you are giving it back. Why are you giving it back?

He stares at the stone, absolutely crest-fallen in the face because he was so sure you’d like it. He was so proud of it and so excited to give it to you and of course there is no pressure for you to take it, after all it’s gift for you and you shouldn’t just settle for things.

But still.

What was wrong with it? Was there a crack he didn’t notice or is the texture of it not to your liking? Maybe you prefer sharper stones, maybe you like some roughness to them?

He looks back at you, feeling upset and anxious, stone still in hand while you try to gauge what the hell caused the reaction. Because Johnny is looking at you like you just kicked him in the stomach and you don’t know why.

“Ye didnae like it, hen?”, he swallows his pride and asks because obviously, you didn’t, what kind of fucking question is that. Mate just returned his gift back to him, means that gift is not up to standards.

You blink at him slowly, because what is he even talking about.

“I liked it. It’s really pretty. Where did you get it?”, you try to steer conversation away, since maybe there’s something you don’t seem to get about the stone.

“Why- ye didnae take it”, Soap’s voice is unusually soft, as he tilts his head to the side, stone clutched in his hand as some anxiety bleeds out of him.

Maybe he can still salvage it.

“Was it for me?”, the question leaves him now being the one who gives you a slow blink, before his gears kick in, realisations slowly creeping up his head. So that’s what was wrong.

“Aye”, stone returns to your palm, gets pressed into it by Johnny’s — warm and smooth — your heart skipping a beat. “If ye like it, Ah’d be happy if ye took it. But ainlie if ye like it, hen”

There’s a weight to this moment that you aren’t sure you capture fully but there’s something in Soap’s eyes that makes your fingers intertwine with his, head leaning closer to him. You are so close you can see the tiniest freckles on his cheeks.

Pretty.

“I really like it”, admitting it feels like you are ten again and sharing a silly secret with a boy you like, but Johnny looks at you like he couldn’t be happier.

His throat bobbing when you lean in closer, small shiver going down his spine because it’s really happening. His gift is accepted, his mate is accepting him — holding his hand, leaning into him, looking at him like that.

Best day of his life, truly.

So he presses a short tight kiss to your temple and nods at you like there is a shared understanding between you two now. Like you are partners in crime.

Soap practically jogs away, excitement evident in every step, shoulders spread out proudly. He fucking did it. He got the perfect stone for perfect you and you accepted it.

Now, the courting can really begin.

(It will take you an evening of google searches before you understand the meaning of the stone and why the hell, Soap is helping with your hair routine/skin care routine/nail polishing and even offers to “wash with the penguin, save the water, hen”)

[neovillains]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 4:28 PM : GOJO SATORU

"gojo satoru," you let out an exasperaged sigh at your old student’s lousy pick-up line, reminded of all those years back when you had the young boy in your japanese literature class. pale skin, exuberant blue eyes, and starkingly white locks tussled in the natural air. he'd usually have his legs cocked up on top of the desk, and you'd have to ask hundreds of times for him to remove them. he never did listen.

now, here he stands before you── fifteen years your junior and while his face has surely matured, you can still see that young boy inside him. it annoys you slightly. "i see you haven't changed much."

"how so?" he tilts his head, genuinely curious as he stands tall over your shorter stature. he leans more of his weight to his left side, staring into you as he holds his gaze on you. you were beautiful then as you're beautiful now, time surely taking a toll on you, but nonetheless. he finds you stunning.

you were such a kind teacher, and truthfully, he should've given you an easier time back then. however, he found the scrunch of your nose and the pout of your mouth adorable and loved to press your buttons. only when he noticed that your eyes would start to water from frustration would he ease up and let you go through the lesson. by the end of the class, however, he would throw some snarky remark and remind you that by the day after tomorrow, everything will fall right back into place. he'd be right at your ear again to nag you.

"you're still as stubborn as a mule," you cross your arms as you inhale a breath. reminiscing has only brought up past frustrations that you never managed to get off your chest. you don't like how his eyes twinkle, urging you to continue forth. "thinks the world goes how you want── still think that you can get whatever you want. still acting like a child."

"i wouldn’t say that..." he squints playfully, in that all too familiar tone that irks you.

"what would you call it then?" you challenge, cocking your head to the side.

"i just think── i don't think the world revolves around me," his voice calms, eyes still boring into yours, however. his eyes trail over your body, the corners of his lips curving upwards as his voice takes a tone of sultry. "i just know what i want, and i know that with just enough hard work that i can have it. didn't you use to call that ambition?"

you don't like the pace picking up within your chest. inhaling deeply, your jaw clenches as you take a step back. you keep your head up high. he was always smooth with his words── then and now. while he was always a nuisance in class, the essays he turned in always had you intrigued. he had a beautiful mind, but that's what you have always kept it at. and you're still trying to hold that one thing true. "within the right context── the right scenarios."

"well, i deem this the right one."

"sometimes, the universe means it when it says no," you press.

"and sometimes, the universe doesn't know what's right."

( subscriptions. ) @r0ckst4rjk @blcknebula @tojirin @clqxuds @dreamingoftomorroww @s-1-xx @lotuslovers @mutsu422 @twinky-wink @levkuna @des-todoroki @for-hearthand-home @nanasukii28 @paintingchoso @strawberriesrule @w2twoo @stargirl-mayaa @ratedrrrr @gojoswaterbottle @princess-vibes25 @ravenbc @inzanekillian @saik-k @sukunaspillow @serendippindots

[heretical-cogitations]

Help! My serf smells like the armoury and it's making me have heretical thoughts. Part 2

Word count: ~870

Part 1

A/N - I was really struggling trying to write this to work for any space marine but don't think I have the skill. Wanted to give writing in 2nd person a go as well. So it morphed into :

Titus x reader

Probs ooc but fuck it we ball.

Already have ideas for a final part....

As the door closed behind him you were left in shock, what just happened. 

Smoothing out your robe; you pick up the piece of armour you had neglected when you were distracted by your Lords ...presence.

Cleaning the filthy ceramite your mind is filled with thoughts of him; worried you had upset him but despite your concern you recall to how he looked in that tiny, flimsy loin cloth, you were certain you could easily rip it off with you tee— BY THE EMPEROR STOP.

Covering your face with your hands, guilt and shame set deep into every atom of your being.

How could you be so disrespectful, he had treated you so well, been so kind and in no uncertain terms made your life considerably better than it would've been otherwise.

You scold yourself again, annoyed at yourself for objectifying one of the emperor’s chosen, especially one so chivalrous and caring.

You looked at the spotless armour you had haphazardly lugged towards a corner of the room, proud of how the ceramite was now gleaming despite arguing with yourself the entire time, it now taking up as little of the communal space as it could.

The only piece missing is his helm currently placed near your feet, it had suffered quite a lot in this last deployment and needed more than a good scrub to get it back to its true glory. So, you have graciously taken it upon yourself to polish and repaint his helm.

You definitely weren’t going to use this as a peace offering to your lord or as a distraction from your inappropriate day dreaming.

Your gaze lands on the gauntlets, the sheer size making you blush, you need to get out of this room. Picking up his helm you scurry out, hoping the walk to his chamber would clear your mind or if that didn't the helm maintenance would. 

He couldn’t be in there any longer, it was too much, he needed to get to the bottom of this now. Titus, newly appointed captain of the 2nd company, was mortified at his lack of self-control; he is a mighty astartes and yet one smell has him splitting at the seams.

His mind wanders has he walks heavy footed through the ship’s corridors, before he finds himself at the armoury, making his way in, it’s quiet. The rooms usual smell almost completely absent, something usually so strong barely present now. He decides to search around to investigate what might produce such a smell, hoping to find why it made him react the way it did. His search is cut short as he hears the distinct armoured footfall of the chapter master.

“Titus.”  

Titus turns to face him saluting, “Chapter master.”  Calgar smiles and raises a brow “At ease lad, you look concerned is something bothering you?”  Titus breaks eye contact with his superior shifting on his feet appearing almost meek in front of him. “Well… I am concerned about my behaviour towards my serf earlier, it is hard to explain I apologise, but I felt overwhelming urges to touch them in less than appropriate ways.” He hangs his head low expecting to be reprimanded for acting in such a debased way, but such rebuke never comes instead Calgar stifles a laugh. His gauntlet clapped Titus on the shoulder knocking him forward with the force. “I'm sorry Titus, I shouldn't laugh, this issue is quite common amongst our battle brothers. As we astartes age we can rekindle some of our, let's say, baseline urges. Though you are on the younger side for this to occur.”  Calgar’s chuckle tapers out, smile still lingering on his face.

“I was looking for what I suspected to be the catalyst but have had no luck.” Huffing as he speaks, almost sulking. “What did you expect to find in the armoury, Titus?” Calgar said still smirking, almost as if he knew the answer. “The smell, that caused all of this” Titus admits.

“Ah, so you are unaware of the predicament here in the armoury…” Calgar leans closer to him, voice dropping to a whisper no baseline could hear. “What you smell when you don your battle plate is baseline arousal, Titus. Of those who know, we each have our own interpretation as to why armouring serfs react in the way they do when dressing us, but one thing we all agree is that this is kept close to our chest and only shared on a need-to-know basis.” Calgar leans back smiling again teasing Titus. “And this seems to be one of those situations”. Calgar turns towards the door “I hope will keep this secret as well as the rest of us.” He says chuckling as he walks out of the room. Titus is left blushed red and gaping at the grey-haired space marine as he takes his leave.

Once the shock of the revelation settled, he couldn't contain the smile that split his features, his little serf finds him attractive.

His little serf returns his feelings.

No matter how much he tries to temper it he cannot control his giddiness. The other implications of the situation flying far above his head in this moment.

He must return to them now.

[lady-lostmind]

SECOND CHANCE

Written for @steddiebingo Kissing Booth Prompt: Date

This is part two of the Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Blind Date

Rating: T | WC: 1628 

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!

Eddie looks in the mirror, fluffing his hair up and smoothing out his shirt. He’s nervous. After the disastrous first date, he feels like he has a lot to make up for. Robin was right. Steve is amazing.

Eddie has no idea why Steve agreed to go on another date with his dumbass, but he’s going to make the most of it while he can. He’s double checked the restaurant at least ten times now and he’s ready two hours early, but he’s not going to be late this time. He won’t leave Steve waiting around wondering if he’s going to show up ever again. 

He grabs his cologne off the counter, using a few spritz on his wrists and rubbing them on his neck. He goes to set it down and pauses, impulsively spraying over the crotch of his pants, too. Can’t blame a guy for being hopeful. He sets the cologne down and hears his phone buzz in the next room. He hurries over to it, stomach fluttering when he sees it’s a message for Steve.

Steve (5:02pm): Can’t wait to see you later! 😊

Eddie grins, typing out his response embarrassingly fast. 

Eddie (5:02pm): Me either, sweetheart. Been looking forward to it all week.

Steve (5:03pm): Me too!

Eddie’s smile pulls wide on his face and he shakes his head wondering how he got so lucky. He’s going to owe Robin big time if this works out. 

–

Eddie pulls up outside the restaurant and grabs the rose he stopped to buy on his way over. He feels a little silly. He hasn’t ever really tried to woo anyone before. But he really likes Steve. He’s funny, and sweet, and actually listens when Eddie talks, asks questions like whatever he’s talking about is fascinating. And he’s gorgeous. Way out of Eddie’s league. Something Robin has been happy to remind him of after his fuck up last time. 

Eddie pulls his phone out and glances at the time. He’s still a little early but he couldn’t stand waiting any longer to leave. Plus–

He scrolls up in his and Steve’s conversation over the last week until he finds the message about their date. 

Benny’s Burgers. 

Eddie leans forward and looks at the sign for the restaurant. 

Benny’s Burgers. 

He lets out a sigh of relief. He’s at the right place this time, at least. He heads in and asks for a table for two, following the cheery waitress to a booth in the corner. He sits on the side facing the door so he can spot Steve when he comes in and fights the urge to pick apart the rose so his nervous hands have something to do. He puts the rose across the table in front of Steve’s seat and fidgets with his rings instead. 

Eddie knows it’s only been about five minutes since he sat down, but he’s getting really antsy. What if he’s built this thing all up in his head? All the flirtiness and interest Steve has shown? What if he really was upset at Eddie for making him wait so long last week and just wants to get back at him? Make him sit here all night waiting for his dream man to show up? What if–

Steve walks in the front door with a huge smile, eyes finding Eddie immediately and walking over. Eddie slides out of the booth and snatches the rose back off the table, holding it out with a flourish when Steve gets closer. 

“For you.”

Steve’s eyes sparkle and his face blooms a pretty pink as he takes the rose and mutters a shy thank you before taking his seat at the table. 

Eddie slides back in his side of the booth with a smile. “I’m glad we could do this again so soon.”

Steve nods. “Me too. And glad you found the place okay.”

Eddie sighs and groans. “I’m never going to live that down am I?” 

Steve huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “Not a chance, sorry.”

Eddie shrugs. “Guess I deserve it.” He reaches over and grabs the menus, handing one to Steve. But Steve just sets it down in front of him and smiles as Eddie looks over the options. 

Eddie eyes him curiously. “Already know what you’re getting?”

Steve nods. “Robin and I come here like…twice a week, usually.” 

Eddie’s jaw drops open in a gasp. “I didn’t want to take you somewhere you always go. We could have picked something else.”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t care where we go. Just wanted to see you.”

Eddie hums, trying to hide his blush behind his menu and focus on picking a burger. 

The waitress comes over to take their order and smiles brightly at Steve. “Hey you!” She nudges his shoulder, already scribbling on her little pad of paper.  “Want your usual?” 

Steve nods sweetly, handing her his menu. 

The waitress turns to Eddie. “And what can I get for you, sweetie?”

Eddie grins at her and glances back at his menu. “I’ll just do the cheeseburger with fries and a strawberry milkshake.” 

She writes his order down with a smile and takes his menu, heading back to the kitchen.

Eddie turns back to Steve with a curious look. “What’s your usual?”

Steve just grins. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head. “Man of mystery, huh?”

Steve shrugs and leans back against the booth, twirling the rose in his hand. “Have to keep you on your toes.”

They make small talk while they wait for their food to come out and Eddie can’t help but think how easy this is. How comfortable he feels around Steve already. Like they’ve known each other for years instead of days. 

The waitress comes back with a tray of food and Eddie stares in impressed horror as she unloads a ridiculous combination of food in front of Steve. 

A double order of fries, a vanilla milkshake, a slice of chocolate pie, and a side of pickles. 

“That’s your usual?” Eddie asks with raised brows.

Steve huffs out a laugh, grabbing a fry and dunking it in his milkshake, ignoring Eddie’s look of disgust. 

