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monzabee · 10 months ago

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prison for life - mv1

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Summary: The one where if anybody hurts you, Max is going to prison for life.

Pairing: max verstappen x pregnant!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, mentions of throwing up, cursing, kinda angsty in some places, jos verstappen

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i’ve been in such a max mood recently that is actually shocking to me, but i just needed some fluffy anything after working on smutty pieces for weeks. i got this idea in my dream and honestly i think it turned out better than i could’ve imagined!! feedback is always appreciated, and my requests are currently open if you want to check that out, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

If you would have to choose a word to describe Max, it would be ‘overprotective’, because that’s what he is. It’s not a bad thing, per say. He isn’t overbearing or controlling at all, but he is simply overprotective. And if you thought he was overprotective when the two of you were dating or when you first got married, you have to admit that you were not, at all, prepared for his protectiveness when you told him that you were pregnant. Apart from his initial meltdown over becoming a dad, or rather becoming like his own father, Max has been pretty chill about the whole thing – with the exception being your safety, of course. The underlying problem isn’t the fact that you’re some sort of daredevil because you’re not, the problem is the fact that Max believes that everything is out to get you.

The olives you wanted to eat for breakfast? Choking hazard.

The candles you bought for the living room (to be purely decorative, but still)? Fire hazard.

The pool lounger Victoria thought would be a cute addition to the pool? Drowning hazard.

The seatbelt in his car that is surprisingly tight? Could be all three, according to Max, given the right (or wrong) circumstances.

So, yeah, maybe he wasn’t that scared of becoming a dad, but he was surely scared of you being in danger. That’s why you agreed to stay back for the most races this year – you knew he didn’t need to worry about you or your baby’s safety on top of the stress he had to deal with during the usual racing weekend. That was until you realised how much you would miss your boyfriend after almost a month of not seeing him due to a triple header. And so, you did the thing any person with a common sense would do – flying out to see him without telling him beforehand, because what’s the fun in that?

The sheer look of shock on his face might be the funniest thing you’ve ever seen when you meet him in his driver’s room, but of course Max doesn’t share the same sentiment as you. Because all he chooses to focus is the fact that you were on a plane – a 0.23% risk out of very 7.7 million flights each year, but still. He spends at least half an hour, just checking you over and assuring himself that you and the baby are fine; at some point he decides that you need to go to the nearest hospital to get an ultrasound just to make sure the baby is okay, but you tell him to fuck off and calm his tits down in the kindest way possible. And that’s how the two of you end up on the small couch in his driver’s room, with his arms around you as you lay between his legs, his hands splayed on the swell of your stomach as he caresses the skin through the fabric of your dress. His voice is low as he tells you about his day, mostly media duties since it is only Thursday, and how he thinks putting a cat tree in the nursery is a bad idea (that was your idea initially, but you can see how having two rumbunctious cats hang out in the nursery could cause problems).

“I also thought about something else,” he mumbles, suddenly busying himself with the flower pattern of your dress instead of looking at you.

You raise your brows slightly, motioning him to continue, but let out a huff when he doesn’t do so right away. “Come on,” you whine softly, “tell me what it is Maxie.”

“I don’t want him to get into karting.” His words are soft, mumbled, and most definitely final. You know how Max can be when he puts his mind into it, and this particular topic has been a discussion in your household ever since the two of you found out that you were having a boy. “I don’t want him to go through what I went through.”

Letting out a soft exhale, you motion Max to six next to you on the couch. “He won’t,” you assure him, voice soft as you give pleading looks at him, “you’re not your father, Max.” He gives you a look that basically begs for you to not dwell on the topic, but you continue despite the look he gives you, “And what if he wants to get into karting? Are you going to tell him no?”

Max tries his best to ignore the knowing look you give him, knowing very well that he won’t be able to ever say ‘no’ to his son, who already has him wrapped around his finger. “I might do that, you never know.” He grumbles, hiding his face in your hair – though the soft giggles coming from you manages to put a soft smile on his face. “You’re supposed to agree with me, you know, we have to be a united front.”

“We’ll discuss it when the baby comes, until then, I’ll be the voice of reason.” You emphasise, poking him at his bicep to convey your point. “You feel better now?”

“Kinda,” he murmurs, leaving small kisses onto the exposed skin of your shoulder as he keeps on murmuring against your skin, “I would feel better if I knew you stayed in bed all day, relaxing.”

With that, you choke a loud laugh, and motion him to stand up as you try to do it yourself – though, of course, he has to help with the baby bump being in the way of you doing any sort of physical activity. “You’re funny, let’s go get me ice cream.”

The only response you get back is a confused look from your husband, his head tilted to the side as he eyes you warily. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Um, excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow, “Your son,” pointing to your stomach, you emphasise your words, “is craving ice cream right now.”

Max’s eyes soften instantly, and a smile creeps across his face. He nods, taking your hand gently as he helps you up. “Well, if my son wants ice cream, then ice cream he shall have.”

You giggle as you both make your way out of the driver’s room, Max's hand never leaving yours. The paddock is bustling with activity, but for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you, cocooned in your little world. As you approach the nearest concession stand, Max’s protective instincts kick in once again. “Is this ice cream stand safe? How long have they been here? Do they have the proper health certifications?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Max, it’s ice cream, not a five-course meal. I’m sure it’s fine.” He sighs but nods, deciding to trust your judgment. After all, you did manage to fly all the way here without incident and somehow alerting him. You both get a generous serving of your favourite flavours, and as you sit down to enjoy your treat, you feel a sense of normalcy and contentment wash over you.

Max watches you with a tender expression, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and worry. “I know I can be overprotective,” he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face, “but it’s only because I love you so much.”

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I know, Max. And I love you too. But sometimes, you need to trust that everything will be okay. We’ll figure things out together, just like we always do.”

He nods, his gaze shifting to your belly. “You’re right. I guess I need to talk to my mom.”

“Why?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.

“Well, she promised me she’d look after you but you’re here, so I think we need to have a talk about not keeping secrets from each other.” He mumbles, dragging a hand down his face.

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Oh, Maxie, who do you think helped me with my bags at the airport? Your mom is unsurprisingly a strong woman.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better than to think you’d stay put for a whole month.” He sighs, but there’s a smile playing on his lips. “Alright, but next time, at least let me know you’re planning something. My heart can only take so much.”

Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice-cream into at least staying put withing the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice cream into at least staying put within the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. He periodically checks in, making sure you're comfortable and well-fed. Each time he sneaks a glance your way, you catch him with a knowing smile and a roll of your eyes, and he returns it with a wink. He knows that there is absolutely no reason for him to be checking on you as much as he does, because you’ll be fine in the cool hospitality suite with enough water to keep you hydrated for years, but he can’t help but worry about anything and everything going wrong. And his worries prove to be true when he sees the one person who he definitely doesn’t want around you.

“What are you doing here?” He asks the approaching figure, “I thought you were not going to be coming to this race but the next one.”

“Given the drop in your performance in the last few races I thought I should be here for... support.” His dad supplies, eyes finding you behind his son’s back on one of the couches in the hospitality, “And I can see the reason for why you’ve been distracted lately, what is she doing here?”

Max scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest protectively, “She’s my wife, she is more than welcome to be here.”

“She’s also a distraction, Max,” his father points out, “you’re going to lose your focus if you keep–”

Since Max is faster than his father where it matters the most, he cuts him off before he can say anything further. “Leave, I don’t want you here.”

Max’s father looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before they narrow into a scowl. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

“You heard me,” Max replies firmly, his stance unwavering. “I don’t want you here if you’re going to criticize my wife and stress me out, or worse, stress her out.”

“You’re being irrational,” his father argues, taking a step closer. “I’m just trying to help you stay focused.” Seeing that his son is not going to back down anytime soon, he points a threatening finger towards him. “I’ll be back on race day, but you better be ready to put in a winning performance,” his father finishes, his voice laced with finality. He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

Max sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair as he watches his father disappear into the crowd. Looking back at you over his shoulder, talking to some interns from the social media team, he can’t help but feel the dread of you having to face his father – which gives him another reason to somehow stop the two of you from running into each other during the weekend.

On Friday, Max’s luck decides to do him a favour as you tell him that you’re not feeling well enough to go to the track with him for the qualifying, and though it is true that he wants you to be with him, he also realises that this will give him one less thing to worry about. He knows how stressful it can be for you to navigate the bustling paddock and deal with the crowds, especially with the added pressure of possibly encountering his father.

“You rest up, okay?” he says, his voice full of concern. “I'll be back as soon as I can. If you need anything, just call me.”

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I will, Max. Good luck today. We'll be cheering you on from here.”

Max leans down to kiss your forehead gently as he mumbles into your skin, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice soft and comforting, “be careful out there, okay?”

Max has one goal throughout qualifying, and to his team principal’s dismay, it is not being on pole. His one and only goal is to get the session done with as quickly as possible and get back to you as soon as he can. After the session ends, he barely waits for the car to come to a stop before jumping out and heading straight for the hospitality suite. His team notices his urgency but knows better than to question it once he tells them he’ll pay whatever fine the FIA will give him for missing his interviews.

Bursting through the door, Max finds you resting comfortably on the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The sight of you immediately calms his racing heart. “Hey,” he says softly, walking over to sit beside you. “How are you feeling?”

You smile up at him, still in his team gear and the hat he almost never takes off, the warmth in your eyes easing his worries. “Better, now that you're here. How did it go?”

“Starting on pole,” he replies, mostly in a mumble, taking your hand in his. “But all I could think about was getting back to both of you.”

You squeeze his hand, your expression tender. “I'm proud of you, Max. You did great.”

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thanks. Let's just relax for the rest of the day, hm? I want to hold you to make sure you’re not getting out of this bed until tomorrow.”

“You know, I would be happier about this proposal if it was until different circumstances,” you sigh, earning a laugh from him as he pulls you towards his chest, being careful not to spill your tea, of course. Why? Because it is a safety hazard, of course.

As you settle back into the bed together, Max feels a sense of relief wash over him. The stress of the day melts away in your presence, and he realizes how much he needs these quiet moments with you to forget all about the outside world and focus his energy on what actually matters instead.

The next day, feeling much better, you prepare to join Max at the track for the race. He’s still concerned but reassured by your determination to support him. As you arrive at the paddock together, Max is more attentive than ever, keeping an eye out for his father in hopes of trying to prevent the two of you running into each other. Navigating through the bustling paddock, Max keeps a protective arm around your waist, and a hand on your bump whenever the two of you stand somewhere talking to someone, guiding you through the throngs of people. His eyes constantly scan the crowd, his jaw set in a determined line. The other drivers and team members greet you warmly, and you return their smiles, feeling the anticipation that surrounds you.

“Max, relax a bit,” you whisper, squeezing his hand as you notice the tension in his posture.

He glances down at you, his expression softening slightly. “I just want to make sure everything’s okay.”

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “but we’re here to enjoy the race and support you. Try to focus on that.”

He nods, taking a deep breath as both of you make your way to the Red Bull hospitality area. The team welcomes you with open arms, and you settle into a comfortable spot where you can watch the preparations for the race. He asks one of the interns to keep an eye on you, which he thought he was being sly whilst doing it, but you of course catch him in the corner of your eye. That’s when you realise the man walking towards him, your eyes meeting in nothing short of disdain for each other.