Eddie shakes his head. “Please tell me you didn’t just do that.”

Steve chews slowly and shrugs. “What? Salty and sweet. Perfect combo.”

Eddie hums and nods along. “And uh–” He points to the pie and pickles. 

Steve grins, picking up his fork and stabbing a fry, and then swiping it through the pie. “I like options.” 

Eddie takes a bite of his burger, eyeing the little bowl of pickles. “I’m afraid to ask.”

Steve chuckles and grabs a pickle. “I just really like pickles.” 

Eddie huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “I think I might have finally figured out how you’re still single.”

Steve’s mouth drops open in mock offense and he tosses a fry at Eddie. “It’s not that bad!” He holds his milkshake out to Eddie and nods toward it. “Come on. Just try it.”

Eddie groans and his face scrunches. Steve shakes his cup a little, staring at him with bright eyes. 

Eddie sighs and points at Steve. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” 

Steve flashes him a wide grin as he watches Eddie dip a fry in and take a hesitant bite. He chews slowly, surprised it’s not as bad as he thought it would be. But he squints at Steve, drawing it out before he finally relents with a shrug. “Okay. It’s pretty good.” 

Steve nods, dunking another fry in and popping it in his mouth. “See. You should never doubt me.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh and holds his hands up in front of him. “I’ll never make that mistake again.” 

–

The rest of the date goes smoothly and before Eddie even realizes it the waitress is coming over with the check and gently nudging them to leave so she can clean up for the night. Eddie pays, and reluctantly follows Steve out the door. He walks him to his car, and leans in close when Steve stops to lean on the driver’s side door, staring at Eddie with wide eyes.

“I had a good time tonight, sweetheart.” 

Steve blushes and nods. “Me too.” 

Eddie’s eyes flick down to Steve’s lips and back up, catching the way he tracked the movement. Eddie reaches up to cup Steve’s jaw, lingering for a moment to stare in his eyes before closing the distance and pressing their lips together. 

Steve hums, his hand coming up to fist in Eddie’s jacket before pulling back with a happy sigh, eyes trailing over Eddie hungrily. “Text me?”

Eddie grins and nods. “Absolutely.” 

Steve leans back in for another peck and then climbs into his car, giving Eddie a dorky little finger wave before pulling away. 

Eddie shakes his head and gives him the same wave back before heading back to his van. He flops down in his seat with a heavy sigh, his stomach fluttering with excitement. He digs his phone out and types out a message to Robin.

Eddie (11:35pm): I owe you. Forever.

Buckley (11:36pm): You’re welcome. Don’t fuck it up.

Eddie rolls his eyes before switching over to his texts with Steve. 

Eddie (11:37pm): Hope I can see you again soon, sweetheart.

He puts his phone back in his pocket and turns the van on with a huge smile. 

–

Eddie is just climbing into bed when his phone goes off again. His heart leaps into his throat, hoping it’s–

Steve (12:15apm): How does lunch tomorrow sound?

Eddie chuckles, a cocky grin pulling at his mouth. 

Eddie (12:15am): Name the time and place. I’ll be there.

Steve (12:16am): How about Alonzo’s? 😝

[walkingnearfoxes]

The Space Between the Lines (Homelander x Reader) - Chapter 2

2.5k words. Teacher Reader. Homelander in an undefined part of the canon timeline. 18+ due to the devil’s lettuce and “that’s what she said” humor.

There are a dozen teachers who would kill for this job. You’re just not sure that you’re one of them. 

"His son?"

Vought had been very particular about who you could talk to about your job. If you told anyone outside your immediate family about who you were teaching, you could consider your career with Vought - and your career outside of Vought - terminated. Then, if there was even the slightest chance that anyone in your immediate family would talk to the media about it, you were extra terminated. Luckily, you did not have the slightest urge to speak to any living family member about this. They would have questions, worry, and manipulate; it wasn't worth the headache. As far as anyone you were blood-related to knew, you were tutoring vulnerable students Vought had adopted as their own. At first, you didn't think you would have a problem keeping everything a secret - but then you officially met the Homelander.

Addie, your roommate, stares at you from the living room windows. She is cross-legged on a purple bean bag, a bong delicately perched in her hands. She barely said a word over the last hour as you explained the details of your first school day.

You nod from where you're leaning against the kitchen counter. "Ryan Butcher."

"His last name is Butcher?" Addie sputters. "Is that his full name? Homelander Butcher?"

"...I don't think he has a last name."

Addie shakes her head as she lights the bong. "Dude, you're gonna die."

You groan and press your forehead to the kitchen counter. A mug of tea sits delicately between your hands, warming you in this frigid apartment. “Not helping.”

“Is there still time to quit?” She asks, and you hear her blow out a puff. “Or will he pop your head off like a grape if you do?”

You lift your head to answer her. “He wasn’t…that bad.”

Addie’s dry gaze meets yours across the room. Over the years, many have mistaken the two of you for siblings - even twins - based on your physical similarities. It didn’t help that many of your expressions morphed into one another’s over the years. She sighs your name as she places the bong down. “You’re not drinking the Kool-Aid, are you? The guy’s nuts.”

You drum your fingers anxiously against your mug. Until recently, the Homelander had a squeaky-clean reputation. His breakup with Queen Maeve - Addie’s favorite since childhood - had begun your friend’s suspicion that there was a darker side to America’s hero. You kept the benefit of the doubt until Stormfront and the public fallout from that fiasco. As more and more of your distant relatives on Facebook cheered for the Homelander, the more you grew weary of the strongest man on the planet. 

“I’m…trying to remain optimistic here,” You murmur, though you aren’t sure if you believe your words. “Anyone who does this much to educate their son has a good bone in him somewhere.”

“Thinking about his bones, huh?”

You pick up the tissue box on the counter and toss it at her head. She dodges it with ease and laughs, standing up with her bong. “I knew it. You deviant.”

���Open the windows in here. It smells like shit,” You toss back, laughing with her as you head for your room. “Good night.”

You hear her say goodbye before you shut the door to your room. After a quick change into pajamas, you curl in bed with the full intent of reading a book - but instead, you find yourself wasting the better part of an hour reading articles about the Homelander on your phone. 

It’s information whiplash. One website will lead you through a sea of gratitude for the man, detailing heroic saves across the decades. The next is a rabbit hole of conspiracy theories. Did he do something to Flight 37? Was he responsible for the massive turnover in the Seven lately? Did he follow the Stormfront’s abhorrent rhetoric?

By the end of your search, your stomach hurts. You switch to a guided relaxation video - surely this random deep voice on the Internet will calm you down - and flip over on your side to try to sleep. You’re facing the window, and your eyes naturally drift towards the Brooklyn skyline.

Odd.

You lift your head slightly. It looked as if there was a spark of light on the roof across from your building. Your vision was weakening after years of reading screens, but you could have sworn you saw a small pair of red spheres.

Red eyes.

Your stomach lurches again. You flip to face the wall and scoff a laugh at your reaction. As a child, you were always seeing things in the dark. You drove your family crazy with the number of nightmares you concocted out of dark closets and shadowy corners. You tighten the blankets and shake your head. “Can’t go crazy yet…we have a job to do tomorrow.”

The slow, deep voice of the mindfulness video eventually drifts you off to sleep. You have forgotten about the red eyes by the time you wake up.

~-~

Vought Tower is a nightmare of a commute for you. It involves a 20-minute walk, a subway ride, a bus, and yet another 20-minute walk. You and Addie thought about getting a car more than once, but your combined salaries sometimes made it difficult for you even to afford the apartment. Tagging on a vehicle to that wasn’t in the cards - though it might be if you survived this job.

You smile politely at the guards in the front lobby, scanning your badge so no one questions your walk to the elevators. As you begin the slow ascent to the penthouse, alone in the privacy of the mirrored walls, you review the “checklist” Vought provided you. You are wearing a modest outfit. No heels. You aren’t wearing any perfume. The shampoos and conditioners you used were not scented. Your soap had a light vanilla fragrance, and you had only used it briefly before quickly switching to the unscented body wash you purchased a few days prior. 

If you had learned anything from this job already, the Homelander was very particular. 

The nerves don’t find you until the elevator opens and you approach the penthouse door. The hallway was barren, a prolonged detachment from reality. Could you really do this? Teach the son of a man who could rip a building in half? Every part of your body is tense except for the shoulder he had corrected. There, the muscle was relaxed. Soft. It felt good; you couldn’t remember the last time your shoulder felt that good. But was that a blessing in disguise?

You are so lost in thought that you don’t realize you’re standing in front of the door until it opens.

To your shock, it wasn’t the Homelander’s piercing gaze that greeted you. Instead, it was the ocean-blue eyes of a child. You would guess he’s around ten, the same age as the student group you had last taught. He’s dressed in jeans and a flannel, and his hair is a light brown. All in all, he looks like an ordinary kid. It brings you more comfort than you anticipated. 

Brought back to the present moment, you smile. “Ryan, I presume?”

He smiles shyly and nods. “Yeah, that’s me. Are you my new social studies teacher?”

You nod with a widening smile. “That’s me.”

“It’s nice to meet you…uh, what should I call you?” He asks with a little shuffle of his feet.

You give him your preferred name. No need for formalities here; you have enough of those on the rest of your contract.

“So, give me the honest truth,” You say, biting back a coo at how his eyebrows fuddle in intrigue. “Do you like social studies? Or do I have to persuade you to like social studies?”

His face brightens, and you can’t help but note how different he looks from his father. “I love history,” Ryan admits in a soft voice. “My…um. I used to read about it all the time.”

Something made him hesitant to tell the whole story there, but you store that away. You adjust your bag hanging on your tight shoulder. “Well, the hard part’s over, then. Now we just get to be history nerds together.”

To your relief, that gives you a wider smile from the kid. “My dad says we’re gonna work at the kitchen table.”

He waits for you to walk in and then guides you to the dining room, a navy-paneled wall off to the side of the den. All the books you brought yesterday are there, along with a laptop for you and a notebook with about a dozen pencils and pens for Ryan. He certainly doesn’t want for supplies. You place your bag down and then sit at the laptop chair. You notice how your chair is to the right while Ryan sits at the head of the table. You don’t mind, but it’s an interesting setup.

“I just realized how rude I am,” You say, and Ryan looks up at you with too much concern. “I didn’t ask you what I should call you.”

He blinks. “What do you mean?”

You give him a playful glance. “Should I call you Ryan? Mr. Ryan? Super Ryan?”

His confusion melts into a sheepish laugh. “Oh. Um, just Ryan is fine. Thank you.”

“Oh, I don’t know! I think Super Ryan has a nice ring to it.”

You have a sharp intake of breath, but no muscles tightening this time. You knew he would be here. Still, the Homelander sauntering into the room is surreal. He’s still in full uniform - does he ever take it off? - and he’s beaming with pride at the sight before him. 

Ryan turns to look at him, and you notice a tweak to his smile. It’s hard to tell if it’s a son being embarrassed by his father or a boy being scared of the Homelander. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, kiddo,” The Homelander ruffles Ryan’s hair, and then he looks at you. His lip twitches, and there’s a long pause before he looks back at Ryan. “Manners, buddy. Did you ask if our guest wants something to drink?”

You sit up straighter. “Oh, I’m totally fine-”

“Grab a tea for her and whatever you want for you,” He taps Ryan’s shoulder twice, smiling down at him. The affection does seem genuine.

Ryan nods and shuffles out of his seat, giving you a shy glance before exiting the room. You watch him leave, and when you turn to look at Homelander, you see that he’s already looking at you. 

“Anything else you need?” He asks. He’s speaking in that same pleasant voice you heard yesterday, as if he’s ready for an interview at any moment. 

You manage a smile. “No, this setup is perfect. Thank you.”

His grin shows teeth. “Oh, my pleasure. One quick note though…” 

He takes Ryan’s seat and folds his hands in front of him. His arms are extended onto the table, mere inches away from where your hands were resting. You briefly stare at his red gloves before slowly looking back at his face. There is a new edge to his smile that nearly makes you wilt.

“While you’re teaching my son, I’d prefer it if you weren’t near any…” He waves a hand in the air as he searches for the right word. “...mind-altering substances.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he’s talking about, but then you remember. Addie’s bong. He can still smell it. You suddenly feel as if your skin is on fire. “Oh my God. Sir, I am so sorry. I didn’t use any. My roommate-”

“I told you to call me Homelander,” He reminds you slowly. “I know you didn’t partake, but you shouldn’t be near them. Can’t risk a contact high, can we?”

You stutter over your words momentarily, giving him time to rest a hand on your shoulder - the same one he fixed. He chuckles and gives you a pat that’s just a little too hard. “But Ryan likes you, so I’m gonna...remain optimistic here. One more chance.”

He stands up and circles behind your chair, leaning down to speak into your ear. “Love the vanilla, by the way…subtle, but just perfect.”

Your hands are clenched into tight fists as he swaggers to the end of the table and takes a seat. You know he’s looking at you, but you’re looking at the table. You only look up when you hear Ryan’s footsteps. He sets a plain black mug with steaming tea in front of you and sits down with water for himself. He looks at his father, and when he looks back at you, there’s a worried crinkle on his brow. “Is everything okay?”

“Just lost in thought,” You reassure him with the same warm smile you gave him earlier. “Did you know the British ruled the colonies for over 150 years, but the Revolution lasted only 7?”

Ryan’s eyes widen in interest. “150 years?”

You nod. “Yup. Shows you how tired the colonists probably were by then, huh?”

The Homelander huffs a quiet laugh, and you glance at him from the corner of your eye. He’s sitting back in the chair, his hands settled on his lap. There is nothing in front of him. He’s just…watching.

You have been a teacher for years, you remind yourself. You have dealt with crazy parents before. None of them could fly, but that didn’t matter. You were a teacher, you had a student, and you had a job to do.

“Alright, Ryan,” You sit forward and angle your laptop towards Ryan so Homelander’s gaze is just out of your view. “How much do you know about taxes?”

[akicine]

Helloo!

Not sure if you have requests open, if not pls lmk.

I was wondering if I could request platonic Blade with a reader who has been with him since their childhood because reader lost their parents early (reader is around teen years) but got separated from him in a disaster and gets reunited with them many years later.

An: 👍 Love the concept! And sorry for it taking too long my motivation has been down the drain for the past month because work is just not working out for me.

THIS IS PLATONIC

Will we ever meet again?(Platonic Blade x Reader)

It’s been so long since he’s since your face , even if it’s been years , even with the Mara clawing at the edges of his sanity and tearing the fragile frames of memories in his head , he could never forget you.

Not when he raised you when nobody else would .