You stiffen slightly, your hand tightening around Max’s hand as he turns just in time to see his father approaching, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he lets go of your hand and decides to wrap his arm around you protectively instead.

“Max,” Jos says, his tone neutral but carrying an underlying condescension. “We need to talk before your race begins, walk with me.”

Max's grip tightens around you for a moment before he reluctantly loosens his hold. “What is it, Dad?” he asks, his voice steady but tinged with irritation.

Jos's eyes flicker to you before focusing back on Max. “I wanted to discuss strategy, but I can see this isn't a good time.”

Max's jaw clenches, his protective instincts on high alert. “If it's important, we can talk here. I’m not leaving her side.”

Jos sighs, clearly frustrated. “Fine, if that's how you want it.”

Max’s arm remains firmly around you as his father steps closer. “Make it quick,” Max insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. If other people were to see your eyes moving from one Verstappen to the other, they’d probably think you are watching a tennis match, though the situation in front of you is certainly more tense than that.

Jos glances at you once more before addressing Max. “I just wanted to remind you to stay focused. Pole position is a great start, but you need to keep your head in the race.”

Max's eyes narrow, and he lets out a scoff, “I know how to do my job, no need for reminder. Anything else?”

Jos shakes his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and resignation. “Just don’t let distractions cost you the win.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Max hisses, taking a step towards his father as he gently pushes you behind himself. You have to put a hand against his chest to slow him down, though that doesn’t prove to be a sufficient prevention method. “I already told you; she is my wife, and he is not going anywhere so you better get that into that damaged brain of yours.”

“Max,” you try to plead with him, “please, not before your race.”

He gives you a look over his shoulder for a short moment before turning back towards his father. His jaw is set as he looks at the man in front of him. “I’ll only tell you this one more time. When she’s here with me, you don’t show up. If you do show up, you don’t come near her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t even look at her.” Another step taken towards his father has you tightening your hold on him, but he still manages to convey his message. “Try something like this again, and you won’t be in my life anymore let alone my son’s.”

Jos's lips press into a thin line, his eyes darting to you briefly before settling back on Max. “Fine,” he repeats, his tone colder. “Just remember what’s at stake every time you get behind the wheel.”

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.”

It’s not the first time Max has stood up to his father, not by any means. But you can tell that this time affects him in a different way. The weight of the words exchanged and the implications for their future relationship linger in the air. You can feel the tension radiating from Max as he watches his father walk away, and it takes a moment for him to relax his posture and turn back to you. “Please tell me something that will calm me down so I don’t somehow do something that would put me to jail.”

“Okay,” you singsong, quickly positioning yourself in front of him so that you can fix him with a strict look on your face. “You are not doing something that will put you into prison, period.”

“I’m going to need a very good reason because all I want to do right now is follow him to his car and punch him.” Unfortunately for you, the way his jaw is set is a telling sign that, no, Max would actually do something like this given the circumstances.

“There is no sim racing in prison.” You try to provide, giving him a weak smile.

Max's lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile at your words, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. “No sim racing in prison, huh? Do you honestly think that would keep me from doing something stupid?”

“I panicked!” You exclaim, hitting him on his chest lightly as he laughs at you silently. “How are you supposed to help me raise our son,” you point to your stomach to emphasise your point, “if you’re in prison, huh?”

Max's smile grows wider, the tension in his posture finally starting to melt away. “Okay, okay, you’ve got a point,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes. “I need to be here for both of you. But it’s so damn hard to ignore him.”

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, your eyes soft and filled with understanding. “I know, but you’re stronger than him. And you have more important things to focus on. Like winning this race and getting me more ice cream on our way back to the hotel.”

He takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re right. I can’t let him get to me. Not today.”

“Exactly,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, “I usually am.”

Max laughs, the sound lightening the mood even more. “Yes, you usually are,” he agrees, pulling you closer for a brief kiss. “Thank you for always knowing how to calm me down.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now, go out there and show everyone what you can do. We’ll celebrate with ice cream afterward.”

“Deal,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with affection and determination. With one last squeeze, he lets you go and turns towards his team, his focus now fully on the race ahead. “But I feel like I need to let you know that I would definitely go to prison for life for you.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t you have a race to win, Verstappen?”

He grins, giving you one last kiss before heading off to prepare for the race, giving you a grin over his shoulder as he starts to move away, “So, I’ll get the rest of that kiss after the race, then?”

“Yeah, Max,” you let out a breathy laugh, your eyes not leaving his for a moment, “after the race!”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #max verstappen fluff

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fear-less · 5 months ago

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pls i need harry content 😭

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 he's like a poem I wish I wrote

pairing: harry potter x f!reader

➥ In which, harry finally confesses his feelings towards his closed off friend.

Warnings:black cat gf golden retriever bf, reader is a gryffindor, fluff, no smut but it gets 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, they make out, idk what else

a/n: I was trying not to write too much harry BUT HEY, if u guys like him sm I will no longer hold myself back🙏

2.4k words

It was a crisp autumn day at Hogwarts, the kind where the air was cool but not biting, and the leaves scattered across the grounds in hues of amber and crimson. You were sitting by the Great Lake, a book in hand, when you heard the familiar crunch of footsteps behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Skipping lunch again?” Harry’s voice called out, warm and teasing.

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I just enjoy the quiet. Not everyone’s a bundle of energy like you, Potter.”

Harry grinned, undeterred by your sharp tone. “Or maybe you just enjoy pretending to be aloof. I brought you a pumpkin pasty, by the way.” He held it out, and despite your best efforts, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Fine,” you said, taking the pasty. “Thanks.”

Harry plopped down beside you, his untidy black hair catching the sunlight. His green eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and warmth that could charm anyone—though you’d never admit it aloud. You’d always been the reserved one, the one who observed from the shadows, while Harry was the embodiment of sunshine, drawing people to him effortlessly.

“So, what are you reading this time?” he asked, leaning closer to peer at your book.

“It’s a Muggle mystery novel,” you replied, shifting slightly to keep the book out of his reach. “Not that you’d understand it.”

Harry laughed, the sound loud and unabashed. “Is that a challenge? You know I love a good mystery.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the fondness in your voice. “I think your idea of a mystery involves chasing after enchanted keys or dodging cursed objects. This is a bit more subtle.”

The two of you sat there for a while, the easy banter flowing between you. Despite your contrasting personalities, you’d always found comfort in Harry’s presence. His warmth balanced your cool demeanor, and his relentless optimism chipped away at your walls in a way that no one else could.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Over the weeks, your time together became more frequent. Whether it was studying in the library, sneaking out to the kitchens for a late-night snack, or simply wandering the castle grounds, Harry seemed to seek you out more and more. You didn’t mind—though you’d never admit how much you looked forward to his company.

One evening, you were curled up in an armchair in the common room, a book in hand, when Harry bounded over, his energy as infectious as ever.

“You’re always reading,” he teased, flopping into the seat across from you. “How do you ever have time for fun?”

“This is fun,” you replied without looking up. “Not everyone feels the need to be constantly moving, you know.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. “But wouldn’t it be more fun if you had company? Say, someone to annoy you until you finally agree to take a break?”

You shot him a pointed look but couldn’t hide the amusement in your eyes. “And I suppose you’re volunteering for that role?”

“Obviously,” he said with a grin. “Who else could do it as well as me?”

Despite your best efforts, you found yourself smiling. Harry’s golden retriever energy was hard to resist, and as much as you pride yourself on being unshakable, he always managed to find the cracks in your armor.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was during a Quidditch match that Harry first realized something had shifted. Gryffindor was playing Slytherin, and you were sitting in the stands, your usual reserved demeanor on display. But when Harry made a particularly daring move to dodge a Bludger, you’d leapt to your feet, your hands clenched tightly around the railing.

After the match, as the team celebrated in the common room, Harry’s eyes sought yours across the crowd. You were sitting in your usual corner, your expression carefully neutral, but when your gaze met his, a flicker of warmth passed between you. It left him wondering if there was something more beneath your guarded exterior.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

One snowy afternoon, the two of you ventured out to the courtyard. The air was crisp, and snow blanketed the grounds in a pristine white. You’d been reluctant to leave the warmth of the castle, but Harry’s enthusiasm was contagious.

“Come on,” he said, tossing a snowball at you. “Even you can’t resist a little fun in the snow.”

You glared at him, brushing the snow from your cloak. “You’re impossible, Potter.”

“And you’re predictable,” he shot back with a grin. “But I’ll take that as a challenge.”

Before you could respond, he launched another snowball at you. What started as a one-sided attack quickly turned into a full-blown snowball fight, laughter echoing through the courtyard as you darted behind pillars and trees for cover. Finally, Harry tackled you into a snowbank, both of you breathless and laughing.

“Truce?” he asked, his green eyes shining with mischief.

“Truce,” you agreed, your cheeks flushed from the cold and the exertion.

As you lay there, side by side in the snow, the playful atmosphere shifted. Harry’s laughter faded, and he turned to look at you, his expression softening.

“You know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “you’re not as tough as you pretend to be.”

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could retort, he continued.

“I mean, you act all aloof and mysterious, but you’re one of the kindest people I know. You just don’t let many people see it.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Harry’s gaze was steady, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something deeper, something more earnest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said finally, though your voice lacked its usual bite.

Harry smiled, reaching out to brush a snowflake from your hair. “Sure you don’t.”

The gesture was so simple, so natural, but it sent a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the cold. For the first time, you allowed yourself to meet his gaze fully, and in that moment, everything seemed to shift.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The realization came slowly, like the first rays of sunlight after a long night. Neither of you said anything right away, but from that day on, the dynamic between you began to change. The teasing became softer, the moments of silence more comfortable. Harry’s golden retriever energy still clashed with your black cat personality, but instead of opposing forces, you began to feel like two halves of a whole.

One evening, as the two of you sat in the common room by the fire, Harry seemed uncharacteristically quiet. You glanced at him, noticing the way his hands fidgeted with the hem of his jumper.

“Alright, Potter. Out with it,” you said, setting your book aside. “What’s going on in that overly active brain of yours?”

He looked up at you, his green eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before. “I... I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice quieter than usual. “About us.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Us?”

Harry nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t think I’ve ever been very good at hiding how I feel. And when it comes to you... I just can’t pretend anymore.”

Your heart thudded in your chest as he shifted closer, his expression earnest and open. “I care about you. A lot more than just as a friend. You make everything feel... brighter. And I know we’re different, but I think that’s what makes it work. You make me want to be better, and I can’t imagine not having you by my side.”

For a moment, you were silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Harry’s gaze didn’t waver, even as a faint blush crept up his cheeks.

“I... I didn’t think you felt that way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was just another friend to you.”

“You’ve never been just another friend,” Harry said firmly. “Not to me.”

Something inside you softened, the walls you’d carefully built around your heart crumbling under the warmth of his words. Tentatively, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his.

“I care about you too, Harry,” you said, a small, genuine smile breaking through your usual reserved demeanor. “More than I realized.”