Not when he held your hand when you got lost or uncomfortable, or when he let you squirm underneath the covers of his bed whenever you got nightmares.

When he had to take you to the battle field , he would rip off a piece of his coat and cover it over your eyes , while also seating you somewhere relatively far away from the battle , he wouldn’t bother with others , but at the time , the urge to keep you safe and secure was overwhelming.

When he lost you, he felt lost, just like in the beginning, when he was a mere shell with no soul inside . Taking care of you had brought out something inside of him that made him feel alive.

He sat in his quarters , staring at the wall, the Mara eating away at his mind at a quicker pace, causing Kafka to use her sprit whisper much more often.

He eventually got over you, but he still had that hole in his heart, weeping as he lost part of his soul.

So now , when he finally sees you again, it feels like a miracle, you’ve aged , but he hasn’t. He doesn’t know whether or not you remember him, but even if your appearances changed drastically, he would always recognize you.

He did raise you after all.

He sees the light in your eyes are gone now , and so was the innocence you used to have . It’s now replaced with a more natural and aged look , one that tells a story of sorrow and harshness.

Before he can slowly sink into his memories , your voice brings him out of it .

“ I- … Hello , blade …” Your timid voice and the new title you call him makes him surprised , he expected you to be a little bit for familiar with him , but he supposes it’s because it’s been years.

He stares at you for a little while , before his raspy voice catches your attention.

“Hello….. How… have you been doing?”

Even though his face remained indifferent, there was a tinge of uncertainty in his tone , almost as if he feared making you uncomfortable.

You’ll never forget how you kicked and screamed when he first picked you up.

A laugh was coaxed out of your throat because of that thought, making him raise an eyebrow .

You quickly wave your hands in front of you, thinking that it could disperse the confusion, “I’m not laughing at you! I promise really!”

He sighs , before raising a hand out of instinct and gently patting your head , making you freeze.

Both of you freeze actually.

One of out shock , the other out of fear of hurting you.

You look up at him before holding , gently place your hand over his and smiling at him.

“ Do you think… I can still call you my father?”

A small, rarely seen smile appears on his face, one that is familiar to you . His hand gently resumes running through your hair, the familiar sensation making you feel more comfortable around him.

With a gentle voice you remember, he says

” Yes, of course you can.”

[soukokuforthesoul]

dazai and atsushi working late because they got caught up in something earlier, and dazai slumps back on his chair, tired. atsushi turns to him, resisting the urge to laugh because he completely understands.

"we're almost done, dazai-san. we can leave in a bit," he assures him, and dazai grumbles under his breath but goes back to his laptop.

amidst the typing, and the sound of something being printed in the room over, a thought occurs to atsushi, and he looks up, towards the man beside him. he wonders where he would be if dazai hadn't picked him up that day. after a moment, dazai notices his gaze and, resting his chin in his palm, smiles inquiringly at him.

"something wrong, atsushi-kun?" he asks, likely hoping it'll get him out of work. (even if, looking at his screen, he only really has a little left to do).

"ah, no," atsushi says quickly, embarrassed. "i just wanted— well, i was thinking. uhm, i wanted to say thank you, dazai-san."

"eh?" dazai arches and eyebrow, leaning back on his chair to study atsushi. "for what? i'm not going to do your work."

"no, no—i already finished!" atsushi shakes his head, his smile shy as he angles his expression from dazai's point of view. "i meant—thank you for everything you've done for me. for taking me in. and for, well, just... letting me live. i realize i never properly thanked you. i hope i can repay you one day."

it's almost like he walked into this—atsushi realizes—because the perfect opportunity stands for dazai to make him finish work up for him. but instead of taking the unintended bait, dazai pauses. he stares at atsushi long enough for him to turn back around, catching dazai's gaze.

dazai's face is unreadable, and though that's not unusual, it feels different. as if even dazai can't interpret his own emotions. but then dazai smiles—a wide smile, that holds something bittersweet in it—and he dips his head down, chuckling. "atsushi-kun, i believe you're too kind for this world," he murmurs, and then adds, "or, for me, really. i should thank you for existing."

before atsushi can ask what that means, dazai returns to his laptop, satisfied to see the files have been uploaded, then closes it and stands, stretching. he offers a hand to atsushi, who takes it, pushing his chair in and closing his own laptop.

"we're done here, right? let's go get something to eat before heading home," dazai offers. he grins, pulling out a wad of money from his coat pocket. "kunikida-kun's treat."

atsushi eyes him, although he's smiling too—he can't help it. "did you steal that?"

dazai winks, and leads atsushi out the building, turning off the light behind them. the money is spent, but atsushi insists they keep some food for kunikida, to which dazai reluctantly gives in to. the night is lost in conversation, but dazai is lost in his mind—stuck on the way atsushi's gratitude had been so genuine. atsushi keeps him busy, his smiles and laughter chasing away dazai's doubts that he doesn't deserve it.

thank you ... for letting me live

how strange of an appreciation, because dazai has always found freedom in death. and even stranger that dazai wonders if that is how atsushi makes him feel. atsushi lets him live.

[saturnzskyzz]

Ler In-ho with Gi-hun tkl headcannon's!!!

Everyone clap and cheer for my first headcannon request!!! Clap it up 👏👏👏 thank you @ryoko-loves-roses for this request! I don't make that much headcannon's, so bare with me 😭🙏 I also didn't say this on text, but In-ho tickling Gi-hun to lift up his spirits is such a good headcannon!! Might have to take that into consideration and wip up a fic after blasting through my fic requests ✍️ (I'm sorry for how long this is 😭 I might've gotten carried away)

ANYWAY!

I feel that since Jung-bae and Gi-hun have reunited in the games, Jung-bae has a sudden urge to pick on him for that, and how he does it is through poking his sides or stomach, causing Gi-hun to break into a small, nervous smile! And since they have their little group with In-ho and everyone else, he notices this quite often, and so that's when he takes it upon himself to use that fact for himself!

How I think he'd tickle Gi-hun as a way to lift his spirits up, I feel that he would go light, and try to make it seem like they're friends just having a good laugh because he's having to make amends with these people in order to fit in, so he.. OH so totallyyy shows him just a tiny bit of mercy because he's acting with those who are in debt.. Totally not because he's also enjoying the fun banter... Totally.. Only a tiny bit though.

-he goes light and is cautious, but also, he still have that evil side with him.

-he'll literally forget half way through tickling Gi-hun as to why he's even tickling him in the first place, causing Gi-hun to become breathy with his giggles. (it's the contagious and interesting sight he sees from Gi-hun just losing his Michivious and dark persona just by a few pokes to the sides)

-he'll even laugh with Gi-hun because that's how contagious his giggles are!

-he'd give teases here and there, and would sometimes tease too much, resulting in Gi-hun laughing his fucking head off because he can't handle the teases while being tickled, so In-ho is now dealing with a flustered mess of a puddle infront of him. (He teases him about that too)

-I think his tease would go along the lines of;

"I'm glad I've caught Jung-bae poking you, this is just perfect!"

"You're seriously this sensitive? For you to be a previous winner, I'm impressed!"

"Can you hear yourself right now? I'd mistake you as a little girl!"

"Awe, are we going all flustered now? That's cute."

OH MY GOD Gi-hun would flip on a table and break it by the harsh landing cause WHAT?!

Since he's wanting to lift his spirits, I don't think he'd use his free hand to pin Gi-hun's hands.. I KNOW IT'S A CURVE BALL BUT TRUST ME!

He'd leave them free to roam and thrash cause let's be honest.. Gi-hun isn't doing shit 😭 (touch-starved much??)

And he'd also tease him about that too!

"You got all the hands in the world, and yet you don't even stop me? It's like you wanted this to happen."

When he's done, gi-hun is such a flustered mess that he just stays there for a few minutes, resulting in In-ho giving his left over milk that he would have to give him to calm him down!

The aftercare like that is on instinct because of past tickle fights with Jun-ho I'M SORRY-

I hope these were good! I wanted to focus on the idea you had for Gi-hun having his spirits lifted cause aaaah!!! That's a good idea!

[poppitron360]

I love the idea of Valgrace/Jasico where it’s just Jason, being raised by wolves, immediately clocking Leo/Nico as “the runt of the litter” and Mamma Wolf deciding that they therefore MUST be protected.

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. bragging about your oh-so-perfect boyfriend to your friends certainly has its (welcomed) consequences. . .

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff & smut. p in v -> unprotected. missionary. sweet but also nasty and condescending. creampie. body worship. size difference / - kink. nicknames ‘(little) princess, baby’. name calling once. not proof read bcs im sleepy. wc. 2k+

“right! he’s so thoughtful,” you sigh dreamily as you chat with your friends over the phone. you’re laying on satoru’s bed, kicking your feet up while you remove your make-up. of course, you had to call your girls to tell them all about the little date you just had with your boyfriend.

satoru’s in the shower, so you’re taking the time to relive the experience.

“here she goes again y’all,” one of your friends sighs dramatically, to which the others follow with giggles of their own. they know that you can go on and on about your partner. they’ve heard all of it before.

you grin and roll your eyes, rubbing the cleansing wipe over your lips, removing the light pink gloss you had on. you’re all giddy as you recall what satoru has done and given to you this evening. you’ve been pampered—spoiled rotten.

“hey! don’t blame me,” you retort with a chuckle. your friends laugh and urge you to go on since they’re only joking. the stories you tell are always either adorable or heartwarming, and thus they’re happy to listen. plus, debriefing you on your love life is free entertainment.

it’s not unusual for you to stray from the main story. you ramble about the restaurant you’ve visited, the pretty green scenery you’ve walked past, the museum you’ve visited, the way satoru paid for everything and how he made sure to pick activities you’re interested.

you get an occasional ‘aww’ or ‘cuteee’ when you mention your boyfriend’s loving gestures. from the enormous bouquet of flowers he’s gotten you, to the fact that he carried you back into his apartment the moment you told him your feet were hurting.

walking in heels wasn’t the smart move you thought it was, though luckily you had a thoughtful lover by your side.

“he’s just so handsome ‘n stuff. god—“ you squeal, not even bothering to dampen your excitement. you hide your face behind your hands for a split second, gaining a few fan girling squeaks from your friends as well. they’re happy that you’re being treated like deserved.

you don’t hear the door of the bedroom open since you’re too busy gushing about satoru. you’re focused on your small pocket mirror, careful not to forget a spot on your face. you notice that your friends have gone quiet, but you don’t question it.

“his gentle personality is honestly such a turn-on,” you mumble as you rub off the concealer from under your eyes, “and his subtle yet possessive touches? phew, don’t get me started.” you continue to babble on about how hot satoru is when he gets mad, unable to point out a flaw.

you’re about to comment on your friends’ sudden silence when a hand lands on your shoulder. you freeze and finally make eye contact with no one other than satoru—hovering over you from behind. he’s smiling down at you and mumbles a quick, ‘hey, baby’, before kissing your forehead.

you try to explain the situation, yet have no idea where to start. you can hear a friend of yours snickering and another faintly whisper an ‘oh, girl. . .’

before you have the ability to get another word out, satoru cuts you off, waving at your front camera for a second. his smile reaches his eyes and his dimples show;

“hey ladies, mind if i steal my girl from you?” satoru asks as he puts an arm around you. he places his cheek against yours, awaiting an answer. your friends are left speechless at the sudden turn of events.

the white-haired man appears extremely good on screen. he’s basically blessing them with his handsome looks. the towel hanging over his head indicates that he just came out of a fresh shower. there’s a visible vein running down his neck—nearly bulging out of the skin—as if satoru’s holding himself back.

once your friends snap out of their daze, they greet satoru and nod, exchanging quick ‘see you later’s. your boyfriend thanks them with another one of his charming smiles. he waves at the camera again, “bye bye, thank you.”

the call ends and the bedroom falls quiet. you stare at your screen which fades to black, completely dumbfounded. you quickly sit up—your mind a chaotic mess full of thoughts.

“satoru, i uhm, i didn’t know—“ you attempt to form an explanation, though you realise that it’s likely futile. satoru’s probably heard every word that left your mouth. you look up at him, your voice a quiet whisper, “how much did you hear?”

the sorcerer grins. he’s so enamored with you; everything you do is adorable. he grabs your hands and holds then into his larger ones—thumbs gently rubbing your skin. he pulls them up to his lips so he could place chaste kisses on your knuckles.

“everything, princess,” satoru hums, rotating your hands to place kisses on the inside of your wrists. there’s a subtle blush on his cheeks that even reaches his ears. no matter how calm and collected he may seem, he’s still but a complete sucker to your love, “talking about me to your little friends, hm? how cute.”

a shiver runs down your spine. you feel your tummy turn as you’re slowly guided onto your back. multiple kisses cover your body—from head to toe—like a canvas getting painted on. satoru’s taking his sweet time, admiring the art that’s your physique.

every piece of clothing that comes off is a step closer to the grande revelation. the masterpiece that is you. moving from one empty spot - filling it with his kisses - to another. sighs of content leave your lover’s mouth with each reveal, as if he hasn’t seen the sight of your naked body before.

“does this turn you on, baby? my ‘subtle touches’?” satoru mutters against your breasts, remembering your earlier words. his blue eyes stare up at you through his white lashes. not wearing his blindfold may overstimulate him due to his abilities, but he’ll risk anything if it’s to admire you the best he can.

he chuckles when you nod. your boyfriend kisses your hard nipples—taking his time to swirl his tongue around both of them just to feel your back arch off the mattress. your hands holding onto him for life is extremely thrilling. “it turns me on too,” satoru confesses quietly. his slender fingers reach the hem of your panties, “you turn me on so fuckin’ much.”

your breath hitches when your underwear gets tossed somewhere across the room. you’re dripping, obviously. there’s no way you couldn’t get turned on by the way satoru’s been worshipping your entire being.

you can also see the effect you have on him; he’s sweating. the vein on his neck seems to grow more visible when your cunt is revealed to him.

“there she is,” satoru grins in satisfaction. he seems to be in a daze for a second before he regains composure. he looks at you for a quick check, needing to know if he has your consent before he continues. the moment you nod, your lover separates your legs.

you sniff and try to hide your embarrassed expression behind a hand. satoru’s quick to pin your wrist above your head so you wouldn’t have the chance to do any of that. “keep your eyes on me, yeah?” he leans in to place a swift kiss on your lips.

“mhm,” you nod after returning the peck. the white-haired man utters a small ‘thank you’ and undoes his sweatpants with his free hand. he fumbles with his boxers—unable to keep himself from trembling in pleasure from the view alone.

your small body underneath him is a sight he’ll never get tired of. that face of yours morphing into one of pleasure whenever you’re intimate is one of his favorite things to witness. thus why the missionary is his go to position.

“c’mon,” satoru kisses your cheek as he manages to pull his erected cock out of his underwear. it’s standing tall, the tip pointing right at the place it wants to be buried at—your wet, warm and inviting pussy, “you were so loud when talking with y’r friends ‘n now you’ve gone quiet on me.”

satoru pouts, “it’s not fair. i wanna hear my princess too.”

you almost choke on your spit because of how whiny yet demanding satoru sounds. you feel his fingers intertwine with yours, firmly holding your hand down above your head. you’re still flustered by the entire situation. you open your mouth as tears gather in your eyes, “i’m sorry, i’m jus— ngh!”

you can’t even get your words out. the lewd feeling of satoru rubbing his tip between your folds completely catches you off guard. he grins, as if he planned on doing that the moment you tried to speak. he’s such a tease.

“shh, shh, i know,” satoru coos mockingly, acting like he’s not doing it on purpose. you can’t blame the man; he’s been rock hard ever since he heard you praise him so openly through the phone. your lovely voice speaking so highly of him was driving him nuts.

you’re so appreciative for all he’s doing and it makes the sorcerer want to spoil you even more. to give you the love and affection you deserve because of how precious you are—even if you don’t realise it.

he wants to give you more. more, more, more.

without thinking, satoru pushes his cock right through your tight cunt. he shudders at the sight of your poor, small pussy struggling to take his fat dick. he can’t hurt you, he knows. especially with the amount of times the bulbous head of his cock nearly bruised your cervix.

though, it’s difficult not to go all out. you’re so accepting of everything he does—satoru can see that by the way your eyes stare at him. it’s all love. the light reflecting in your pupils makes them sparkle beautifully. he cusses under his breath, “y’re so pretty, baby. fuck, fuck, fuck. y’re making it so hard.”

satoru tries his best not to plunge his cock all the way to the hilt. he reaches halfway with each thrust, the thwacking sound increasing by the second. your legs automatically wrap around his waist and your fingers squeeze his.

“toruuu, fmhh, so big,” you babble, the drool forming in the corners of your lips threatening to drip down your chin. each soft yet firm thrust seems to resonate within you, evoking a sense of pleasurable contentment.

satoru lets out a haughty chuckle at the sight of you going cockdrunk already. he’s still trying to hold his urges back by focusing on your satisfaction alone. “i’ll give you something else to brag ‘bout to y’r friends,” he pants with a confident smirk, kissing your jawline as he ruts into you,

you’re embarrassed by your current predicament. despite that, you find yourself enjoying every consequence that your actions have caused. your moans echo in satoru’s ears, each slap of your bodies connecting sounding twice as loud.

his thick cock is stretching you out so well. your cunt is working overtime to make space for every inch. your boyfriend gently bites your bottom lip, his breath faltering when you clench around him in response.

“‘re ya gonna tell them?” satoru asks through a guttural moan. his hips move non-stop, aiming to please you until you lose your mind. he’ll live up to the expectations set no matter what. he kisses the swell of your breasts, “are ya gonna tell ‘em how you let your ‘lovely’ boyfriend fuck you like this? how y’re a complete slut for his cock?”

you don’t know how to react to his dirty talk. it’s getting you wetter, that’s for sure. your thighs shake around his waist and your tummy feels like it’s doing flips. satoru doesn’t leave it there, “gonna tell them about how good i fill you up, yeah? dirty little girl telling all her friends about our private life, tsk tsk.”

it’s overwhelming. the sudden increase in dirty talk makes you want to cum on spot. you feel like you’re being degraded, however satoru’s touches make you feel appreciated and loved. his hand holding yours above your head never leaves you—a sign that this is still him making love to you.

“am—am not gonna,” you hiccup. the words simply roll of your tongue without much thought. you’re mindlessly responding to your lover. “am not gonna tell them anything,” you continue before cutting yourself off with a string of whiny moans when satoru plays with your clit.

satoru shakes his head, increasing the pressure and speed in which he’s pumping into you. he loves the view of you being so helpless—succumbing to the pleasure he’s granting you. “sureeee, i believe you,” your boyfriend snickers and pushes his pulsing cock in further. his tone is soft but condescending, “i’ll trust my little princess to keep her mouth shut f’me.”

you’re getting so close. your nails dig into his skin and your noises get louder. you’re right on the edge of euphoria. the clit stimulation along with the feeling of being filled to the brim is enough to make you see stars.

satoru nods at your desperate whimpers that alarm him that you’re close to climax. “i got you, baby. cum f’me—i got you,” he places sloppy kisses all over your face and rams his cock in and out of you in a stronger rhythm. there’s nothing satoru wants to do in this world more than to flood your insides with his cum.

his cock doesn’t stop prodding at your sweet spots and it’s making you approach that peak; the peak of pleasure that’s going to push you over the edge. you hold tightly onto your lover and he doesn’t hesitate to return the embrace. “it’s okay, do it f’me,” satoru encourages you once again through a husky whisper.

you’re thankful that you have such an attentive partner. he can go from teasing you to comforting you and it’s the most reassuring thing ever. you’ve never had a man hold you so intimately while he’s balls deep into you.

“g’nna cum,” a strangled moan leaves your throat when you try to speak. your chests are pressed together and your heartbeats match—like the perfect pair you are. satoru feels his balls clench with an aching feeling, needing to release every last drop they have stored into your tiny cunt.

just thinking about the way you were bragging about him again, is enough. “take it—fuuuckk—take it all, baby,” the white-haired man takes a deep breath in and can’t help but bury his entire dick inside of you, that one last thrust making you yelp.

you reach your climaxes at the exact same time. your fluids mix as you feel satoru’s thick spurts of cum coat your insides a sticky white. your body spasms and your boyfriend instantly soothes you by rubbing your back. his own legs are trembling a little, but you’re far more important.

you don’t utter a word and simply focus on regaining your energy. all that you can say are incoherent babbles. “easy,” satoru kisses the corners of your eyes and relishes in the fact that he’s fucked you full of his cum. it’s a reminder of just how much he loves you.

a few encouraging words and hugs later and you’ve calmed down. you don’t fully grasp the reality of the situation until the adrenaline and other hormones drop down to a normal level.

you’re suddenly reminded by your previous words and this time, you succeed in hiding your face into the crook of satoru’s neck.

it’s certain that he’s greatly enjoyed overhearing you talk about him to your friends, but it’s still a somewhat embarrassing memory you wish to forget. “not a word, please. j-jus act like you haven’t heard anything,” you mumble quietly now that you’ve come down from your high.

satoru laughs softly. he can’t help but tease you after that—it’s a given. you’re still so caught up on what happened and it’s endearing.

however, satoru wouldn’t be him if he didn’t tease you about your little comments. without pulling out, he tilts his head back and stares down at you with a faint grin, “do i have to act like i haven’t fucked you silly just now too?”

“satoru!”

[feyburner]

I ??? woke up at 3am with this scene fully written in my mind palace and quickly jotted it down in the Notes app

*

Clark’s shaking his head before he realizes he’s doing it, and feels a twinge of embarrassment at his own bad manners when Bruce stops mid-word to look at him, brows raised.

“No?” he says.

“No,” Clark says, again without thinking, and again with the reflexive urge to apologize. Somewhere his mother is tutting without knowing why. But he doesn’t apologize, because he’s already saying, “No, it can’t—it can’t be that.”

“Okay,” Bruce says slowly. “Can you elaborate?”

He is, honestly, having trouble taking his eyes off the screen. The mockup design of his new suit is there, dark and sleek, ridged like tactical gear. The blue is like the last shade of evening before you can’t call it evening anymore, the color of nine PM in Kansas in July, so exact there’s a strong chance Bruce color-picked it from a photo. The yellow accents are the cool fluorescent yellow-green of lightning bugs. The red is dark as arterial blood. Every aspect of the suit has been updated—the colors deeper, the angles sharper, the S extending to the corners of its frame—but Bruce has done it without changing the fundamentals. It’s immediately recognizable as the Superman suit, just… well, a little cooler, maybe. A little more of the times. Even the tailoring is modernized. The neckline. The shape of the boots. Where the belt hits at the waist. Clark can tell just by looking that Bruce has not only spent a lot of time on this in general, he’s spent a lot of time designing it specifically with Clark in mind, Clark’s needs and preferences and the small discomforts of his current suit, things he might have mentioned offhand after a mission but never with the assumption that Bruce was listening or filing it away. No doubt the next slides of this presentation will detail all the hidden features of the new suit, and they’ll all be incredibly thoughtful if not slightly overkill, and Bruce will pretend his sole motive here was practicality and risk reduction and respond to any thanks with a curt nod.

And Clark wants to thank him. He will. It’s just.

“It can’t be… cool,” he says, inane. Bruce is watching him with that steady look that used to feel clinical, piercing, and now mostly reads as attentive. “It can’t be—like yours. Tactical, military-grade.”

“Lightyears beyond, actually.”

“It has to—Ma said once, a kid should be able to draw it with crayons. You know? I can’t look like a weapon. I have to—I want to look like a friend.”

He can feel himself flushing. It’s rare that he speaks like this, and rarer still that he does so while being stared at intently. Bruce may think of himself as the darkness, but his gaze is a spotlight: unwavering and revealing and more a little sweat-inducing, for one reason or another.

“Sometimes, when I show up, people laugh,” Clark says. “If it’s somewhere out of the way, where they haven’t seen me before. I show up and I look like a festival performer. It’ll be the worst day of their lives, and they’ve got no reason to trust my face, but when they see what I’m wearing—it goes from ‘Who are you?’ to ‘Who is this guy?’ And that’s a good thing.”

“Hard to be afraid of a man dressed in primary colors,” Bruce says, almost to himself.

“Exactly.”

“I see. Thank you,” he says, “for explaining.”

Clark tries not to show how surprised he is to hear that. Judging by the crook of Bruce’s mouth, his success is negligible. “Of course. Sorry I didn’t—I mean, thank you, obviously, for going to such trouble. I didn’t mean to come in here and—I really do appreciate it, I can tell you put a lot of work in—”

Bruce’s eyes cut away. “No. No need. I didn’t ask, before I…. It was only a first draft. If you’re amenable, I’ll incorporate your feedback into the second one.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yes, of course, but you really don’t have to—”

“If you have any further notes, I would like to hear them.”

There’s something determined in the lines of his face. Clark has the sense that this moment is important, that it’s a turning point, even if he’s not sure why. It feels like striking out into a sea of ice, a blank white expanse under which something precious and vital is hidden, has been hidden all along, just waiting for him to find it. To want to.

“Sure,” he says. He looks back at the suit and swallows, and knows Bruce will see the flicker of his throat and take some meaning from it, and wishes he knew what the meaning was. Or maybe Bruce won’t notice or read into it at all. Maybe Clark needs to calm down, in fact. “Um. I don’t want to assume, but does it… do things?”

“It does things,” Bruce confirms, after the barest pause. “Let me show you the next slide.”

[silasours]

ৎ⸝⸝⠀COCKWARMING ! —

#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino, x gn reader. #cw : 18+ content, mdni. unprotected sex. edging. office sex. public sex. sub/power sub reader. no mentions of specific anatomy. vox is in an online meeting for work. touch starved lucifer. val blowing his smoke on you for fun. non proofread because it's six in the fuckin morning and I have not slept a wink. #summary : in which they keep themselves buried deep inside of you while being busied by other stuff. #note : save me, I've been writing nothing but hazbin smut lately. i should really start working on other shows.. alastor's a bit shorter than the others, can't really think of a solid idea for him and I wanted to get this out as soon as possible

ʚ LUCIFER .

lucifer whines when you force him to focus on his unfinished work once again. he has been going back and forth from attempting to thrust into you, but you always found a way to press him down in his place firmly. he had some unfinished work that he left sitting in his office for almost a week now, and it irritated you. that's when you offered to cockwarm him while he worked, get him to finally get his hands on those unfinished works.

being absolutely touch starved, lucifer agreed without hesitation unaware of how miserable and impatient this will make him. his hand remain on his working desk, occasionally scribbling some words and a signature on the paper filled with printed words. he does his best to resist the urge to finally thrust into you, worried that you'd leave him unsatisfied if he doesn't do as he's told.

but there's a limit to how much he can contain himself, especially when he has you sitting on his lap with his cock stuffing you to the brim, when you'd tease him so often by clenching around him or moving your hips ever so slightly. lucifer whines every time, the hand that's placed on your hip squeezing on your flesh desperately.

"can i please.. just finish this up later?" his voice muffled from nuzzling his face into your shoulder, eyes closed shut to focus on the warmth engulfing his throbbing member. you let out a small chuckle, baring your teeth into his neck to draw out those pretty moans of his; his cock leaks pathetically inside of you.

"no can do, luci. you're not going to get whatever you want until you finish up." you pull away and tilt your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss onto his jaw while giving a quick glance at the papers sprawled across his desk. he's only halfway done with them. "you're doing pretty well, no? you're halfway done."

lucifer groans, annoyed as he picks up the pen from the desk again while reading through the papers. this time, you decide to tease him a little more instead of staying still. you connect your lips with his exposed neck, sucking on the sensitive skin as your hips slowly grind against his. you hear his breath hitch, his knuckles turning white from how hard he's gripping you.

your name spills out from his lips breathlessly, following with a whimper that you love so much. you carry on with your actions, dark marks gradually bloom all over his skin like breathtaking flowers. lucifer shifts to lay his forehead on your shoulder, shuddering from pleasure; you tug on his soft hair, firm enough to lift his head up from your shoulder.

"stay focused, luci. remember what's waiting for you to finish your work."

ʚ ALASTOR .

"oh, what a twist!" alastor exclaims with his eyes glued to the book he's reading, chuckling like you're not clenching down on his cock out of desperation. your eyes are teary as you turn to peek at the page he's on, frustration brewing in your chest. upon noticing your reaction, alastor laughs while moving his hand to cup your face, leaning in with a grin. "don't you agree, my dear?"

you groan, parting your lips further enough to drop his thumb into your mouth, biting down on it. alastor mutters a small "fiesty" before buckling up his hips, watching your eyes widen from the sudden pleasure that shoots up your veins. his arm tightens around your waist to stop you from squirming around excessively.

"put.. the fuckin' book down, a-alastor.." your nails dig into his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, the back of your other hand hovering over your mouth with a frown on your face. alastor smiles in response, holding the book between the both of you now that there's a gap.

"why, it has only gotten interesting! patience is key, darling."