Relief and joy lit up his face, and before either of you could second-guess, Harry leaned in. His lips met yours, soft and hesitant at first, as if afraid to break the moment. But as you kissed him back, the hesitance melted away, replaced by a warmth that felt like coming home.

When you finally pulled away, Harry rested his forehead against yours, a wide grin on his face. “Well, that’s one mystery solved.”

You laughed softly, your cheeks warm. “You’re impossible, Potter.”

“And you’re perfect,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with affection.

For the first time, you didn’t argue.

Summer had arrived at last, and with it, a welcome break from the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts. You and Harry had been inseparable since that snowy afternoon. The teasing, the gentle banter, the quiet moments of understanding—everything felt like it had fallen into place. But now, as the summer stretched out before you, things had shifted once again. You were no longer just two friends trying to figure things out; you were together, in every sense of the word.

You hadn’t been entirely sure what to expect when Harry came to visit your home for the first time, but here he was, standing on the doorstep of your family’s house, his usual grin brighter than ever. He'd gotten a bit bolder since you’d started dating—especially when it came to little touches, lingering glances, and teasing words that seemed to have a new weight behind them.

“I can't believe you actually live here,” Harry said, looking around at the cozy, quiet neighborhood, his eyes wide with curiosity.

You gave him a playful roll of your eyes as you led him inside. “It's not the Burrow, Potter, but it’s home.”

Your parents weren’t around for the day—out visiting relatives, leaving you with plenty of time to spend with Harry. It was still early, the sun hanging low in the sky, but there was a languid, warm energy in the air. You felt more at ease than you’d ever been before, Harry’s presence at your side a comfort.

Once inside, Harry took off his shoes, following you into the living room. The house was quieter than the bustling castle, the kind of peace you’d grown up with. You gestured to the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ve got a few things to do, but you can, uh, hang out here.”

Harry was already plopping down onto the couch, kicking back with a sigh. “No complaints here. This place is nice.”

You nodded, disappearing for a moment to grab drinks from the kitchen, but when you came back, Harry was looking at you with an unreadable expression.

"Something on your mind?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.

He didn’t answer at first, instead leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to a hushed, serious tone. "I’ve been thinking a lot about… us." His gaze met yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

You froze for a second, the air between you thickening. You weren't sure if he was being playful, or if he was genuinely serious, but the way he was looking at you sent a thrill running through your chest.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Harry smirked but didn’t look away. "Well, we’re not exactly... new to this anymore, are we?"

The playful glint in his eyes made your heartbeat a little faster, but before you could reply, Harry was standing up, crossing the room in a few quick steps. He stopped right in front of you, his eyes trailing over your face as if he was memorizing every inch of you.

He didn’t say anything more. He simply reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your skin in a way that made your pulse spike. His hand lingered there for a moment longer than necessary, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of something,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with meaning.

You didn’t say anything—couldn’t, really. All the thoughts in your head scrambled together as Harry’s lips met yours, soft and tentative at first, but with a hunger that made the world around you blur.

His kiss deepened as he pulled you closer, one hand sliding around your waist, the other moving to the back of your neck, drawing you in even tighter. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way he seemed to melt into you. You responded in kind, your hands finding the edge of his shirt, fingers brushing against his skin, and the contact made the already suffocating atmosphere feel even more intense.

He pulled away just slightly, enough to breathe. His forehead rested against yours, and you both lingered there for a moment, catching your breath.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Harry murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as his hands traced slow circles on your back.

“Then why wait?” you whispered back, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears.

Without another word, Harry kissed you again, this time more urgently, more desperately, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer. His hands roamed to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the shift in the energy between you, the building anticipation.

The kiss broke as you both gasped for air, but Harry’s hands found their way to your face again, his touch still as gentle as it was fierce. His eyes locked with yours. "Are you sure?"

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you closed the distance between you again, kissing him with all the emotion, all the longing you’d kept buried for so long.

And in that moment, the world outside the house ceased to exist. It was just you and Harry, tangled together in the quiet intimacy of this new chapter in your relationship. The summer sun streamed through the windows, casting long shadows across the room, but all you could focus on was the feel of his hands on your skin, the warmth of his breath, and the unspoken promise of more to come.

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cl-01-kestis · 4 months ago

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Blood and Honey - Tom Riddle x Female Reader | Part 2

Summary: After a week of avoidance and contemplation, you finally come face to face with Tom during Slughorn’s Christmas party. Tension runs high, you swear you hate him, but he’s too addictive to resist.

Warnings: heavy romantic tones, enemies to lovers, cat calling, premarital sex, alcohol, fingering, oral (f!receiving), PiV, Tom is not effected by Amortentia in this AU (everyone is over 18)

BOOMSHAKALAKA

Part 1

If your mother happened to know that you’d done in the medical ward the week prior, she would have a stroke, or at least a heart attack. If there’s one thing your muggle parents always taught you never to do, it was premarital physical relations. It was the 1940’s, sex after marriage was the done thing, but it was a bit different in the wizarding world.

Some students at Hogwarts engaged in thrilling affairs in the school bathrooms or their common rooms when no one else was around, but you never considered it until your endeavours with Tom in the infirmary.

You were thinking about him all week, every day, every hour. You avoided corridors he walked through just so he wouldn’t see you. You’d been avoiding class, studying in your dorm and in hidden corners of the library. One of your friends was a prefect for Ravenclaw, so sometimes you crashed her classes and used the prefect common room as well.

Tom noticed all this from afar.

Your avoidance from him made him curious, but inside he was amused. He found your denial of the situation rather interesting, wondering if you still felt any resentment towards him after what happened. To him, he expected you to pull back. He done things to you no man has ever done, you didn’t know how else to react.

You once sat in class together since it happened, both at other sides of the classroom, but the tension was thick and you felt a hot buzz between your thighs the entire lesson. It was hard concentrating on the subject the professor was teaching when you felt Toms eyes on you the entire time. Safe to say you were the first one who left when class ended.

Today, you had to attend charms class after being warned by one of your professors, knowing your attendance would drop if you continued missing out. So begrudgingly, you took your seat as the first student in class and waited nervously for the others to flood in.

You were sitting at the back of class in your usual seat, scribbling down the topic for today and preparing yourself for the lesson when you noticed him walk in.

Tom was laughing with one of his friends, Avery, who always seemed to get on your nerves. The black haired Slytherin didn’t even notice you at the back of class as he took his seat at the front, making room for Avery as the two opened their satchels and took out their jotters.

You looked away from him quickly, already feeling nauseous as you chewed the tip of your pencil. Others came in a short while afterwards and all took their seats, ready for the lesson.

Your professor started the lecture off by asking the class questions to check their knowledge about advanced charms, he bounced about the class until he eventually asked you a question about the Homorphus charm. You answered confidently, but the sound of your voice rattled Tom’s brain out of boredom. He turned his head, eyes wide with surprise as they settled on your figure at the back of the classroom. Your eyes connected for a brief second, but a sharp jolt of electricity flowed through your veins when you saw the way he looked at you.

Tom turned back around in his seat and suppressed a smile, not a smirk, but a relieved smile. He was glad you were back in class, he didn’t want to be the reason you stopped attending and cause a bad grade.

But Tom noticed the heavy blush adorning your cheeks, the dark hue giving away your embarrassment. He turned his attention back to the professor, hiding an amused smirk.

You scurried out of class clutching your jotters and textbooks, red in the face as you targeted the library for some privacy. The air thickened with uneasy tension after Tom noticed your attendance, you felt sweat on your back and in your palms just at the thought. You pulled open the library doors, making sure it shut behind you before you continued forward.

You walked into a random isle and leaned against the books, exhaling loudly but thankfully no one was around to hush you. You were so on edge, but you weren’t entirely sure if it was a good or bad thing. On one hand, you had to face Tom again at some point after what happened, but on the other hand it was absolutely terrifying. Your body trembled and behind your eyes flashed the memories of what he did to you.

You looked down at your legs, closing your eyes as you remembered his tongue against your wounded thigh, the way his eyes darkened as his tongue caught your blood. Your grip tightened on your textbooks as you recalled his lips against your most intimate areas, his teeth constantly nipping at you as if he was memorising your taste.

A frustrated sigh left your chapped lips as you pulled up a chair at a free study desk just by the window, opening up a random book and forcing yourself to read the contents. Yet nothing could stop your thoughts pushing their way to your attention, you could practically feel his hot breath on you as you covered your face with your hands.

The memory of him stained your soul, the way he made you feel so vulnerable and defenceless against the hospital bed. He had you in his grip in those moments, making you come undone with just his tongue and fingers, it hurt your ego.

You’d admittedly touched yourself countless times after, trying to match the same orgasms he gave you, but nothing ever worked. The only thing that gave you a brief release was your pillow, but even that was rare due to the other girls in your dorm.

Someone abruptly broke you out of your endless trance, your own friend Samantha, who shared potions class with you. She sat down loudly beside you, startling some other students in the process, and placed her hand on your wrist.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you” She chuckled, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she looked at you excitedly. You cleared your throat and smiled, turning so you could face her.

“What for?” You asked politely, hoping you didn’t look too suspicious before she arrived.

Samantha closed your textbook and grabbed both of your hands, green eyes glistening in the candlelight above your desk.

“Well, for starters, Slughorns been trying to reach you all week but couldn’t find you at all,” The Slytherin student smirked, noticing your eyebrow raise in question.

“He wants you to attend tomorrow’s Slug club party” Her words caused you to groan, purposefully banging your head against the desk as you realised the party was this close. You knew it was happening before the Christmas holidays, it was Slughorns way of welcoming the students back for another term, you even attended the one last year.

“Merlin’s beard, I didn’t realise it was that close” You leaned back in your seat with defeat, looking at Samantha when she giggled at your reaction.

“I’ve been invited as well so you can borrow one of my dresses if you’re short of things to wear” She offered kindly, but you weren’t even sure if she was the same size as you. She saw the hesitance in your eyes and smiled.

“You can come to my dorm before the party, we can get ready together” She squeezed your hands for reassurance. You couldn’t help but nod, not wanting to disappoint her.

Samantha clapped her hands together, happy with your answer. She knew you a lot better than many people at Hogwarts, she’d been your friend for over a year now and without her you’d stay in your shell. But with her support, you could probably survive Slughorns party tomorrow night.

But as you packed your things and left for your dorm, you stopped dead in your tracks when you realised who was also going to Slughorns party. You felt like one of the castle ghosts face palmed you, you felt so stupid.

Tom was going to Slughorns party too. He went to every one, but never under these circumstances. Everytime you both went previously, the night had been full of snarky comments and comments that could’ve been regarded as bullying. But now, oh, why now.

You walked back to your dorm with your tail between your legs, dreading tomorrow.

The next day came too fast, and so did the moons sudden appearance outside Samantha’s dorm window, reminding you of the time. Slughorns party started at 7 o’clock, it was currently 6:15. Since Samantha’s dorm was so close to Slughorns quarters, it would only be a minutes walk.

You were sitting on the floor cross legged beside Samantha, applying makeup next to the small vanity just beside her bed. The mirror was wide enough for the two of you, knees touching and elbows occasionally bumping. You looked on theme, eyes dark with black liner and lips tinted with rose powder. The party was always darkly lit and attendees would always wear black or dark coloured clothing.