"it has been almost a whole fucking hour, alast-" your words get cut off by yet another harsh thrust of his hips, an uncontrollable moan slipping off your tongue. a low, barely audible grunt could be heard coming from alastor because of how you're squeezing around him like your life depends on it.

slowly, he places the book down, pushing two digits into your mouth as his sharp nails graze past your gums. your tongue swirls around them, gaze fixated on his that seems to be mocking your desperation. you grind your hips, wanting to feel more of that sensitive spot in you being stimulated by his tip brushing against it. alastor grunts every time you tighten around him, the feeling making his skin jump and his eyes close shut from the pleasure he receives.

you reach for the book to toss it aside, not allowing him any chance to get it back and return to what he was previously putting you through. he laughs at the action before getting cut off by yet another groan, a frown slowly finds its way to spread across his face despite the grin that remains on his lips.

"the book shall wait after all."

ʚ VOX .

the sound of vox's workers and colleagues echoes through his workplace, the source of it coming from the laptop that sits in front of him. he's holding an urgent meeting with them to discuss some things about work, yet you're here obediently sitting on him, cockwarming him. your arms hug his neck tightly, hands grabbing tightly onto his shirt while listening to him speak to the people in call.

you bite down every moan that builds in your throat, not allowing any sound to be heard by anyone but your partner. times when vox isn't discussing important matters, he leans into your ear to whisper praises, thrusting into you, and stops so suddenly when you're close to release.

he grins as you whine at the sudden loss of friction, skin flushed while feeling him draw lazy circles on your hips with his thumbs. he starts speaking again just when you're about to voice your frustration, drawing out a grumble from you. you stay there unattended, glancing at the part where the two of you connect; you're craving release, and you're done waiting.

with a steady pace, you move your own hips while holding onto his shoulders for support. vox's head snaps toward your direction, teeth gritting as he bites back the groans that threaten to leave his lips. he tries to hold you down, but his body betrays him and allows you to carry on with your movements. his head tilts back to lean against the headrest of his chair, the words that his workers speak gradually shifting to a blur in his mind.

"fuck, w-wait," his breath grows heavy, barely managing to keep his eyes open as you fuck yourself on his cock. you're supposed to be cockwarming him, not riding him. he has allowed you to the point of no return, how is he going to carry on with the meeting now? you grab him and connect your lips with his, drinking in his groans like how he does to your moans.

ignoring the calls of his name from the meeting, he pulls you closer by the waist as you grind yourself on him. it wasn't until he started getting annoyed by the meeting that he broke away from the kiss, strings of saliva still connecting your lips while his hand reached out to shut the laptop down. the room falls to a sudden silence, the only sounds that remain are your heavy breathing.

"you're gonna fuck up my company if this carries on," vox snickers before crashing his lips with yours again, hands holding onto your hips to thrust into you without anything holding him back this time.

ʚ VALENTINO .

you still can't process the fact that you're in valentino's studio with his cock buried deep inside of you while people walked around to work on set. valentino takes puffs from the cigarette he holds between his fingers, often ordering and even yelling at people as they rush to obey his commands.

nobody pays any mind to the both of you; in fact, they see it as something normal. after all, they're working for a porn producer, what is there not to be normal? you keep your face stuffed in the fluff of his coat, hands gripping tightly onto his outfit while still trying to adjust to how good he stretches you apart. everyone has just started working, and the set is still being prepared for a new film.

"you're tighter than usual my love, are you that excited to be around everyone?" he teases with a mocking tone, puffing out a wisp of pink smoke onto your flushed face. you lightly shake your head with a whine, the smoke that you inhale causing your vision to spin immediately. humming, valentino lifts your body up with the help of his lower pair of arms before roughly slamming you back down onto his cock. "I doubt that. you've always loved being fucking in public, no? look at you,"

you gasp, body tensing as a moan escapes your throat. you immediately bite down on your lower lip, eyes screwing shut while simultaneously having your body trembling under his hold. you don't want to draw too much attention to yourself, yet the idea alone excites you in an odd way that you never knew it would. noting your reaction, valentino continues repeating the action before stopping promptly, feeding himself with your choked back moans.

"keep looking pretty like that while i work, i'll have a reward waiting for you." you mewl at his words, giving him a weak nod while tugging onto his shirt. he takes another long drag from his cigarette before letting his gaze fall onto the prepared set displayed in front of him, eyes scanning for the stars of the show in the room.

he would moan softly into your ear whenever you clenched around him, teasing you with his mere voice and carrying on with his work. you don't complain, though, considering how you'll be fucked into a moaning mess once he's done with work.

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[amiableness]

Little Lies

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem! Reader

Summary: James asks Sirius and Y/n to pretend to date after he blurts out they are to Lily.

Word Count: 11.4k

Warnings: smut 18+, male masturbation, oral fem receiving, fingering, unprotected sex (pls be so careful!), reader wears a bikini top, and jealousy

A/N 💌 Hope you all enjoy this; it's been my baby for a while!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I may have severely fucked up.” James sighs, his features tight with guilt as he stands before you. His chest is heaving like he has run all the way to you—it’s a likely theory.

Remus glances up from beside you; the two of you had been buried in your homework in the common room when James came racing in. He’s disappointed that James has disrupted the productive atmosphere. There’s no way that you or Remus will be continuing to work on your essays.

His admission doesn’t surprise you; James has come to you countless times seeking assistance after making a mistake. Being best friends since you were born, you’ve grown accustomed to being the one to untangle his messes.

Your parents were best friends, which meant that you and James were also raised to be. There wasn’t a memory that you could recall that James wasn’t in. It ended up working; to both of your mum’s excitement, you and James were inseparable. As the levelheaded one between you, you often found yourself trailing after James, tasked with picking up the pieces.

It was in the aftermath of pranks spiraling out of control, times when he impulsively voiced things he really shouldn’t have, or instances when he procrastinated excessively on his work, inevitably turning to you for help with his essays. Surprisingly, it’s become almost amusing to you, a reliable routine in your friendship.

You undeniably held the title of James Potter’s best friend.

Your eyes narrow skeptically, folding your arms over your chest, “Define severely.”

His demeanor turns sheepish as he nervously rubs the back of his neck, his gaze drifting away from you. He looks incredibly uncomfortable, “I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“You’re not starting off strong.” You snark, an amused smile finding its way onto your lips. Remus chuckles next to you.

“Y/n.” James sighs, his expression urging you to stop your teasing.

“James.” You mimic.

He shoots you a glare, eyes narrowed in mock irritation, “Lily and I were chatting, like really chatting,” He begins, sighing obnoxiously as he settles into the chair opposite you, his expression a grimace. “She told me why she hasn’t taken me seriously when I flirt with her.”

You pause, confusion etching into your features, “And where exactly did you severely fuck up?”

“She thought we were a couple.” He says, his hands gesturing wildly between the two of you, his expression a mix of incredulity and amusement. “Can you believe that? You and me?”

You can believe that, actually. You and James have been mistaken for a couple more times than you can count. Even your parents were convinced the two of you would end up together. While you had told them it wasn’t going to happen, you were convinced they were still holding out hope.

You furrow your brows as you watch him a tad uneasy, “Okay, and where did you severely fuck up in this?”

“I panicked, okay?” James looks guilty when he blurts this out. He nearly shouts it, and Remus hushes him. “She said it wasn’t fair for me to flirt with her because of you. She didn’t want your feelings to be hurt and wouldn’t listen when I said we were just friends. And I panicked.”

“Mate, get to the bloody point.” Remus huffs out, tired of James dragging out the story. Nothing bothered Remus more than when James or Sirius took an eternity to get to the point of their story.

“I told her you’re dating Sirius.” James grimaces, shifting nervously.

“What?” You hiss, your palms smacking onto the table, causing James to flinch, “Have you taken too many hits to the head? James, we are not dating!”

James protests, panicking, “But Lily doesn’t know that! If you two could just pretend-“

“No, absolutely not! That is going too far.” You snap, sending James a frustrated look, while Remus is chuckling to himself next to you.

“Y/n, please. This could be it! My chance with Lily!” James pleads. He’s desperate to try and salvage the plan he had put all his hopes on.

“Starting your new relationship with a lie, are we?” You snap, massaging at your temples. Most of the stress is from spending too many hours studying, but James is undoubtedly making it worse.

James shrugs, a mischievous smirk starting to form, “Well, not really. You and Sirius already flirt a lot. It’s not that far off from the truth.”

James was well aware of your feelings for Sirius; he had watched how you nervously stumbled over your words the first day you met Sirius. He had never seen you like that before, eyes lit up with inflation at first glance.

While he occasionally teased you about it, he understood that what you felt for Sirius was deeper than just a crush. Though you would never admit it out loud.

Your frustration grows, “It absolutely is far off from the truth. Lily probably didn’t even believe you! There’s no evidence for her to believe the idea that we are together.” You cry, disbelief evident in your voice. James’s casual attitude only adds to your frustration. He doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

Remus interjects, an amused scoff escaping him, “There’s evidence to believe it.”

“Are you joking?” You deadpan, your voice full of incredulity. Remus sends you a teasing smirk. He considers how Sirius flirts with you more than anyone else, but he doesn’t want to deal with Sirius furious at him.

Ever since you met Sirius, you have had a crush on him. Realistically, you knew it was pointless; Sirius had a fan club of admirers. So, you counted yourself lucky that you were one of his closest friends. Being his friend was manageable, and quite honestly, kept your expectations in check.

But Sirius acting like he had feelings for you? You wouldn’t handle that well.

James interjects, “Lily believed it. She even said she wasn’t surprised.”

“But she thought you and I were together?” You ask, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Your tone was snippier than you intended, but you could feel the stress building. The mere thought of pretending to be with Sirius made you feel nauseous.

“She might’ve just been jealous, wanting to know if you had feelings for James before she finally goes for him.” Remus says casually, and James’ eyes light up in excitement.

James is positively giddy as he leans forward, “You think she was jealous?”

“Does Sirius even know?” You interrupt, catching James’s eye. He glances at Remus, clearly hoping to hear more about Lily’s supposed jealousy.

James shakes his head, and you scoff, opening your mouth to enlighten James on why you think this is a bad idea. Before you can say anything, Remus cuts you off, “Here’s your chance to tell him.”

You glance up to see Sirius walking through the library, and you resist letting out a lovesick sigh at how effortlessly handsome he is.

Your stomach plummets at the sight of a stunning girl effortlessly chatting with him. His laughter rings out, causing unease to settle in your stomach.

If he was close enough, you probably would’ve tried to eavesdrop.

Despite not knowing her name, you know she’s a Gryffindor; you’ve seen her in the common room. James nudges you, and when you glance at him, he sends you a knowing look.

“Glad to see you guys are having study dates without Peter and me.” Sirius calls, settling into the seat next to James and patting him on the shoulder in greeting.

Relief washes over you as you notice that the girl who was with him a second ago is long gone. He glances over at you, and pauses in surprise at your disgruntled expression, “You okay?”

Remus chuckles at the question, finding the harsh look you shoot James hilarious. It’s clear that he’s finding this entire situation entertaining.

“Ask James about what he told Lily.” You say, voice strained with irritation. James sends Sirius a nervous smile, and Sirius looks at him oddly.

“What’d you do?”

Sirius asks, his eyes darting back to you, taking note of your frustrated expression. Your stomach tightens with nerves, scared of Sirius’ reaction. Remus leans back in his chair, excited to see how this will all play out.

“Lily and I were talking today,” James sighs, “and she wouldn’t stop going on about how she thinks Y/n is in love with me and that it’s not fair for me to flirt with her because I could be hurting her.”

“She thinks I’m in love with you?” You shriek, oblivious to the barely visible flinch on Sirius’ face at James’ words. Remus catches it, his grin getting bigger.

James ignores you, “Anyways, I said that it’s not a problem because you and Y/n are dating.” James finishes cautiously, his gaze locked on Sirius, curious for his reaction. Your breath is caught in your throat, your eyes fixed intently on Sirius, awaiting his reaction as well.

“You told Lily that Y/n’s my girl?” Sirius inquires casually, causing your stomach to somersault at his words. You force yourself to focus on James instead of the warmth creeping into your skin.

“I panicked, and that’s what came out. So, if you guys could pretend you’re madly in love, that would be great!” James claps his hands together, and you feel the urge to wack him. You’re prepared to snap at him, to explain why asking this of you both isn’t right.

But then Sirius shrugs, “Sure, shouldn’t be too hard, right, sweet girl?” He says, and your legs feel like jelly.

You’re floundering, not having expected Sirius to agree. He’s never maintained a steady relationship, so pretending that he’s dating you is a big ask. His agreement sends your mind spiraling with different scenarios. For a brief second, you wonder if he agrees so easily because he has feelings for you. But you quickly shut down that thought.

You’re delusional. You truly are.

“Sure, that shouldn’t be too bad.” You agree, hoping you appear casual about this.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I need you two to amp it up. Lily is eating breakfast with us today.” James directs, causing you to glance up from your breakfast, disbelief etched into your features. He takes a bite of bacon and casually observes you as though his request is perfectly normal.

“We’ve switched spots, is that not enough for you?” You ask sarcastically, and Remus shakes his head, wearing an entertained smile as he continues eating breakfast. He can tell you’re panicking about pretending to be with Sirius; it’s painfully obvious to everyone at the table.

You’re usually seated between James and Peter, but when you attempted to slide into the seat this morning, James slammed his hand down on the seat and instructed you to sit next to your boyfriend, wearing a smug smile. Peter snorted softly but quickly replaced it with a sympathetic smile, silently apologizing for his reaction.

“I mean, we all know Sirius is into PDA, and you look terrified to even be sitting next to him.” Peter points out, and you find yourself scrabbling.

Were you two supposed to be super affectionate? Would Sirius find it weird if you initiated it? Questions are flooding your mind leaving you feeling overwhelmed.

“I am not terrified. I just don’t know how to act.” You insist.

“Act like you’re in love with him; it shouldn’t be too hard, right?” James quips, earning a glare from you. He responds with a playful wink.

“The boys are right. You need to sit closer to me.” Sirius declares as his arm slips around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You squeak his name in surprise, flustered at how easily he moves you. The boys chuckle at your bewildered expression, finding your embarrassment hilarious.

You feel disappointed when he releases you. Even more so when he doesn’t pull you flush against him. Instead, your shoulder to shoulder, the distance between you both feeling more pronounced than ever.

“I’m still waiting on the PDA.” Remus says with a playful smirk; his eyes are full of mischief when you glance at him.

You elbow Remus in the side, and he playfully nudges you back, causing you to bump into Sirius’ side. Sirius surprises you by wrapping his arm around you, keeping you against him while playfully calling out, “Oi, back off, mate.” Being pressed against his side causes warmth to spread through you as you lean further into him.

James watches as Sirius’s cheeks flush, a soft smile on his face as he gazes down at you. You appear flustered but content, being so close to him, and James can’t help but grin at the two of you.