Samantha curled your hair and assisted with your outfit. You opted to wear something comfortable, knowing you wouldn’t spend long at the party. You ended up wearing a knee length dress with short sleeves and a square neckline. It was a perfect balance of casual and endearing.

Slipping on your shoes, you followed Samantha out of the girls dormitory and down the stairs into the common room, arm in arm. A few students lounged on the couches, mostly male, and whistled at the two of you as you left the staircase. Samantha didn’t shy away from the attention and blew a kiss at them, but you just smiled and waved, not sure how to react at the sudden attention. The boys continued howling and calling after you, but Samantha quickly dragged the two of you out into the hallway.

The two of you looked at each other and shared a moment of laughter, trying not to be too loud in case they heard.

As you expected, it didn’t take long at all to arrive at Slughorns party. You were the one to knock on the beautifully carved door, hands clutching at the shrug Samantha lent you.

You spoke with Samantha about something not too important before the door was opened, but your blood immediately ran cold as you locked eyes with the person who answered, dark eyes staring right back at you.

Tom’s face contorted into surprise when he saw it was you, realising this was the closest you’d been since last week. The noise inside the party muffled as his lips parted, as if he was going to say something to you.

“Evening Tom” Samantha greeted coldly, breaking the silence as she glared at him with a fake smile. Tom blinked at her, quickly rolling his eyes and opening the door further so you could both walk in. Samantha went first, then you went second.

You walked past Tom and felt your body shudder as you felt his eyes on you, quickly catching up with Samantha who walked straight towards Slughorn. The professor beamed when his eyes landed on the two of you, arms spread before clapping his hands together.

“How wonderful to see you both!” He shook your hands, but his attention was directed specifically towards you.

“I’m glad you’ve recovered from your brief sickness, I hope to see you in my class tomorrow Miss (S/N)” Slughorn teased, causing a blush to rise on your cheeks. You chuckled, playing along with his antics to avoid any awkwardness.

“Of course, professor” You offered your best smile, relieved when he moved onto Samantha who had a few questions for him about an upcoming assignment.

You walked over to Slughorns extravagant fireplace, standing by it to receive some kind of warmth. You rubbed your hands together, holding them nearby the cackling flames which offered comfort.

Someone behind you quietly cleared their throat, but you didn’t need to turn around to know exactly who it was.

You suppressed a nervous smile, holding your shawl in your arms as you looked over your shoulder. Tom was already looking straight at you when your eyes locked, his face adorning an undeniably handsome smile. You slowly turned your body around so you were facing him, you briefly allowed yourself to study his appearance, knowing he wouldn’t mind.

Tom cleaned up nicely, wearing black dress trousers and a white button up. He ditched his dinner jacket, his sleeves rolled up halfway and the top button at his collar undone. He wore a waistcoat which only made him look even more delectable. You could barely keep your eyes off him, no one could pay you to look away.

“It’s nice to see you” Tom broke the tension, taking a step forward so he was close enough to touch you. You didn’t move back, looking up as he inspected your face intricately. His eyes trailed down to your lips, noticing the tinge of rose coating them. Tom saw the reluctance in your expression, the fear of questioning what happened in the medical ward a week prior. You weren’t an often vulnerable person, nor were you shy, but in this moment you felt like the world would crumble if you uttered a single word to him.

“Are you feeling alright?” Tom asked, keeping his hands firmly in his pockets even though he wanted to brush the loose strand of hair from your forehead. You cleared your throat, looking down at your feet before replying.

“I’ve been fine, my leg healed up nicely” You didn’t mean to sound coy, but you shared a playful smile with Tom as he raised a brow, your minds going to the exact same, dirty place.

“I’m glad to hear, i can see the mark I made didn’t last long either” Tom whispered cruelly, his hand raising to brush just under your jaw, right where he made his mark on you in the infirmary. You shivered at his touch, sucking in a sharp breath as he tucked his hand back into his trouser pocket.

“I had to use some spells to make it heal faster, didn’t want anyone seeing it” You mumbled, aware of the other eyes in the room as other students started filling in. Tom couldn’t stop the smirk that parted his lips, shrugging his shoulders in a gesture of passive agreement, even though he secretly wanted everyone to know.

“I can’t argue that, maybe I should leave more next time-“

“Tom” You hissed, earning a sharp chuckle from him.

“I’m only joking, I’ll be a gentleman for the evening” The Slytherin prefect offered you his arm with a charming grin, dark eyes enticing you closer. You rolled your eyes and put on your best fake glare, keeping up the act you once had before everything happened.

Samantha was indulging in flirtatious conversation with a year 7 Gryffindor, her eye catching the shocking sight of you and Tom Riddle getting along. She almost let her glass slip from her hand, mouth hanging open as she trailed off her sentence.

It was a strange sight, and you did feel rather strange. You felt like you were betraying the person you were before the infirmary incident; the same person who wouldn’t have touched Riddle even if he was the last thing on earth.

But now the dynamic took a scandalous turn. The person you hated most, more than anyone in the entire world, reduced you to pleasured tears against a hospital bed. Knowing that alone made this moment much more intense, and Tom could sense your emotions just by the squeeze you gave his arm as you strolled around the room.

Slughorn’s eyes lit up when the two of you approached him, his expression twisting into subtle shock when he realised you two were arm in arm. The Professor was aware of the long term rivalry between the two of you, so your sudden closeness came as a surprise to him.

“If it isn’t my best students” Slughorn greeted with a large smile on his face.

“Evening Professor, great party as always” Tom bluffed, earning a wink from the Professor who pat him on the shoulder.

“You flatter me, Tom,” Slughorn scoffed lightheartedly.

“I hope you’re feeling better after that fall you had, Miss (Y/N), I was informed by the healers of your nasty injury” The old man had no clue of the thoughts running through you and Tom’s head the moment he brought up your injury. You had a sudden urge to shove Tom, knowing exactly what he was thinking as he stifled a wicked smirk.

“Thank you, Professor, I’m feeling much better” You assured him with a kind smile, enough to appease Slughorn’s concern.

“I’m glad to hear it young lady, I’m also glad to see the two of you getting along so well” The Professor had a knowing look in his eye, an almost teasing smile growing on his face as you felt yourself blush.

“You could say we’ve put aside our differences” Tom answered, a somewhat ominous tone to his voice. But nevertheless, Slughorn never questioned his favourite student regardless of the suspicion.

“Well, I’m glad! Maybe I should start pairing the two of you together during class” The Professor teased, but a part of you felt inclined to believe he was serious.

Looking at it from Slughorn’s perspective, partnering you and Tom together would make literal and figurative magic. You were both the top students in potions class, but together? You weren’t sure what lengths you could reach.

“I wouldn’t complain, Professor, Miss (S/N) would make an excellent partner” Tom smirked, noticing your fingers slightly tighten against his arm.

“Thank you, Tom” I smile, glancing at Slughorn who raised a playful brow at Tom’s flirty demeanour. Nevertheless, Slughorn kept the idea lingering in his head as he moved onto another student, leaving you and Tom to your own devices once more.

“I think we’d end up killing each other if we were partnered together” You whispered with a quiet chuckle.

“Hmm, maybe you’re right” Tom raised a hand to gently brush a loose strand away from your forehead, a strangely sweet and intimate gesture no one had ever done for you before.

“Your friend- what was her name… Samantha,” Tom sighed.

“She hasn’t stopped glaring at me for the past five minutes, I assume she carries a certain distaste for me?” Tom asked you in a sultry tone, his beady eyes glancing down at you.

“Most likely, she’s probably just confused” You brush off his concerns about Samantha, knowing you would face her wrath the next day.

Just as he was about to reply, Slughorn announced the meal would be starting, beckoning all the students closer to the dining table which was set with delicious food.

You separated from Tom and sat beside Samantha, who blatantly stared you down as you settled into the antique armchair. Her blue eyes felt icy on your face as you turned to meet her gaze, realising she was silently inquiring about Tom.

“Since when did you and Mister Dark and Broody get along?” She muttered under her breath as she took a sip of champagne on the table. You bit your tongue for a few seconds, about to answer when Slughorn pinged his knife against his wine glass, preparing all of us for a speech. Everyone’s mumbling turns into silence as all eyes settle on the potions teacher.

“Thank you all for coming to our Christmas Slug Club party, I’m delighted you all could make it,” Slughorn starts with a dashing smile, his cheeks slightly rosy from all the red wine he consumed.

“Tonight we celebrate the greatness that has come from each and every student sitting at this table. You have all exceeded magnificently in your studies, I am honoured to know such charming students” Slughorn stated with a positively delightful tone. You couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed on your own face, knowing he truly meant it towards every person at the table. Everyone toasted and cheered to his speech, clinking glasses together and mumbling praise before dinner began.

The plates magically blossomed with food, your eyes lit up at the ensemble of delicious combinations and condiments. You didn’t waste a moment, picking at the food politely with your work before taking a sip of wine. Samantha cleared her throat beside you, her eyes already looking at you.

“Continuing our conversation; Mister Slytherin Prefect has a soft spot for you now. When on earth did that happen?” The Gryffindor mumbled as other students dispersed in their own conversations. You sighed, knowing this conversation was inevitable.

“One day, we decided to put aside our immaturity and focus on better things. There’s no other reason” You answer, trying your absolute best to avoid any further suspicion. The last thing you wanted Samantha knowing was the truth.

Samantha gave you a sarcastic glare, knowing you were lying to her. But she didn’t pry, instead she dug into her own food and mumbled something to herself, her knife digging into her steak a little too harshly.

As your eyes searched around the table, you immediately looked back down at your plate once you noticed Tom already looking at you. Your neck rose with heat, your ears turned red, it felt so provocative for such a simple gesture. You took a gamble of bravery and looked up once again, this time meeting Tom’s gaze and not looking away.

His gaze was all consuming, his eyes were almost black, peering into the very depths of your soul with just a simple glance. Tom’s presence at the table was bold, he had his friends sitting at either side of him with smug expressions as they looked across the table at other students. But Tom wasn’t interested in anyone else, he didn’t even look at his friends if they spoke to him. He offered the most subtle glance, but it had your heart racing. You could feel your corset become rather suffocating, your chest gently rose every time you inhaled, accentuating your cleavage in the dress you were wearing. Tom didn’t miss that detail. He also didn’t miss the timid posture you expressed after your eyes met.

Dinner had come to an end, you managed to eat most of it but your mind was too occupied with Tom, you ended up skipping desert.

Students moved to the large space in Slughorn’s quarters to dance, a floating quartet playing classical in the corner. Samantha walked over to the dance floor with the 7th year Gryffindor she was flirting with before dinner, you smiled and watched as she made her move. You were standing alone, sipping some champagne, when someone stood beside you. You bit your tongue to stop yourself from smiling, nerves swirling in your belly as you looked up to meet Tom’s eyes. He had his hands in his trouser pockets, casually spectating the fairly busy dance floor before looking down at you.

“Would it be completely terrible to ask you for a dance?” He asked with a smirk, his aura radiating confidence and calculation.

“I think I would rather be set on fire by a Chinese Fireball” You scoff, maintaining a sharp wit like you once had before the infirmary incident. Tom laughed louder than you expected, shaking his head softly as he looked at the dance floor.

“You’d probably end up standing on my shoes, you’d be a terrible partner” He berated playfully.

“I’d purposefully stand on your shoes, I’d also dance in the wrong direction and make a fool of myself” You chuckle, taking another sip of your champagne. Tom bit back a smirk, flashing you another glance before clearing his throat.

“As long as you don’t fall over and hurt yourself again” Tom mumbled, causing your heart to skip as you swallowed your wine. You knew he was referencing last week; your fall and the wound on your leg. You bit your tongue to stop yourself from making a provocative comment.

“I’m sure you’d like that” You say, keeping your gaze focused on the dancing couples to save some sanity.

“If that means I get to see you sprawled out and whining my name again, then yes” Tom replied nonchalantly, but it almost caused you to choke on your champagne as you sipped on it. Your face burned, your body tingled with goosebumps at the memory. You shake your head, smiling as you turn to look at him.

“I didn’t realise you wanted that to happen again” You reply as casually as possible, but inside your heart was imploding with nerves.

“You thought that was only a one time thing? I’m almost insulted you think I’m that shallow” Tom smirked arrogantly, looking back out at the dance floor as people socialised. You weren’t sure what to say at first, feeling your stomach twist with undeniable desire. Last week, he didn’t even make you touch him. You didn’t even get the chance to unbutton his shirt or unzip his trousers. He placed every ounce of his focus on you, you shivered when you realised it might happen again.

“I didn’t mean to sound ignorant,” You mutter, your tone suddenly much more timid as you clear your throat.

“I’m just pleasantly surprised” You hum, still very unsure how to word your emotions and the attraction you felt towards him. Tom only grinned, chuckling to himself as he watched you struggle to muster the right words.

“You avoided me all week, do I make you that nervous?” Tom suddenly asks, making you blush shamefully.

“You do, but surely you can’t blame me. No one’s ever made me feel the way you have, somehow I resent you for it” I whisper, earning an even wider grin from the Slytherin prefect.

“Resent? Somehow that makes me desire you even more. Tell me, what was the part that made you resent me?” Tom smirked boastfully, turning to face you as you tried to avoid his gaze.

“Its just-… I just feel like it’s so unfair that the person I grew up hating is the one who made me feel so good, I’m not supposed to feel this way towards you” You say, feeling your self composure slip away as you unveil more of your emotions to Tom. He takes a step closer, his eyes burning into yours.

“So that’s it? You’re too full of your own ego, you don’t want to accept that I was the one who had you crying from pleasure, that it was me who effortlessly picked you apart until you were nothing but a shaking mess” Tom’s voice lowered as he spoke, truly testing your composure as you tried to act as normal as possible to anyone outside of the conversation. You could feel your panties pool with arousal just from his words, you could feel the delicious burning twist in your lower belly as you imagined him taking you once again. He knew you were thinking of it.

“You’re insufferable” You whisper, your hands gently shaking as you take a sip of wine.

“I’m honest, darling” Tom replies, tilting your chin up to look into his eyes. You felt like jelly, one move and you’d melt on the floor.

“Meet me in the room of requirement tonight at twelve if you want this to continue, but if not I won’t speak of it ever again” Tom says softly before letting go of your chin and reluctantly pulling away. You wanted to reach out to him, to drag him away and fulfil your shared desires. But now wasn’t appropriate.

You let out a deep breath, your heart racing as you registered what just happened. You already knew your decision, you weren’t going to let Samantha or anyone else stop you.

Speaking of which, Samantha had walked off with the Gryffindor boy, no doubt sneaking off into the girls bathrooms or the potions cupboard. So, you picked up your bag and shawl and left the party without another word. You couldn’t stay there any longer, but you checked the clock and realised it was already 11:35. Your stomach sank, you had to mentally prepare yourself for what was going to happen tonight. No one was looking for you, you’d deal with Samantha in the morning, but Tom was expecting you.

You started walking along the halls of Hogwarts, your heels clicking against the stone flooring. You walked up flights of stairs and passed by common rooms to reach the room of requirement. It was deadly quiet, not a soul roamed the halls apart from ghosts, so you had to be careful.

You came across the room of requirement door, only to find Tom hadn’t arrived yet. You wondered if you should go inside, but how would he know you were there? Shuffling in your spot, you glance at the corridors either side of you, your hands tingling with pins and needles as you try to control your breathing.

You were making the right choice, right? Was there a wrong choice to this situation? Tom made it clear nothing would happen again if you didn’t meet him here, he wouldn’t ever speak of it again. Was that the wrong choice? It felt like it. You felt as though denying your one true desire would be wrong, people are meant to feel like this about someone, eventually.

But Tom wasn’t your suitor. He wasn’t a prospecive partner or a man your parents picked out to court. He didn’t treat you like a lady, he trampled over your victories and spitefully teased you over the past 6 years. What was so tempting about a man like that?

Nothing, really. But what occurred a week prior sent every part of your hatred down the drain towards him. Tom never had a partner, he never showed interest in girls or even boys, he spent his time nestled in books and parchments, huddled away from the world in his own little bubble. So, why did he choose you to torment so wickedly with his tongue and fingers, why were you the only one who experienced his selfless nature? He never even let you touch him, but he touched you like he was obsessed.

“You came” Soft words knocked you completely out of your trance, causing you to jump softly and turn around to meet Tom’s face. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest, your hands trembled as you adjusted your grip on your clutch bag.

Tom stood a few meters away from you with his hands in his pockets, a serious expression on his face as the bricks on the wall started moving beside you, unveiling a door which led into the room of requirement.

You looked at Tom, clearing your throat.

“I won’t avoid you anymore,” You say, feeling your throat go dry as he took a step closer. But eventually, the words started bubbling up in your chest, your lips parting as you take a deep breath.

“I-… I can’t escape this feeling, I don’t- shit, I don’t know what you’ve done to me” You stammer, piecing together your emotions as Tom continued walking closer.

“I’ve tried ignoring it, I’ve tried ignoring you, but I can’t stand this tension any longer, Tom” You sigh, your voice becoming more shaky as you realised the proximity between you.

“I need to know if you feel the same, say something please-“ You whisper pitifully, but your words get cut off when you feel Tom cup your face, his other hand sliding around your waist as he leans down to kiss you.

It’s not your average kiss, it’s not the type of kiss you see walking down the street or imagine in a romantic novel. This is a kiss that leaves you frozen, it’s so pleasurably relieving, even as your body melts in his arms as you close your eyes and let your lips mold together. His kiss is hungry, it’s powerful, it’s shockingly debaucherous, but there’s a tender essence as he holds you close and tightens his grip on your lower back.

You wrap your arms around his neck, he gently pressed you against the cobblestone wall next to the room of requirement door as his hands moved to your waist.

This was too much. Surely you were dead. No amount of ecstasy or adrenaline like this could be experienced in a mortal life. Maybe you were dreaming.

“I want to be absolutely certain,” Tom whispered as he trailed his lips down your jaw, his kisses casting a burning path on your skin as he breathed against your pulse point.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks, pressing one gentle kiss to your collarbone before pulling back, his black eyes looking into yours deeply. For a few seconds, you forget to reply. Your eyes are half lidded, your breaths are shallow and laboured, did he place some kind of spell on you?

“I’ve never been so sure” You say shamelessly, your hands wandering to his tie and tugging on it, pulling him towards you so your lips were brushing together. You were almost certain you noticed a blush on Tom’s pale cheeks, his lips pulling into a boyish smile before he kissed you gently and took your hand, leading you into the room of requirement.

The heavy door whined loudly as Tom pushed it open, leading you inside before closing it over and turning to face the room. You expected the standard hall full of discarded magical items that had been gathered over the centuries. What you didn’t expect was an entirely new room. It was much smaller, the walls were cobblestone, the low cackling of fire echoed around the room.

Your heart nearly sunk to your feet the moment your eyes landed on… a bed. It was plush, something neither of you could ever afford. It’s frame was rich oak wood with a varnish finish, the mattress was large, could hold at least three. Beside the bed was a cosy fireplace, it’s amber light casting a gentle glow on the room. You were in such shock, you didn’t notice the heavy breath that left your lips as you took a few steps forward.

So this is what the two of you required. Something from your deepest desires, something neither of you could acquire. Neither you or Tom came from aristocracy, you weren’t used to lush beds or warm fireplaces, this was something the two of you desired. The room appeared to know exactly what you needed in this moment, at least that’s what it’s purpose was.

His hands slipped around your waist, his chest pressing against your back as his lips grazed the shell of your ear. Suddenly your dress felt suffocating.

“Do you still resent me?” He cooed, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your waist as he looked down at the bed from over your shoulder. You bit your tongue, your hands clammy and your heart hammering wildly against your chest as you softly leaned against him.

“What happens if I say yes?” You whisper, feeling him grin against your skin as his hands move up to the collar of your dress just behind your neck. His nimble fingers begin to undo the buttons down your back, wasting no time as he slid his hands under the fabric and started to untie the laces to your corset.

“I’ll give you a reason to resent me even more” Tom murmured against your neck, his hands teasingly tightening the laces of your corset, causing you to gasp quietly.

“I’m sure that’s not hard” You scoff.

You knew in that moment you should’ve held your tongue, because seconds later you were shoved against the cobblestone brick wall beside the door, Tom’s arms caging you in with no escape.

“So defensive, I’ve always liked that about you” Tom smirked, his hands dragging down the sleeves of your dress until the entire garment pooled around your ankles. You went to hide, but Tom pressed his body against yours and kissed you fiercely, his hands stroking the sides of your corset as you gripped onto his shoulders.

“Oh yeah? What else do you like about me?” You ask sarcastically, terribly out of breath and as bashful as a young schoolgirl. Your words sounded unsure, insecure almost. Tom could practically taste the nerves running through your system.

“Enough talking” He glares, clearly his patience was running thin. You knew he didn’t mean anything serious by his stern tone, it was negotiated from the start this would happen. Maybe he was just as desperate as you were.

You helped Tom remove his shirt, peeling it over his head and throwing it on the floor, discarded and ignored. His lips were on you once more, his hands fumbling with the laces of your corset as he slid his knee between your legs.

“So soft,” He whispers against your skin, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you forward on his thigh, his thumb skimming over the wound on your leg from the week prior. His eyes flashed with something primal for a second, as if he reminisced the taste of iron on his tongue from your bloody hands.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Tom asks quietly as his tongue licks over your pulse, his hands finally untangling the threads to your corset and setting your lungs free from construction. You breathed out with relief, but suddenly you felt so exposed.

“No, Merlin no, you’re doing quite the opposite” You smile bashfully, trying to hide your nerves as you placed your hands on his bare chest. You could feel his heartbeat, it was racing just as much as yours. He was nervous too, if not more, but he was excellent at hiding it.

“Then, I assume you wouldn’t mind me taking this to the bed?” Tom leaned back, looking into your eyes with a boyish glimmer you’d never seen before. No one had seen Tom so gentle, so infuriatingly playful, but you had the privilege of experiencing all of it.

“I’m surprised we’re not there yet” You reply, trying to stifle a smirk as Tom leans into kiss you once again. As your lips press together, he guides you to the bed, kindly offered by the room of requirement, and you feel the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress.