“We’re not going to be all over each other.” You say, attempting to distract yourself from the fact that you’re pushed up against Sirius.

“Why not?” James leans forward with a grin, clearly finding everything about this entertaining. “That is what most couples do. Plus, Sirius openly flirts with everyone. But he won’t kiss his own girlfriend? It’s not believable.”

“Merlin, we should have talked about this last night.” You mumble under your breath, and Sirius chuckles beside you. He’s entirely at ease. It doesn’t seem like he has any worries about pretending to be your boyfriend. With that observation, you try not to let your worries spiral out of control.

“Listen, we can do whatever you’re comfortable with. If you don’t want to kiss, then we don’t have to,” Sirius tells you gently, “but it would be sort of odd for us not to be somewhat affectionate.”

The last thing he wants to do is make you feel uncomfortable. But there’s a rush of exhilaration at the thought of holding you close and calling you pet names that were once off-limits. And the thought of possibly kissing you?

Surviving that would be inconceivable for him.

“You’re right,” You nod. “Let’s just start off slow. It will be weird if we’re all over each other today when we didn’t even sit together yesterday.”

“Yeah, yeah! Flirt, be a little touchy, throw some cute pet names in here, will you, Sirius?” James calls out with great enthusiasm. You send him a look that you hope he understands as shut the fuck up. He doesn’t acknowledge your discomfort. Instead, he makes a heart shape with his hands, which adds to your annoyance.

Sirius presses a quick kiss to your temple, “Fuck off, mate. I know how to flirt with my girlfriend, right baby?” You freeze, your eyes widening in disbelief, while the boys laugh at your reaction. How exactly were you supposed to survive this?

You fall into a comfortable silence, happy to enjoy your breakfast as James issues his warnings to the boys, ensuring they behave themselves. Remus, with a subtle eye roll, acknowledges James’s words while Peter nods emphatically in agreement. While, Sirius simply outlines every embarrassing memory he plans to share with Lily.

“Y/n, get your man in check.” James complains in mock irritation, throwing a grape at Sirius, who dodges it.

“Good morning.” Lily greets quietly. You all turn to see her approaching, her expression a mix of embarrassment and hesitance, as if she’s debating whether to turn around and go to her usual spot down the table.

James abruptly stands up, his hip thumping into the table. He stifles a wince, trying to maintain his composure as he greets Lily, who tries unsuccessfully to suppress a smile at his reaction. Remus cringes and turns back to his breakfast, unable to look at James.

“Y’ready for this?” Sirius leans in, his voice lowered to a hushed tone meant only for you, effectively pulling you away from eavesdropping on James and Lily’s conversation. You glance up at him, surprised to find you’re a mere inches away from him.

You’re so close that you could individually count each of his eyelashes if you wanted.

You still feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, creating an intimate connection between the both of you.

It feels like a magnetic pull draws you closer, tempting you to tilt your head forward and touch his lips with yours. The urge to kiss him is so strong that it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

You clear your throat, attempting to push the thought from your mind. “I think so. We’re newly dating, so don’t go overboard with it.” You remind him, a gentle smile playing on your lips.

“When have I ever gone overboard with anything in my life?” The smile he gives you is teasing, and it makes your heart pound to have him this close, his eyes sparkling as he smiles at you.

You hum softly in response, “I can think of quite a few times.”

His voice carries a flirtatious tone, “Can you?”

“Good morning, Lily.” Peter’s gentle voice steals your attention away from Sirius. Disappointment and longing settle in his stomach as he watches you pull away and turn to greet Lily, that sweet smile now directed at her.

Lily settles between Peter and James. For a quick second, you feel a pang of jealousy because that’s your spot. But when you notice James’s pink cheeks and flustered expression, you forget all about it. All you want for James is for him to be happy, and having Lily near seems to do just that.

Breakfast goes smoothly. Lily fits seamlessly into your group, and you can tell it makes James giddy. He doesn’t even mind not getting to talk to Lily much. He simply enjoys seeing the girl he’s so hopelessly infatuated with getting along so well with his best friends.

You and Sirius aren’t acting much differently than you normally do, just sitting close to each other and chatting. However, when Lily turns to you and Sirius, a wave of nervousness washes over you.

“I was so excited to hear you guys were together!”

“Oh yeah? So you can finally go for James with a clear conscience?” Sirius grins, teasing Lily, who looks thoroughly embarrassed. You nudge Sirius in the side, and he responds by giving your hip a gentle squeeze. James sends Sirius an incredulous look, which he pointedly ignores. While Remus and Peter chuckle at the playful banter.

Lily tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and clears her throat; her cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. “Uh, no, just that you two have obviously had feelings for each other for years. Everyone knew.”

You’re at a loss for words. Is that really what people thought? Clearly, they read you right, but you weren’t sure what to think about Sirius having feelings for you. Maybe he did, or maybe they were mistaking it for how he constantly flirted with you. But that was just how Sirius was; it didn’t necessarily mean he had romantic feelings for you.

“Haven’t gotten her out of my head since the day I met her.” Sirius says casually, his right elbow resting on the table as he pops a piece of bacon into his mouth. His other arm remains securely wrapped around your waist, holding you close to his side with a gentle yet firm embrace.

You look at him in shock, your eyes widening at his unexpected confession. Even the boys look slightly startled at Sirius’ words, their eyes darting between you and him.

“That’s so sweet.” Lily says softly, her eyes glowing with genuine happiness as she sends you a warm smile. The sight tugs at your heartstrings but also stirs up guilt in the pit of your stomach. Lying always made you feel uneasy like a weight was pressing down on your chest.

“Sirius, I can’t believe you thought that she—“Lily begins, her voice trailing off as James interjects, his interruption tinged with a hint of urgency.

“Okay, love! I think I should walk you to class, don’t y’think?” James stands up from the table, extending his hand towards Lily.

Lily looks slightly confused, but she takes his hand nonetheless. As they walk away, James glances back and sends a wink in Sirius’ direction. Your attention immediately shifts to Sirius, curiosity written all over your face as you’re about to ask about Lily’s interrupted comment.

Sirius cuts you off before you can ask, shaking his head with a gentle smile and flushed cheeks, “Don’t even bother asking; I’m not telling you what she was talking about.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You’re curled up next to Peter on the common room couch, both of you chatting quietly together. For the last twenty minutes, he has been feeding you details about the Ravenclaw girl he has a crush on. He’s sworn you to secrecy. Hoping for your advice on asking her out without enduring the teasing of the rest of the Marauders. Your gasp of excitement nearly gives away the secret, but you quickly compose yourself, offering a reassuring smile to Peter.

“Who is she?” You ask, excitement laced in your voice, but Peter sends you an apprehensive look.

“I’m going to keep that to myself. Your squeal almost let the boys know..” He teases, though his tone also carries a note of seriousness.

A laugh escapes you, “I promise when you’re ready to tell me I’ll be so careful about keeping it a secret.”

“Oi! Are you two sharing secrets over there?” James calls out, his voice immensely curious. He’s sat with his back to the flickering flames, his palms flat against the floor as he leans back on them. Peter tenses beside you, but you maintain an easy smile. Remus and Sirius are lounging in the armchairs nearby, their attention piqued by the exchange.

“All my deepest darkest secrets.” You tease, flashing James a grin. He furrows his brow and sits up, clearly riled up by your response.

“Y/n, as your best friend, I better know all these secrets.” James lips are pouted, his expression tinged with a hint of concern, as if he’s genuinely worried that you and Peter are sharing secrets that he doesn’t know.

James has always been fiercely protective of your friendship. Despite being close to the boys, your bond with James was stronger. There was nothing that the two of you didn’t confide in each other; he honestly did know all your secrets.

“You do.” You smile reassuringly, and James’s expression breaks into a satisfied grin.

The boys continue their soft conversation by the crackling fire, the warm glow casting flickering shadows across the room, while you and Peter sit in comfortable silence. Both of you are lost in thought as you relax in the cozy atmosphere.

After stifling a good five yawns, you glance at the time and decide it’s probably best to head to your room, the quiet of the common room signaling just how late it had gotten.

You inch closer to Peter, before finding the courage to lean over and envelop him in a friendly hug, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

He’s momentarily taken aback, his body tenses at your touch, but soon he relaxes, reciprocating by wrapping you in his arms. It’s a gesture that feels somewhat out of character for you, but after he trusted you with his secret, it seems like the most natural thing to do, a silent affirmation of support for him.

“I think I’m going to go to bed.” You tell him softly, “But I promise we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“I’d like that.” He smiles at you as you pull away. You grab your bag and make your way in the direction of the stairs.

“Goodnight boys!” You call out softly over your shoulder before disappearing up the stairs. Sirius watches you go, his gaze lingering on your figure, his thoughts full of you long after you’ve left the room.

Ever since you moved to hug Peter, his eyes have been on you, curiosity and jealousy settling in his stomach.

“Why the hell did you get a hug?” Sirius asks, his tone laced with bitterness as his gaze shifts to Peter, who appears taken aback by Sirius’ sudden question. Remus and James exchange amused glances, before they refocus their attention on Peter, waiting expectantly for an explanation to ease the tension.

“I don’t know, she just hugged me.” Peter squirms uncomfortably in his seat, his confidence quickly dwindling as he’s put on the spot.

Sirius nods slowly, his lips pursing in contemplation. His carefully measured tone betrays the longing and a hint of possessiveness that he struggles to conceal, “What were you guys talking about over there?”

Remus interjects with a teasing tone, “Careful, Pads. You sound jealous.” A playful glint dances in his eyes as he notices Sirius’ furrowed brows and the discontent on his face.

“He’s got the boyfriend role down.” James quips, and Sirius sends them both a glare.

“I’m not jealous,” Sirius repeats quite grumpily. “I just don’t understand why Peter got a hug, and we didn’t.”

James barks out a laugh while Remus shakes his head, a chuckle escaping him in sheer disbelief.

“You’re jealous because you have feelings for her.” James states matter-of-factly.

Sirius begins to shake his head in denial, but Remus promptly interjects, his voice firm and unwavering, “’ Haven’t gotten her out of my head since the day I met her.’ What the fuck was that then?” Remus repeats Sirius’ words from the other day, perfectly mimicking his tone.

James bursts into laughter, the sound hearty and infectious, while Peter offers a small smile, observing Sirius as he struggles to respond.

“Not to mention, you’ve been staring Peter down ever since Y/n touched him.” Remus remarks while Sirius gazes blankly at him, his expression unreadable as he nervously chews on his bottom lip.

“You really have.” Peter adds with a grimace.

“You like her, mate.” Remus concludes, his words carrying a sense of finality that lingers in the air.

Sirius sighs heavily.

The conversation weighs heavily on him as he sinks down in the armchair, his brow furrowed in deep thought. The boys’ words replay in his mind. He was jealous, and he did like you. He already knew all of this. But he had always been cautious around you, mindful of the unspoken boundaries because of your friendship with James. A nagging worry in the back of his mind that James would be against any relationship between the two of you. James was his greatest friend, and he worried he could lose him if he attempted to go for you. The idea of James being unfazed by a romantic relationship between you and Sirius threw him off balance. It vastly differed from the scenarios he had envisioned, where James would react with fierce anger upon learning of Sirius’ affection for you. The realization left Sirius feeling torn. Did that mean he could actually go for you?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

As the air is warm and balmy, birdsong emanating from the trees while the leaves rustle in the gentle breeze. The sun casts everything in a golden haze, letting you know summer is near. The boys are certain of their decision: today is the perfect day to spend at the lake.

Laughter and chatter echo across the shimmering waters as the boys swim around the lake, reaching where you’re draped over a soft towel next to Lily. You have been trading gossip back and forth for the last couple of hours. It’s refreshing since usually you’re glued to the boys’ sides. You were constantly in the company of at least one of the four.

You feel a twinge of regret in your chest, realizing you haven’t made an effort to have a close friendship with the girls. And you really should have. It wasn’t a deliberate choice; James had always been your go-to person. Then, when you met the boys, you naturally formed close bonds with them, too. The thought of branching out and making more friends never really crossed your mind.

Though you value your friendships with the boys, you decide you desperately need to spend more time with the girls. The possibility of James and Lily getting together has you hopeful.

“You realize Sirius can’t take his eyes off you, right?” You choose to remain silent, only giving a shrug, fully aware that Sirius is merely pretending to be in love with you. To his credit, he’s played the part convincingly throughout the entire week. There have been moments when you’ve found yourself questioning the authenticity of his actions, wondering whether his affection is genuine or merely his acting skills.

For someone who hasn’t had much practice with relationships, he possessed an innate ability to treat you like you were the only girl in his world. Whether it was a reassuring hand on your lower back as you maneuvered through the crowded halls, a tender kiss planted on your forehead when you parted ways, or the subtle exchange of flirty smiles whenever your eyes met across the room.

Sirius’ laughter drifts over from the lake, reaching your ears, and a subconscious smile graces your lips. Lily must have seen your reaction, “Merlin, you really like him, don’t you?”

It was driving you to the brink of obsession. If this was the experience of being Sirius’ girl, you wanted it more than before.

Despite your efforts to contain it, a sigh slips from your lips, “Yeah, I really do.”

Confessing this feels uncomfortable. You’ve never talked to anyone about the depth of your feelings for Sirius, and now you’re doing so under the guise of a fake relationship. You had come close to telling James, but you really didn’t need to. He had an uncanny ability to read you like an open book. Guilt churns in your stomach once more as you think about lying to Lily. What will her reaction be when you reveal that you and Sirius were never actually together?

The silence lingers for a few moments before you gently break it, “What were you about to say at breakfast the other day? Before James interrupted?”

Lily’s expression shifts from confusion to excitement, her eyes lighting up, “Oh, in Charms! I finally wrangled it out of Sirius that he had feelings for you. But he insisted that nothing was ever going to happen because you didn’t like him back.”

It feels like you’ve been plunged into a tub of cold water. Your mind goes momentarily blank, a surge of disbelief flooding your senses as you struggle to comprehend Lily’s words. Your body freezes in place, grappling with what this could possibly mean. There’s no possible way you heard her correctly.

“What? When was this?” Your voice escapes breathless and startled, yet Lily appears oblivious to it.

“Just a couple of weeks ago! I’m so glad he finally told you how he felt.” Lily smiles sweetly before laying back on her towel. If she notices you’re in a state of shock, she doesn’t say anything.

You hear a whistle, and no surprise, your best friend throws himself between you and Lily, “Don’t you two look pretty!”

Lily gasps as James leans down, playfully pressing his lips against her cheek, his hair dripping water onto her. Though she protests, you both can tell she doesn’t truly mind it.

As James and Lily become wrapped up in their own world, you find yourself drifting back to the conversation from a moment ago. Your mind spins, still muddled by Lily’s words. Sirius had feelings for you. Why hadn’t he spoken up? Did he not want anything to come of it?

Your heart nearly stops when Sirius drops down and hovers over you, his hands propping him up on either side of your head. You barely register that he’s shirtless and above you just before icy water cascades from his hair onto your skin. A startled cry escapes you as the cold droplets trickle down your cheeks, tracing a chilling path along your neck and chest.

“Sirius Black!” You had intended to sound angry, but laughter slips past your lips, betraying your emotions. Sirius grins at your reaction, his eyes trailing down from your eyes to shamelessly check out the bikini top you have on.

The boys had been teasing him relentlessly after witnessing how he practically fell to his knees when you walked into the common room wearing a bikini top and tiny denim shorts. You were oblivious to his gaze, heading straight for Lily and conversing about who knows what.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you all day.

He feigns ignorance as you whine at him, responding with a sweet smile instead, “What?”

“Get off!” You squeal, though your tone lacks any real irritation. Deep down, you’re secretly enjoying having him so close, enveloping you in his presence.

“Whatever you want, sweet girl.” He mutters as he rolls off of you, repositioning himself so he’s sitting behind you. With a gentle tap on your shoulder, he prompts you to sit up, then guides you until your back hits his chest. Once you’re settled, he loosely wraps his arms around your shoulders before placing a kiss on your head.

Remus catches your eye as he and Peter make their way to their towels. Unlike Sirius and James, they hadn’t hurried over to you and Lily. Instead, they took their time, chatting lazily while the sun warmed their skin. Remus sends you a sly, suggestive glance, and you respond by narrowing your eyes at him playfully.

Sirius and Remus engage in their own conversation, their voices blending into the background as Peter gestures for you to follow him. Sirius protests lightly, his eyes following you as you pull away from him to walk down to the lake with Peter.

You’re gone for no more than twenty minutes, offering Peter advice on establishing a friendship with the girl he likes, perhaps making it easier for him to ask her out in the future.

Despite Remus’ attempts to draw him back into the conversation, Sirius remains preoccupied, his gaze fixed on you until you eventually return and settle onto the towel beside him, seeking the familiar comfort of his presence. Only then does Sirius relax, draping his arm around you protectively.

He despises the twinge of jealousy that creeps in every time Peter has you to himself.

“Mate, you’re fucked.” Remus chuckles, and you assume it’s due to something amusing said during their conversation. Sirius simply rolls his eyes and playfully extends his middle finger in Remus’ direction, a gesture of mock annoyance that elicits a smirk from both of them.

The rest of the afternoon is spent wrapped up in Sirius as you chat with your friends and bask in the sun.

You spend the remainder of the afternoon draped over Sirius, basking in the warmth of the sun as you chat with your friends. It’s been a while since you’ve felt so at ease.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After lounging by the lake all afternoon, the thought of cleaning up for a party you had little interest in attending felt like an unnecessary chore. However, after an hour of James’ persistent pleading, you eventually gave in and agreed to go. You were confused about why he insisted on your presence, especially when he’d be busy spending the evening with Lily. You couldn’t help but think you could have been snug in bed with a good book instead.

“How long do you think it will take before they get together?” You turn to Remus, who is leaning against the wall next to you. He wasn’t thrilled about coming tonight, either. The full moon was approaching, and he could already feel the effects beginning to take hold.

You scan the bustling room, eager to catch a glimpse of James and determine Lily’s proximity. Impatience simmers within you as you wait for them to get together. Their relationship seems overdue, and you’re desperate for it to happen, bringing an end to the relationship you and Sirius are forced to maintain. Though being Sirius’ girlfriend has its perks, the artificiality of the situation weighs on your conscience.

After a lazy afternoon enveloped in Sirius’ arms, you had returned to your room feeling unsettled. The comfort of being held by Sirius felt genuine, yet it was all fake, and that realization deeply unsettles you. The longer this relationship goes on, the more you worry about your heart being left in pieces at the end.

“Probably any day now. Why? You aren’t having fun being Sirius’ girl?” Remus asks, casting a knowing smirk in your direction. You huff and give him a playful nudge, causing his drink to slosh around in his cup. He chuckles in response, amused by your reaction.

“It’s not that, and you know it.” You respond, frustration evident in your tone.

Remus turns towards you, a genuine smile on his face this time, “You guys are doing quite the job of looking infatuated with each other.”

You shoot him a warning look, sensing where the conversation is headed.

But Remus persists, his gaze steady, “You should consider telling him how you feel.”

You scoff. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not? What have you got to lose?”

You meet his gaze, incredulous, “Our friendship, for starters.”

Remus shakes his head, “Do you really think Sirius would end your friendship? I doubt you could get rid of him if you tried.”

You meet Remus’s gaze, your brow furrowed with uncertainty, “Okay, maybe he wouldn’t end our friendship. But things would definitely get awkward, and who knows where it could lead.”

Remus offers a small smile, “Or it could go well. You could end up together.”

You remain silent, the weight of Remus’s words sinking in as you contemplate the idea of confessing your feelings to Sirius. Your stomach churns with anxiety at the mere thought of opening up to him. The fear of rejection and the potential fallout from confessing weighs heavy on your chest.

But Lily had shared with you that Sirius had opened up about his feelings for you. Maybe there was a possibility that confessing your own feelings might not be as far-fetched as you had assumed. Maybe being with Sirius wasn’t entirely out of reach.

Remus observes the slight furrow in your brow as you chew on your bottom lip, a clear indication of your spiraling thoughts. The dim light of the common room highlights the unease on your face. “Do you want a drink?” He offers, his voice gentle and reassuring.

You pause, considering his offer, grateful for the distraction, “Yes, please.” You respond with a small smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

As Remus leaves to fetch you a drink, you’re left alone with your thoughts, the chatter and laughter of the crowded common room serving as a backdrop to your contemplation. Your eyes wander over the sea of bodies, each occupied with their own conversations and activities, creating a lively yet chaotic atmosphere.

“Y/n, hi!” You startle as Max Townsend stands beside you, his sudden presence catching you off guard. You recall being partners in Charms a couple of weeks ago, but beyond that, your interactions had been limited.

“Hey, Max.” You greet with a soft smile, noticing how his shoulders relax slightly at your acknowledgment. He settles against the wall, his posture casual yet attentive, as if genuinely interested in chatting with you.

“I know we haven’t talked much since Charms, but I’ve been meaning to catch up with you.” Max says, his voice earnest as he breaks the silence between you.

You’re surprised by his remark, “You have?” You ask, genuine curiosity coloring your tone.

“Yeah! I enjoyed spending time with you.” Max admits, his voice slightly shaky as he offers you a shy smile. You notice the faint blush coloring his cheeks, a sign of nervousness.

“I enjoyed spending time with you too! I don’t think I could have passed the last exam without your help.” You respond sincerely, returning his smile with warmth. His face lights up at your words, visibly relieved.

He regains some confidence and continues, “Actually, Y/n, I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade sometime?”

Your smile falters, and you feel a pang of guilt. You have the excuse of having a boyfriend, at least. It makes things a little easier for you. For a second, you debate if you should say yes, go on a date, and move past your feelings for Sirius. But then you think about Lily’s words and how he might possibly like you back. Not only that but you’re supposed to be in a relationship right now.

You can’t bring yourself to say yes; truth be told, you don’t really want to, anyway.

“That’s really sweet of you to ask. But I’m dating Sirius.” You reply though the words feel heavy on your tongue, wishing they were true.

Max looks taken aback, “Sirius Black?”

“Yes.” You confirm, feeling a wave of discomfort wash over you; turning someone down is always an awkward and uncomfortable experience.

Max shakes his head, looking confused, “I didn’t know Sirius-“

“You didn’t know what, Townsend?” Sirius looks hard at him, slipping his arm around your waist and handing you a drink. “Here, baby, Rem said you wanted a drink.”

You thank him quietly, settling into his side with ease. Glancing up at him, you notice Sirius isn’t looking at you; his gaze is fixed on Max. His jaw clenches tightly, and his usual friendly smile is absent. The message to Max is clear: back off, she’s mine.

Max looks uneasy, eyes darting from you to Sirius, “Uh, I didn’t know you and Y/n were together.”

“And why were you talking about that?”

“Uh,” Max looks at you briefly, his expression tinged with panic. He lets out a sigh, reminiscent of a child caught in the act and resigned to confessing. “I asked her out.”

Sirius’ entire body tenses, his tone laced with mock curiosity, “Did you?”

He feels sick at the thought of you going on a date with another guy. Images flash through his mind – Max holding your hand on a walk through Hogsmeade, flirting with you over dinner, and the possibility of him kissing you goodnight before you head back through the portrait at the end of the night.

A surge of intense emotion floods him, an overwhelming desire to lash out, to throw a punch and convey the unmistakable message that you are off-limits.

But then the reality hits him: you’re not off limits. You’re perfectly single, and maybe you actually wanted to go out with Max. The realization sinks in, gnawing at him from the inside, intensifying the ache in his chest.

“But look, man, I didn’t know she was your girl! Honest.”

“Max, it’s okay. Really.” You interject gently, offering him a reassuring smile. Max nods frantically, clearly relieved, before hurrying off in the opposite direction and disappearing into the crowd of Gryffindors.

“What the hell was that?” You turn to Sirius, but he refuses to meet your gaze. Instead, he drops his arm from your waist and leans back against the wall, taking a long sip from his drink, his expression unreadable.

“Playing the part of your boyfriend. You should go find James, he was looking for you.” His mutterings reach your ears, and your stomach clenches with irritation as hurt flashes over your features. He’s never shut down before you, and it hurts your feelings deeply.

You don’t bother saying anything; instead, you scoff and walk away. Sirius’s eyes follow you the second you leave, watching as you walk away with a heavy feeling settling in his stomach.

Maybe he did need to express his feelings to you. There might be a chance that you felt the same way. And if you didn’t, at least he would know and could attempt to move on from you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I think you need to check on Sirius.” James murmurs into your ear as you stand in the common room, waiting for Lily to join you. You’re flanked by the boys, but Sirius is conspicuously absent.

You glance over at him, confused, “Why? Is he not coming down?”

“He bailed, said he isn’t feeling good.”

“He isn’t coming to Hogsmeade with us?” You all had meticulously planned your trip to Hogsmeade during the lake outing yesterday, discussing the shops you wanted to visit and the Butterbeer you couldn’t wait to taste.

“Oh,” You mutter, “I’ll check on him and catch up with you guys then.”

You still harbor concern for his well-being, a lingering sense of care that remains despite the the frustration you feel about last night. You ascend the stairs, faintly catching Peter’s inquiry about your destination and James’ response that you won’t be joining them anymore. You contemplate turning around, half-tempted to inquire with James about his statement, but decided against it, choosing not to waste your energy.

You’re so deeply immersed in your thoughts as you walk through the hall that you don’t even notice the sound at first.

The muffled noise filtering through the boys’dorm door catches your attention, causing you to pause in front of the door. You briefly entertain the idea that Sirius might be genuinely unwell, but skepticism lingers in your mind. The persistent groans don’t quite fit the pattern of someone who’s just sick.

You were on the verge of turning around, genuinely considering it, until you caught a muffled moan that distinctly sounded like your name.

You pause, questioning the authenticity of what you just heard, wondering if it was a figment of your imagination or if you truly heard your name. But then you hear it, “Fuck, Y/n. Feels so good.”

Your legs turn to jelly, the words coursing through your veins like an electric shock, leaving you feeling stunned and breathless.

Without a second thought or even a plan forming in your mind, you find yourself knocking on the door. Inside, you hear a muffled curse followed by shuffling before Sirius swings the door open nearly a minute later, clad only in pajama pants. His hair is tousled, his cheeks flushed, and he’s breathing heavily. The surprise on his face is evident as he takes in your unexpected presence.

“What were you just doing?” Your words spill out more confrontationally than you intended, catching Sirius off guard. The surprise flickers across his face, evident in how his eyebrows knit together and his eyes widen slightly.

“Uh, I-” He glances back into his room, searching for a believable excuse among his belongings. Flustered, he struggles to come up with a convincing lie.

“Sirius,” You press, and his eyes flicker back to you. He appears guilty, aware that you’ve caught on. “I just heard you.”You add, your tone that is firm but not accusatory.

“Merlin, Y/n. I’m sorry I-” He stammers, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach at the mere thought of you possibly feeling disgusted with him or worse, refusing to remain his friend because of what he’s just done.

“What were you thinking about?” You ask instead, taking a deliberate step closer to him. The room feels charged with tension, and you can sense Sirius’s unease. His breath hitches as your presence draws nearer, his eyes flickering with a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

He glances over your shoulder, his gaze flicking to the empty hallway outside before he answers, “You.”

“Me?” You take a tentative step closer, your voice barely a whisper compared to before, its tone huskier, laden with curiosity and perhaps a hint of intrigue. You fix him with a daring look, a glint of challenge in your eye, as if silently daring him to take action.

He remains silent, his gaze fixed on you for a fleeting moment before he takes action, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the dorm without a word.

As soon as the door shuts, he presses you against the door, his movements swift and urgent. You let out a gasp in surprise, feeling the sudden shift in atmosphere as Sirius’s intensity envelops you. His eyes, usually filled with mischief, now bore into yours with a mixture of seriousness and vulnerability.

“Y/n. Why did you knock on the door?”

You don’t answer at first, your eyes locked with his for a few heartbeats before you let out a sigh, “Because I heard you say my name, and now I know you want me the same way that I’ve always wanted you.”

Sirius doesn’t hesitate, his lips meeting yours with a sense of urgency that sends a shiver down your spine. The moment his touch connects with yours, you exhale softly, feeling the warmth of his lips against yours. With gentle pressure, you draw him closer, your arms wrapping around his shoulders while Sirius’ embrace envelops you, pulling you closer as if he never wants to let go.

He initiates with a tender kiss on your lips, then gently nibbles on your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp. Seizing the opportunity of your parted lips, he intensifies the kiss, pressing forcefully into your mouth. Sirius kisses you as if each moment is the first and last time, molding you into pliancy. You willingly surrender, allowing him to kiss you into a state of blissful oblivion.

As he withdraws, a soft whimper escapes your lips in protest. He casts a questioning glance your way as he lifts the hem of your shirt, and you respond with a nod of affirmation. Slowly, he peels it off of you and lets it drop at your feet. Shamelessly, he admires your breasts and how they sit so pretty in your black bra. For a moment, the thought of apologizing for the simple garment crosses your mind, but the way his gaze lingers on you halts any inclination to do so.