You’re wearing nothing but a pair of sheer stockings and undergarments. Your corset has been completely removed, your torso was exposed entirely to his yearning gaze.

He pushes you onto the bed, his body hovering above yours as he moves his hand down to unbuckle his belt. He’s tantalisingly slow, unfair and cruel. You have every right to bite a sharp comment in his direction for teasing you this way, but you can’t find it in you to have an attitude in this moment.

“You’re awfully quiet, what’s happened to that girl with the wicked tongue moments ago?” Tom poked, mouthing along your collarbone as you tried not to squirm beneath him.

“You don’t enjoy my silence?” You scoff, knowing a part of Tom would’ve liked the control he had over you.

“Not really, I find myself missing your brutal comments and shameless taunts… perhaps I’ve truly broken you” Tom chuckled darkly, wrapping his lips around one of your taut nipples as you glare down at him.

“You wish,” You scoff, albeit squirming a little from the sweet pleasure provided by Tom’s lips. Tom smirked against you, playfully biting the sensitive bud.

“Yet I have you right where I want you, I could break you if I wanted” He whispered, hands finally unbuckling his belt and sliding it off in one deft movement. You kept your eyes on his, rather nervous for what’s to come, but he reassured your racing thoughts by kissing back up your heated skin, breathing against your neck in such a provocative way.

“Tell me what you want” He cooed, biting down on your neck and beginning to suck a love bite onto your skin. You suck in a sharp breath, looking at the ceiling.

“I want you to do what you did last time” You say quietly, the blood rushing to your cheeks.

“Hmm, what was that? I did a few things last time” Tom replied, pressing your hips together and grinding his crotch against yours.

“That thing with your mouth, you smug bastard” You hiss with annoyance but undeniable arousal, your legs softly shaking from the anticipation.

“That’s not very nice, is it?” Tom taunted cunningly, his body leaning back from yours as he sat back on his knees, looking down at your exposed body.

“I could just say no, give you my cock now and shut you up real good” Tom purred, his clothed erection pressing tight against your pussy. You frown, eyes a little wide from such an obscene comment, but you couldn’t deny the rush you felt from his words. Your silence made him grin, his hand moving down your stomach and eventually against the material of your panties. He caressed you softly there, just under your clit where he felt a damp spot on the lacy garment, a wicked look in his eye.

You fell completely silent, quite overcome with timidness as you shy away from his eyes, looking away and pressing your knuckles softly against your lips.

“Maybe I will give you what you want after all…” Tom whispered, a heady tone in his dark voice. His mouth latched onto your supple skin once more, tongue flicking out to taste the warmth and subtle musk of your natural scent.

He trailed a path of kisses down to your lower stomach, pressing his cheek against your thigh and smiling up at you as he lifted one of your legs over his shoulders.

“Oh I’ve missed this…” Tom groaned, his eyes flickering down to the wet patch on your panties.

You practically melt, stomach fluttering and legs shaking, when Tom suddenly kisses your clit through the material of your panties. You try to close your legs but he’s got them firmly held open, a grunt escaping his lips.

His tongue poked against the fabric, wetting it more with his saliva as he tasted the faint, familiar taste of your slick. He smirked, burying his nose into the fabric and softly inhaling the scent, his own hips bucking in response.

You can do nothing but lie there and take it, your body trembling and your eyes glazed over with intense arousal as you grip tightly onto the sheets.

“Tom, please-“

“Shh… none of that now, darling” Tom cooed, his voice muffled against the fabric of your panties as he grasped your legs and pulled you closer, your legs over his shoulders.

You whine breathlessly, chest heaving softly as you feel your legs tremor slightly, hips gently jutting in response to his obscene display of arousal. But to a certain extent, you couldn’t deny Tom’s desperation, he’d been denied this for long enough, and Tom was never denied. He’ll have you, one way or another.

He hooked his fingers around the hem of your panties and pulled them clean off, throwing them to the side. Now, you were only clad in your stockings, cunt exposed to his predatory gaze. You felt so small.

You utter another soft gasp as he kisses the insides of your thighs, his breath hot. Then, as if the string of tension finally snapped, Tom pressed a soft kiss to your clit and practically groaned. His tongue followed shortly after, tasting the wetness of your arousal that had his mind spinning in seconds.

Tom let go of all inhibitions and let loose his control, lapping and sucking at your cunt as if it was his life source. You struggle to breathe properly, heart racing as your eyes roll back, sounds of ecstasy slipping through your swollen lips.

Suddenly the room feels like it’s spinning, you lace your fingers through his black curls and tug helplessly, earning a deep grunt from him as he moved his fingers from your thigh to your slick entrance.

He picks you apart so quickly it’s unfair, you gasp for breath and feel your sight get blurry when he slides his fingers into you and curls against that gorgeously sensitive spot inside you, the one that has your toes curling. Your moans and whines echo around the room, pure music to Tom’s ears as he starts pumping his fingers inside you, coating them with your wetness. He’s eager to make you cum, but a cruel part of him wants to keep you on edge. Until he can give you his cock and make you feel even better.

“Tom…!” You mewl, hips gently jutting against his mouth, sweet pleasure tearing through your body.

“That’s it” He whispered in a hoarse tone, his lips and chin coated with the essence of your arousal. The look in his eyes made you shiver, a cocktail of pure hunger and craving.

Tom laces his fingers with yours and holds your hand to your lower stomach, just as his tongue curls harder against you and your legs shake badly. His flash of tenderness only makes this moment more addictive.

You pant and whine like a mutt in heat, trembling beneath him and doing your absolute best not cum early. It’s hard, Tom knows this, and he makes it his goal to make this even worse for you.

“Come on sweetheart…” He whispers against your clit, his tongue continuing its cruel assault. Your legs involuntarily shake, your breaths are raspy and uncontrollable.

Soon, that gorgeous pressure in your stomach finally snaps, causing you to cry out with ecstasy. Your gummy walls clench around his slender fingers as he curls them, coaxing every drop of release from you. Your hand fists his hair, but he doesn’t feel pain. He only feels you.

“I can’t-“ You sob, flinching away from his touch as his fingers continue moving inside you. He’s an insistent, selfish glutton.

He removes his fingers, replacing them with his tongue that laps unforgivingly at your slick cunt. You feel like you want to scream, the pressure and pleasure like nothing you’ve felt before. Somehow he’s gotten better, or perhaps worse, since the incident in the infirmary.

He hums against you before pulling away, his face flushed and his breathing slightly laboured. With struggle, you open your eyes and gaze at him with a weak stare, your hands still holding his.

“Beautiful,” he whispers softly, leaning down to kiss you with his slick stained lips. You kiss him slowly and deeply, tasting your release on his wicked tongue.

You can faintly hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, but he doesn’t break his focus at kissing you. He practically shoves you back onto the bed when you chase after his lips, unbuttoning his trousers and tugging them down as he struggled to control his rapid breathing.

“Maddening woman,” He grunts with lustful frustration, eyes dark with desire and want.

“You’ve plagued my every thought for the past week, heard your sweet sounds in my dreams” He huffs, his lips and teeth latching onto your jugular as he pushed your legs apart. You trembled, stuttering over unspoken words as his short nails dug into the meat of your thighs, sure to leave bruising.

“Last chance to say no” he pants, looking into your eyes with sincerity.

“Merlin Tom, get your bloody trousers off” you hiss, fire in your eyes as you looked up to meet his heady gaze.

“Impatient,” he tutted, but did as you asked in the same breath. He pulled his trousers down, removing his boxer briefs as well which left him bare before you. His cock exposed, adorned by a thick batch of curls.

“Spoiled,” Tom mumbles, offering a few languid pumps to his hardened cock.

“I’d call you a brat but you’d probably enjoy that” He huffs, leaning forward and pressing the tip between your slick folds. But he doesn’t push in, not yet, instead he pays some attention to your chest and litters a few bite marks and hickeys, gently grinding his cock against you, slathering himself.

“Can I…?” He groans against your collarbone, kissing it softly as he lines himself up.

“Please” You plead wantonly, fighting the urge to push your hips towards him. Your body was on fire, it only burned brighter as you felt him push forward slowly, his tip pushing past that slick barrier, sinking into the warmth of your body.

He lets out a ragged groan against your skin, his teeth pinching at the skin of your neck we he held one of your legs further up on his waist, pushing deeper until he hit base.

The two of you shuddered at the feeling, knowing there was no going back now.

“Merlin-“ you cuss silently, your first time done with the quick thrust of Tom’s hips, your thighs trembling. It didn’t hurt, not when he looked after you so, so well before. You only wanted more.

“Take me, please” you whisper with a concept of modesty, although you physically had none left in this space of ecstasy.

He pushed his hips against yours in a sinfully lazy rhythm, just enough movement for you to go hazy eyed and mushy on the inside. You squeaked and grunted but you both knew it wasn’t enough. He knew it wasn’t enough, but he knew it was necessary for what’s to come.

Tom let out a low rumble, a noise that could pass as a moan, as he closed his eyes and his brow gently furrowed, feeling your warmth around him. The single most addictive and comforting thing he’s felt.

He kissed you, soft and sweet, his breaths growing shallow as his hips gently picked up the pace. Your legs shuddered by his hips, toes curled, lips desperately trying to keep up with his.

“Tom,” you whine, almost like a pathetic plea, your forehead pressed against his.

“I know,” he grunted, pushing his hips intensely against yours, as if to see how deep he could go. He let out a strangled sigh, his black curls now disheveled as his head dropped to your neck, his teeth latching onto your skin, sucking a gentle mark as his hips started moving faster.

You gasped and threaded your fingers through his hair, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs to keep you where he needs you. Where he begs you to stay.

The room slowly plumes with sounds of gentle skin slapping and lewd sounds from the both of you, the air heady with desire and need. You cling to him like he’s all you’ve got, your head feeling airy as his hips slam into yours. You choke on your own sounds, sinking your teeth into his pale shoulder to muffle the loud cries your lungs were begging to let out.

Tom’s hand curls around your neck, pushing you away from his neck, leaning back to look you in the eyes.

“Not a chance” he huffs, hooking an arm under your leg and bringing it up to his shoulder, stretching you out to achieve an even deeper angle. You cry out softly, his hand is loose around your neck, but it doesn’t leave. He needs to see you like this, to satisfy the need he’s had for you, for weeks.

The sounds coming from between your physical union are obscene, your walls clenching around him as your body craves for release.

“Please-“ you gasp as his hand tightens on your neck, his black eyes flashing as he hears you.

“What is it, darling?” He coos, although maintaining his pace, his other hand keeping your leg firmly around his waist.

“Faster” you manage out, eyes gentle and bleary, hands shaky as you wrapped one around his wrist. His eyes sharpened, his lips curling into a smile.

“Anything for you” he whispers, wetly kissing your jaw, his hips offering a rough thrust before he slowly picked up the pace by the second.

Your nails dragged down his shoulder blades as you whimpered his name and kissed his skin hungrily, sweat on your skins, eyes glassy, heat rising, rising, and rising.

It went this way for a while, with sinful cries and whines echoing around the room of requirement. He had you right where he wanted you, but he knew you wanted the same. You were perfect, so entirely his.