He leans down, pressing kisses and nipping at the exposed skin on your neck and trailing his way down to your chest. It steals your breath away, prompting you to weave your fingers through his hair as you tilt your head back, reveling in the sensation. He’s murmuring praises against your skin, ranting about how beautiful you are, how sweet your moans are, and how you drive him crazy. Your heart pounds within your chest, and for an instant, you fear its thunderous rhythm might betray you, considering how near he stands.

“Take it off.” In a hushed tone, you speak, prompting Sirius’s gaze to swiftly rise and lock with yours.

He encircles you with his arms, quickly undoing your bra, and you deftly push the straps down, allowing the garment to cascade down, unveiling your skin. Swiftly, you toss it into the growing pile that appears to be taking shape by the door.

Sirius gazes intently, his bottom lip captured between his teeth, and a subtle furrow forms between his eyebrows, “Fucking hell, y’have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen.”

Before you can utter a word, his mouth is on your breasts. Pressing the softest kisses onto your nipple before gently biting it, causing your breath to hitch. He bends down, mirroring the gesture with the other one.

His hands, possessively grip at your hips, act as anchors, momentarily keeping you in place. However, a growing restlessness takes hold, and you start to squirm, a subtle plea for more of his attention. Silently comprehending your unspoken desire, he wordlessly responds. A gentle tug on your hand is all the communication needed, and without a moment’s hesitation, you obediently follow his lead.

Guiding you, he directs you to settle onto his bed, a silent request you readily heed. Your legs dangle over the edge of the bed as you rely on your elbows to bear all your weight.

Sirius kneels in front of you, easily slipping off both of your shoes and tossing them to the side. He reaches up, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your skirt before tugging it down and off of your legs. You’re left in a pair of gray panties that easily show how soaked you are for him.

He pushes on your knees until your legs are completely spread for him, and he can get a clear view of your soaked underwear. A hushed curse escapes his lips, the words slipping out quietly as his gaze lingers on you.

“You’re fucking stunning. I don’t know what I did to deserve this. To deserve you.” You bask in his words, your body thrumming with warmth and delight as his sweet sentiments wash over you.

He glances up at you, and he nearly loses it right then and there. You’re watching him through hooded eyes, your pupils dilated wide, a silent reflection of your anticipation and desire. He doubts he could ever erase the image of the way you’re gazing at him, etching it into his memory with the fervent wish to witness it for the rest of his days.

He caresses his hands along your thighs, fingers gently squeezing and kneading with each pass. Occasionally, he leans down, planting tender kisses on your sensitive skin, each one a whispered promise of affection. The closer he gets to your core, the more you squirm and let out soft whimpers.

“Can I take your panties off?” He asks, glancing up at you from between your thighs. The pad of his thumb brushes against your clit, and you jolt in surprise.

A gasp escapes your lips as you’re overtaken by the sensation, yet swiftly, you find yourself nodding frantically in response, “Please.”

Overrun with desperation, Sirius pulls at them with such fervor that they nearly tear as he tugs them off. You can’t help but giggle at his fervor, amused by his frantic actions and the unmistakable look of pure desire written across his face. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was drooling, staring the sight of your glistening pussy.

“I want to be inside of you.” He declares, standing up from the floor, leaning over you to firmly grasp your jaw before capturing your lips in a heady, intoxicating kiss. The moan that escapes you sounds so foreign, so unlike yourself, that it catches you by surprise, leaving you momentarily taken aback. You don’t bother vying for dominance, allowing him to take control of the kiss. He withdraws from you leaving your chest heaving and breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“Take your pants off.” You demand, reaching desperately for the band of his pajamas to shove them off. Sirius beats you to the task, swiftly shoving them off himself in a display of impatience.

“Sirius.” Drool pools in your mouth at the sight of him. Long, thick, and pretty. Your lips part slightly, and you look up at Sirius in surprise, caught off guard by him. For a fleeting moment, you sit there, eyes locked, contemplating whether you’ll be able to take him or not. He’s bigger than anyone you have ever been with before.

Sirius doesn’t let you stare for too long before his fingers are sliding through your soaked folds and brushing over your clit. Whimpers and moans tumble past your lips as Sirius rubs firm circles over you to get you adjusted before dipping down and pressing two fingers into you. A cry escapes you at the intrusion, and your hand instinctively reaches down to grip his bicep firmly.

Sirius startles you by leaning down and pressing the softest kiss to your clit, before licking you the bundle of nerves softly. Your body tenses with pleasure, hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

“I’ve always wanted to taste you.” He confesses a surge of heat courses through your body, igniting every nerve ending as you absorb his words. He doesn’t waste another second before leaning down and gently sucking on your clit.

“Please don’t stop.” You plead softly, and Sirius complies, continuing with unwavering determination. He nips and sucks, licking through your folds and holding your thighs open for him. His fingers continue to slide in and out of you; the sounds you’re making are obscene.

You’re struck by the thojught that this doesn’t compare to any other times that you’ve been eaten out. But maybe it’s not just his technique that feels good; it might be the fact that its Sirius who’s between your legs.

Your thighs tremble, and a euphoric sensation begins to build up in your stomach, making it feel like you are floating on a delightful high.

“Sirius, I need you.” You gasp sharply, your fingers instinctively tugging on his hair, signaling for him to ease up. You wanted to come together for your first time, as cheesy as it may have been.

As he rises to his feet, your eyes meet, and contagious, goofy smiles spread across both of your faces. In this shared moment, a mutual understanding passes between you—acknowledging the absurdity of the situation yet reveling in the fact that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

You watch as he wraps his hand around himself, dragging his hand up and down a few times. He whispers for you to scoot back until your head rests against the pillow, and with a gentle nod, you comply. He follows suit, settling on his haunches before you, creating a comforting, intimate space between you both.

“Y’ready?” He asks in a hushed tone, leaning in to hover over you, and at that moment, a rush of memories floods your mind, reminiscent of yesterday by the lake. You’re convinced you must look rather pathetic with the speed of your nod, but Sirius only responds with a sweet smile.

With a grip on his cock, he slides the tip through your slick, both of you sucking in a breath at the sensation. He gently pushes at your entrance. Sirius steals a glance up at you, silently seeking reassurance, and you respond with a simple nod and a warm smile, letting him know that everything is perfect. Sirius catches you off guard as he leans down, tenderly pressing the gentlest of kisses to your lips, a gesture filled with unexpected sweetness.

His gaze shifts, watching as he pushes his cock inside of you, letting out a string of curses as your pussy grips him tight, pulling him deeper inside.

“Fuck,” Gritting his teeth, he squeezes his eyes shut, breathing deeply through his nose, determined to regain control and prevent himself from losing composure. He’s sitting fully inside you, and he has to take a breather because you feel better than he could have ever imagined. The last thing he wants is for this to end as soon as it begins.

His voice sounds utterly shattered, “You’re so wet, fuck.”

You entwine your fingers in his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingertips as you pull him closer, urging him to meet your lips with his own. The anticipation builds as his warm breath mingles with yours, creating an intimate connection before the gentle press of his lips against yours. Parting your lips, you deepen the kiss, and Sirius eagerly reciprocated.

“Sirius. Fuck me, please.” You exhale softly against his lips, and Sirius responds with a low, guttural groan of longing and desire.

He doesn’t waste any time before dragging his cock along the sensitive walls of your pussy, before thrusting back into you, “God, your pussy feels incredible.” The cry that escapes you resonates loudly in the room, and you’re immensely grateful that everyone is out at Hogsmeade. The absence of others allows you the freedom to be as uninhibited as you are, knowing that the full dorms would never afford you the same level of privacy and volume.

“Feels so good.” You gasp, head rolling to the side, your cheek resting against the pillows. Sirius’ hands rest against the back of your thighs, holding your legs against your chest, giving a clear view of the way his cock is so seamlessly slipping inside of you.

He watches you, transfixed on the way your brows pinch together in pleasure, lips parting to let moans slip past. It’s as if a dam has burst within Sirius, an unstoppable torrent of words and emotions pouring forth as he finds himself unable to contain everything he’s been holding back.

“Fuck, you sound s’pretty, sweet girl,” The groan that leaves his lips is downright sinful. “Thought about this pretty pussy all day. Pretended to be sick just to get off to the thought of you.”

“Sirius.” You whine, reaching out to thread your fingers through his hair and pull him down to you. You’re soaked and aching, desperate for Sirius to fuck you faster. However, much to your disappointment, he remains insistent on maintaining a slow, teasing pace.

“Pictured tugging that fucking bikini top down. Watching your tits bounce while I fuck you. Fuck, cumming all over them.” The whine that escapes you feels pathetic, and under different circumstances, you would’ve been embarrassed by it. However, given the situation you’re in, embarrassment takes a backseat.

“I know, baby. I know.” He complies, adjusting his position so that his right arm supports him above you while his left hand gently traces your skin. Brushing over your nipples, trailing up and over your tits, before placing his hand loosely around the base of your throat.

“You’re fucking perfect,” He grunts, admiring how ruined you look for him. Your mascara smudged beneath your eyes from tears, and your lips swollen from his earlier kisses. He loved seeing you like this. Being the one to ruin you, to smudge your makeup and bring you to tears. “Taking my cock s’well.”

You’re incoherent, begging for Sirius to go harder, to fuck you faster. Hands pawing at his ass, desperately trying to bring him closer.

His hand squeezes your throat gently, “Tell me you want me to fuck you harder. C’mon love, wanna hear you beg for it.”

A smug grin tugs on Sirius’ lips as he watches you struggling to form words. You’re getting close if the way you’re squeezing him so tight and rolling your hips is any indicator.

But then a desperate, needy whine with the words he so badly wants to hear slips past your lips. Babbling about needing his cock and wanting him to ruin you. The second he hears your pleas, he thrusts into you harder, setting a brutal new pace that has you crying for him.

“I’ll give you anything you ask for, m’love.” He speaks so sincerely that you feel a surge of emotions welling up inside, an overwhelming urge threatening to bring tears to your eyes.

Overcome with your emotions, you reach for Sirius’ hand and interlace them together before Sirius presses your clasped hands into the sheets. His headboard thumps against the wall rhythmically.

“Need you to fill me up. Please.” You plead desperately, and Sirius curses, his voice rough and strained.

“Shit, that’s my girl. Want me to fill you with my cum?” It’s the praise that pushes you over the edge. Your back arches, pressing your breasts into Sirius’ chest and your legs tremble.

“Doing so good f’me.” He’s close behind you. Your tight, wet walls clenching around him is what does it for him.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna cum. Fuck.” Sirius moans, burying his head in the crook of your neck as his hips stutter and you cry out at the feeling of his warm cum filling you up. You clench his hand tightly, your nails likely leaving imprints on his skin. A sob escapes your lips, and your fingers weave through his hair, a desperate attempt to draw him closer.

You both remain entwined, lost in each other’s embrace as you gradually come down from the euphoric highs. The room resonates with the sound of your intertwined breaths, each one heavy and labored. Your body feels utterly slack, every muscle loosened, and you’re so relaxed that you could easily doze off at any moment.

Sirius presses a couple of tender kisses against your neck, eliciting a satisfied hum from you. When he withdraws from you, a wince escapes you as you feel the separation, and Sirius’ eyes dart up to you in concern.

“Y’okay, sweet girl?”

“I’m okay, just sore.” You grace him with a sweet smile, and Sirius leans in, gently pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Gonna get a towel, one second.” He assures you, rising from the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. You listen to the faucet running and the faint sounds of the cupboard opening and closing. Lying back, you gaze up at the ceiling, absently nibbling on your thumbnail until a smile breaks across your face at the thought of what just happened.

“Here, love.” Sirius says, sitting on the edge of the bed holding a washcloth in his hand. He’s got a fresh pair of pajamapants on, you didn’t even notice him grab clothes from his trunk, too lost in your thoughts.

Sirius gently grips your ankle, encouraging you to spread your legs. His breath hitches at the sight of his cum dripping out of you and onto his sheets, desperately hoping to see this sight again. He murmurs a curse under his breath, his touch gentle as he delicately uses the warm washcloth to clean between your thighs.

“There.” He whispers softly before aiding you to sit up. As you glance over, you notice the t-shirt and pajama pants laid out beside him, meant for you. Your heart swells with warmth as he assists you in slipping it over your head. With a grateful smile, you slide into the pajama pants. Meanwhile, Sirius utters evanesco to fix the sheets up, before joining you in bed.

“C’mere.” He beckons to you, sinking into the pillows, and you nestle against him, finding solace as you rest your head on his chest.

In the silence, you both relish the comfort of each other’s embrace, enveloped in a cocoon of intimacy. Lost in contemplation, your mind wanders, grappling with what just happened and what that meant for the both of you.

“That wasn’t just a one-time thing, was it?” You inquire, the hopefulness evident in your tone.

“No,” Sirius responds, tilting your chin so you can meet his gaze. “I want you to be mine, for real this time.”

The fluttering butterflies that dance through your stomach are overwhelming as you absorb his words. A lovesick grin spreads across your lips, unable to contain the rush of emotions coursing through you, “Then I’m all yours.”

You settle back into Sirius, and his arms hold you against him. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your head lull you into a serene state, the sound of his steady heartbeat serving as a soothing lullaby that guides you into a peaceful sleep.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I’m sorry, so you asked us to fake it not for Lily, but for Sirius and I to get together?” You gaze at James, confused, knitting your brows, while he sits opposite you at the table. Remus and Sirius are absorbed in their own conversation, and Peter is having breakfast with the girl he harbors a crush on. Despite their current status as friends, Peter seems overjoyed nonetheless.

James grins, casting you a smug look. “I mean, Lily genuinely thought you and I were a thing. At first, it really was because Lily thought we were together, but then I realized that this was the perfect way to get you and Sirius together.”

“James! So you lied to us?” You huff in disbelief.

James shrugs nonchalantly, his demeanor radiating an air of casual indifference, “You already knew I lied to Lily; what’s the difference?”

You sigh softly, “That’s true, but what about you and Lily? Are you two getting together?”

James smiles, “We’ll get there eventually. This was more about you and Sirius. And before you start, yes, I’ll tell her the truth.” He sends you a pointed look, and you chuckle, already preparing to remind him to come clean to Lily.

“You’re certifiably insane.” You tease, exhaling a laugh.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it? You got the guy.” James watches with delight as a lovesick smile effortlessly graces your face before you steal a glance at Sirius.

“Oh, hey. Pick up your clothes next time you’re napping with Sirius,” He remarks casually, but the emphasis on the word napping lets you know that he’s fully aware there was more happening than just sleep. “My shoe got tangled in your bra.”