You struggle to realize how much time is going by, with every movement of his hips and yours. With every heated kiss, every dig of his fingertips and nails, every bite of his teeth, he had you falling harder and harder. In love? You weren’t sure.

All you knew was that he was yours now, and you were his, and this strange connection you had… it was exhilarating.

The night swirled into a hurricane of passion, need, and relief. He didn’t care, or know, about anything other than you in that moment. All he knew was his need for you, the way his voice gasped your name as his hips stuttered, a groan ripping from his throat as he reached the peak of his ecstasy. He kissed you so fiercely you almost became light headed all over again, your arms wrapping around him. You felt the warmth of his release on your stomach, your heart racing and your legs still trembling as you pulled back and watched him with a fixated gaze.

His breathing was labored, just like yours, but he managed the most rugged smile even in a moment of pure ecstasy and content.

“Still hate me?” He smirked. You rolled your eyes.

“With all my heart” You huffed, causing him to laugh quietly, resting his head against your chest, his body slumped on yours. You twirled your fingers through his hair, his eyes lulling shut as he heard the rhythm of your rapidly beating heart.

“Good” He smiled against your skin, just as the candle in the room finally went out.

Taglist: @nika-sophie05 @aotsuki-sasaki @countryandsweetbabygirl @pretentiousprecious @snarky-mans-gf @b4b3tte @belle643 @222-luna @nishinoyastoes @sassyeducationwritingcookie @iwritetragediesandsins @jade-spellmourn @annaisabookworm @jxydennn @mslovvette @littlekohai77 @livsteaparty @justaloserxx @loveforlee444 @abeltownshipslittlebitch @gingersnaps-obsessed12 @athenalive @v0relino @st6rrrs @lillywise-the-dancing-clown @moonlightfenrir13 @endingwithsong @turnip-milk @nenenenely @sierraluebbe @folksriddle @everysage @scarletchase1989 @spac3-c0uch @hedwigprewett12 @cydonianbutterfly @skychildteyvat @walldemons @hopebaker @mwahbella @bangchans-babygirl @maddie-jayne @sydinthecity @colorfulgardenerduck @mariahossain @https-tia @tropicalkiwi26 @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @lvskaulitzbt @red-lint

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#x reader #harry potter x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle smut #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction

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bellaveux · 2 years ago

Text

BETWEEN THE PAGES | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

genre: college au! fluff, smut

summary: professor maximoff asks you out on a date.

content warnings: MINORS DNI! fluff, smut, college au!, unspecified age gap, professor!wanda, student!reader, bit of alcohol consumption, smut; service top!wanda, power bottom!reader kinda, making out, marking, fingering and oral (r! receiving), overstimulation, little bit of a praise kink

word count: 9.5k

note: i’ve been meaning to write another professor!wanda and black cat!reader fic so wrote this as kind of a prequel to AFTER CLASS but it’s long overdue lol. i hope u like it!

You always came to class early. That was the first thing she noticed about you. But, there was something about the way you entered her lecture hall for the first time, sitting just a few rows away from her desk, close enough for her to see you without anyone getting in the way. It was something about you that was so endearing. She just couldn’t figure out what exactly it was about you that made her stomach flutter and her heart beat faster than it typically does. Usually dressed in a skirt that gracefully swayed with each step and a cozy sweater that hugged your figure, you never failed to greet her with a shy smile each day you entered the room, and each time she swooned. Too cute. It was like that for the first few months: watching the door patiently to see when you would walk in, stealing glances your way when you were seated in front of her as she taught, or occasionally looking over the book she was reading while you were taking a test, reading a book, or working on notes. She couldn’t help it. It also didn’t help that you were not only beautiful but smart, too. Every test, assignment, and project she had given out, you nailed them with ease, almost like you'd already mastered the subject prior to her teachings. Perfect was what you were. She thought about it every day.

As each day passed, Wanda always looked forward to the days when you would enter her class. And she wasn’t trying to be a creep about it in any way, but she couldn’t help but look… and wonder. She wondered about what you were like outside of her class, if you were just as reserved and quiet as you were in here or if you were bubbly and talked a lot, and what your voice sounded like. You were quiet. And it wasn’t a quality that she didn’t like at all; in fact, it only made her more intrigued, like you were a mystery that she wanted to solve. In the quiet moments, when the world slowed down, her thoughts would invariably drift to you—your earnest gaze, your subtle smiles, the way your eyes seemed to light up the room.

But despite the elation of her thoughts of you, she makes sure to remind herself why you were here in the first place: you were her student. And for your professor to have such thoughts about one of her students, it was wrong. She knew this from the beginning. But try as she might to suppress her emotions, Wanda found herself captivated by your presence anyway.

And she really tried, to be fair. She tried to ignore her thoughts of you in her head, but she could only do so much. In the end, she couldn’t resist asking you to meet her after class during her office hours. She’d try multiple times to find the most credible excuse to get you to stay, and usually, she’d opt for subjects regarding your work and even ask you if you were interested in being a teacher’s assistant. Who in their right mind would decline that offer? You’d get paid on top of being alone in the same room with your favorite professor—the, despite her intimidating looks, easygoing professor that you had been fond of since day one. In fact, everyone liked her. Most of the students thought she was hot anyway, which you had to agree on as well.

The work she had you do was simple, for the most part. Grading papers and organizing paperwork and files for her were the most common tasks she gave you. Eventually she had you read a few essays and reports, asking you to judge how well they were written. Wanda thought of it as a learning experience—to read, collect your thoughts, elaborate, and then discuss with you on that same subject. It was a little nerve-racking, to say the least, but really, you enjoyed every second you spent with this professor. Especially since she was so nice to you.

And you’d be lying if you said you had never noticed her lingering eyes on you on several occasions. Sometimes she stands behind your seat and leans over to see your assignments, and you can smell her sweet perfume and feel her breath against the top of your head. Then, you’d be lying a second time if you said it didn’t make your stomach flutter each time she got close to you.

Of course, with the quiet moments you shared together each week, you began to notice some things you'd never noticed before: how she's unable to get to work without a hot cup of tea using that old, faded, and chipped mug that the university gave her a couple years ago, how she spends an extra few minutes in her office at the end of each day because she always misplaces her ID card, or how she constantly has her nose stuck in a book—a poetry book you’d often see, when she wasn’t reading those one of those meaty, mind-bending volumes.

And as time went by, you also began to notice more and more the way she would look at you. It wasn’t as if you were completely oblivious to her stares. You could see clearly when her eyes would linger a little longer than necessary, occasionally catching the flicker of a smile that your professor seemed to suppress. It was as if you had developed a sixth sense for each time her demeanor shifted or her eyes would trace over you, just as she was doing now.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" You say, your voice coming out smoothly, cutting through the quietness that filled the room.

"Yes, I’m fine." Wanda cleared her throat and turned away from you, her eyes darting back to the book she was supposedly reading. "It’s, um... I’m just lost in my thoughts."

"Lost in your thoughts or lost in trying not to stare too obviously?"

Your professor’s eyebrows twitched upwards, your question pinking her cheeks as she turned the page of her book mindlessly while attempting to hide her smile. "I assure you, (Y/n). This book is… intense."

"Intense?" You rolled your eyes, not entirely convinced by her excuse, as your eyes traced the cover of her book. "Hmmm, The Book of Nature… William Wordsworth?"

Wanda skimmed through the pages of her book and cleared her throat for the second time, "It's a deep exploration of... um, philosophical concepts. Quite thought-provoking, really."

"Philosophical concepts?" You repeated with a sly smile playing lightly at your lips. "Are you sure that’s what it’s about? If I remember correctly, Wordsworth is a poet, right? And you look pretty relaxed for someone who’s reading about some intense philosophical poetry."

"Well, I think philosophical debates can be strangely soothing sometimes," she told you with a chuckle, slowly making her way out of the nervous state she was in just a moment ago.

"Really? I mean, I love poetry, but that’s quite the intellectual balance you’ve got there."

"Yeah," she breathed, her confidence seemingly flowing from her body right in front of your eyes as she used a finger to adjust the collar of her button-up. "And speaking of balance, how do you manage to keep your work in check while being so captivatingly distracting?"

The blush that paints your cheeks presents itself much more quickly than you could’ve imagined. It was adorable. Managing to turn away from her this time, you avoid her eyes as yours land back down on the papers that were set in front of you, completely forgotten while being under your professor’s gaze. You could practically feel the smile on her face as she watched your every movement. Wanda pulled her office chair closer to yours, where you had brought an extra chair up to her desk as you worked. She set her book down softly, mindlessly leaning in closer and closer to your face as her eyes kept darting between your eyes and those delicious-looking lips of yours. Her tongue dragged itself along the bottom of her lip subconsciously as she stared at you, not even hiding her intentions this time.

"You make it awfully hard to concentrate, (Y/n)," she continued as her eyes traced over the contours of your face, down to the skin of your neck as it strained slightly underneath the collar of your sweater. "I find it rather difficult to stay focused when you’re sitting in front of me."

"Um, Professor… I think we should…" With a flustered smile and stern eyes, you motioned over to the clock right by the door, notifying her that her time with you was nearly up.

Wanda only smiled before speaking again, nodding her head as she leaned back slowly to glance over to check the time, "Of course. Do carry on with your student duties, Miss (L/n)."

To be honest, it’s the first time she has heard you talk so much. Your voice was delicate and smooth, a voice that she wanted to keep hearing over and over again. Talking to you was something she wanted more of. She was quite smug, thinking about how all the rest of the students who admired you for your intelligence and work ethic didn’t get to talk with you as much as she did or spend time with you as much as she did.

A triumphant warmth spread through Wanda's chest as she turned back to read her book. Successfully making you flustered had ignited a sense of giddiness she hadn't felt in a while. But, a calm smile played on her lips, a facade she effortlessly maintained to match your demeanor, masking the happiness that bubbled within her. It’s evident throughout the days, where fragments of her infatuation for you are sprinkled into every moment you spend together. In those moments, she loved everything about you—from the way you worked and focused on your tasks, to the way your voice sounded despite not talking all that much, to the way you furrowed your eyebrows when your eyes stumbled upon something that confused you, or when your lips would curve into that pretty smile she loved to see so much.

Eventually, Wanda came to terms with her feelings rather quickly, but made no move to pursue them just yet. For you to be her lover was something that was not allowed, especially in her profession. She’d also still have to tackle the subject of whether or not you harbored even the slightest similarity about whether you had the same interest as she did for you. During moments where she would sit alone in her office or at home, she’d often let her mind drift off to the thought of you and how she would treat you if she were able to call you hers. Gifts like flowers, books, or jewelry would gladly be given as attempts to make you happy. She’d give you flowers every day if it allowed her to see that smile of yours for even just one second.

The two of you spend the rest of the semester filled with mindless flirting and grading essays, projects, and assignments, all while Wanda reads most of the time, and by reading, you mean she skims over a couple pages and spends the next few minutes admiring the beauty that is you before her. And sometimes, she lets her mind wander just as her eyes do, down to the skin of your thighs underneath those black tights, wondering how it would feel to have her hands all over your legs. She wonders how you would sound, moaning her name as you give her the sweet taste of heaven. If you hadn't been so engrossed in the activity your mind was occupied with, you'd see how her eyes latch to your frame and the way her mouth waters at the sight. It takes everything in her to keep her composure and not pull you into her private office and have her way with you.

She wants to do this correctly, of course. She wants you to want it, too. Though, it may seem like you return her advances and all the rest of her flirty remarks, she wants to make sure it’s something you are sure of.

So, she asks. And she starts by giving you a gift.

"Shakespeare?" You questioned curiously, running a finger along the spine of the book as a shy smile slowly etched its way onto your face. "I didn’t really take you for a romantic, Professor."

She had given you a gift before you were able to step away so soon from her and her class room. The book—The Sonnets by William Shakespeare—rested neatly in the palm of your hand as Wanda watched you inspect it with eager curiosity. You had mentioned your love of poetry once, and with her own collection sitting in the comfort of her own home, she decided to give you one of the books that she loved so much. It was romantic and a tad bit cliché, she’d have to admit, but to make you happy just as you did for her was the only thing she wanted from this.

Wanda brought a hand up to scratch the back of her neck, her eyes darting down to the book in your hand, "Well, I-I appreciate the beauty in romance, yes."

"Thank you for this. I’ll make sure to read it over break," you say, holding the book tightly between your chest and your arm before turning to make your way out of the door. "See you next semester."

Wanda had pondered it, thinking how long the two weeks of winter break would feel with you away from her. The weekends already felt like too long of a wait before Monday came around—the first day of each week when you stepped foot in her class. She looked forward to every day because of you and loved thinking about you on the weekends, then she’d repeat it all over again. But, two weeks. Two whole weeks without seeing that pretty face of yours or hearing that quiet, pretty voice of yours—it sounded dreadful.

"(Y/n)?" She called out to you before you could step out of her empty lecture hall. "Can you stay for a bit? I have something to ask."

She asked you out to dinner in the next few minutes after going on a quite adorable ramble about her being so enamored by you that she couldn’t help but ignore her own boundaries as your professor and ask you out on a date. She was confident but, at the same time, so anxious to hear what you had to say about it. The stare you gave her after her little speech was enough to make her want to dig a hole so deep into the earth and crawl into it so that she’d never be able to see the light of embarrassment. Wanda watched as you clutched the book she gave you tightly in your arms. By this point, she was so sure you’d turn her down given how long you were taking to answer.

Of course, when you answered, she couldn’t process it correctly for the first few seconds, but as soon as she did, her eyes lit up just as brightly as the sun on a clear day. The smile she was biting back was contagious, making you roll your eyes and smile back as she fought the urge to wrap her arms around you. And for a moment, you even thought as if you could imagine a tail wagging back and forth behind her in excitement. You both agreed on next Friday night at eight in the evening, when she would pick you up, take you out to a nice restaurant, and treat you like a queen. You deserved a lovely evening out, and Wanda couldn’t wait to share it with you.

As she went about her daily tasks leading up to that Friday, an uncontainable excitement welled up within her, and she couldn't help but steal moments to envision the evening ahead, leaning back in her office chair to imagine the upcoming night with a dreamy smile on her face, the prospect of sharing dinner and conversation with you filling her mind. Her heart raced with anticipation, wondering what you’d wear on that night, wondering how even prettier you would seem so close next to her, wondering how your hand would fit in hers, and wondering if you’d let her steal a kiss or two, or maybe, if she was lucky, even more. And god, she prayed for all of the luck to be on her side for even just one night.

When Friday came, Wanda rushed home from her office at the university to get ready before she would drive to pick you up at the address you had emailed her—she forgot to ask where you lived, but before she could ask, you had emailed her your address a couple hours earlier. She smiled at the thought, being so excited for the date that she forgot to ask one of the most important questions. Wanda settled on wearing an all-black suit, one of her favorites, and made sure to smooth out every wrinkle with a precise touch, each movement revealing the anticipation bubbling beneath her calm exterior. She knew that your choice of attire was a mystery, and her all-black ensemble was a versatile canvas, ready to complement whatever you had in mind.

But, fuck, when she saw you—God, she was just in pure awe at the sight of you.

Wanda arrived a little bit early, the anticipation of your dinner date bubbling within her. She parked her car outside of your apartment building and leaned against it, one foot casually crossing over the other. She glanced at her watch, checking the time, but her heart raced with a different kind of countdown. As the moments passed, Wanda’s excitement only grew. But when you finally emerged from the building, the sight that greeted Wanda left her speechless. The dress you wore wrapped around your frame perfectly, the silky fabric resting on your soft curves, along with a daring slit that ran up your thigh, revealing a glimpse of your leg with each step you took, and it drove her absolutely crazy. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as she gazed at you; the sight of your shy smile made her heart race even faster.

Fuck, she wanted to say. And for a moment, she struggled to find her words, but not less than a second later, she managed to regain her composure, a smitten grin forming on her lips, "You look beautiful, (Y/n)."

"Thank you, Professor," you replied, smiling innocently up into her eyes in a way that drove her insane. "You’re looking pretty amazing as well."

Wanda couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at your compliment, but she was still spellbound by the stunning vision before her. She offered her arm to you and walked with you towards the car, opening the car door for you. But, she couldn't shake the image of that tantalizing slit in your dress; the glimpse of your leg driving her senses into overdrive.

Throughout the night, Wanda found it nearly impossible to tear her gaze away from that slit in your dress. The subtle but alluring glimpse of your skin had cast a spell on her, igniting a fire of desire and fascination that she struggled to contain. Each moment she spent with you, Wanda's mind wandered, and she’d stumble on her words as she spoke, all because of her thoughts returning again and again to the sight that had driven her senses wild earlier. She couldn't help but steal glances at that tantalizing slit in your dress whenever you shifted or crossed your legs, her heart racing each time her eyes traced the path upward. And every now and then, you would catch Wanda's lingering gaze, a knowing smile playing on your lips. You seemed to relish the effect your attire had on your professor, your confidence growing as the evening progressed.

The date was going splendidly, with you and Wanda engaging in lively conversations, sharing stories, and relishing each other's company. You laughed together, savored delicious meals, and exchanged meaningful glances that hinted at your growing connection. Both of you were having a great time, enjoying the chemistry and camaraderie that seemed to come so naturally. However, your dress, still with its tantalizing slit, had become a magnetic force that Wanda found impossible to resist. It was as if her mind had been spellbound, repeatedly drawn back to that alluring detail with every glance in your direction. While you spoke passionately about your love for literature and your dreams, Wanda tried her best to maintain eye contact and stay engaged in the conversation. But time and again, her gaze would wander, trailing along the path of that tempting slit.

She stared all night, wondering what it would feel like to run her fingertips against your soft skin, wondering how you’d look when you slip out of your dress slowly, wondering how you’d sound—and the precious imagery alone caused all higher brain function to abandon her.

As the night continued, Wanda couldn't help but feel overwhelming happiness. Your presence was intoxicating, and your smile was a beacon that lit up the evening. It was a feeling she had longed for—the joy of being in the company of someone who not only understood her intellectually but also stirred something deeper within her. You were perfect. So perfect. She wouldn’t have had it any other way. Wanda was proud to have even come this far with you and wondered if you’d allow her the chance to take you out for a second time. She would be glad, too. God, she prayed you’d want to.

Dinner ended sooner than both of you would have liked. Wanda found herself lost in the sight of you the whole night, wishing she could linger in the moment a little while longer. And the idea of taking you home felt like an interruption to a masterpiece still in progress. She held your hand as she walked with you slowly down the path back to her car, which was parked a few ways away for this very reason.

But there was one thing Wanda couldn’t get off of her mind as she led you inside her car and started the drive back to your apartment—your lips. She wanted so badly, more than anything, to kiss you. Those lips that had been speaking to her for the entire night—she wanted to taste them and feel them against hers. With every passing streetlight, the desire to lean over and capture your lips at every red light only grew stronger. Her heart raced, and her fingers gripped the steering wheel every time she thought about it. The desire to taste the sweetness of your lips was undeniable. Yet, she hesitated. The night had been so perfect, and she didn't want to rush things.

"Thank you for tonight, Professor," you softly as soon as the car came to a slow stop in front of your building. "I had a wonderful time."

"Well, it’s not every day I get to have dinner with someone as beautiful as you," Wanda said, turning her head to face you as her hand gripped the steering wheel.

"You really know how to lay it on thick, don't you, Professor?" You rolled your eyes, trying to fight back the laugh that almost spilled from your mouth.

Wanda grinned from ear to ear and glanced at the street in front of her for only a moment, "I mean, only when it’s the truth—"

Mid-sentence, just as Wanda spoke, you leaned in and planted a soft, sweet kiss on her cheek, maybe a tad bit close to the corner of her lips. It was a sudden, tender gesture that caught Wanda completely off guard, making her grip tighten around the gear shift of the car. Then, you gently place your soft hand on top of hers, causing her vision to go hazy with clouds of lust, devotion, and affection. You don’t miss the way her ears turned red as you pulled away from her face.

Eventually, Wanda found her voice, though it was tinged with surprise as she stammered out, "Well, that was... unexpected."

In her mind, truthfully, she wanted to ask you to do it again and again and again. Maybe she’d ask for you to kiss her lips next time, but she’d never let you go off to do anything else.

"I think you’re too much of a flatterer," you chuckled softly, your fingers gently tracing the outline of Wanda's hand on the center console. "Do you say that to all of your students, Professor?"

Still slightly stunned from the tiny kiss, Wanda turned to face you. Her usual composure had been momentarily shattered by the feeling of your lips against her skin, and she met your eyes with a genuine, heartfelt sincerity, "No… just you."

The words slipped out of her mouth, unfiltered and genuine, carrying with them the depth of her feelings. In that moment, Wanda realized that her attraction to you was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It wasn't just casual flirting with someone who she thought was pretty, as she did in the beginning; it was something deeper, something that had taken her by surprise the longer she had gotten to know you. Wanda's heart continued to race as she watched your playful expression soften, replaced by a warm and genuine smile.

"Do you want to come in, Professor?"

Wanda, still feeling the electrifying effects of the way your lips felt, faltered once more. The idea of spending more time with you was undeniably tempting, but she knew that if she continued this evening further, it would require every ounce of her self-control. Her hands ached to touch you, to run them along your waist and hips, and she longed to press her lips against yours over and over again. The dress you wore was not much help either; her eyes were always glancing down to that slit that showed off the soft skin of your leg. In her mind, a hundred affirmations echoed, each one urging her to say yes. So, she did.

You led her towards your apartment, hand in hand, walking down the softly lit halls of the building in a happy, expectant silence. Although she tried to hide it, Wanda could feel her own excitement building to an almost unbearable level. Her heart raced, and her breaths came a touch quicker as you led her to your place, the feeling of your hand in hers setting her skin on fire. When you reached the door, you fumbled for your keys with one hand, your other still firmly clasped with Wanda's. Your movements were deliberate, yet there was an undeniable excitement radiating from you, a subtle telltale sign that you, too, were looking forward to what lay ahead.

A sense of comfort washed over Wanda as she stepped inside, the atmosphere of your warm apartment enveloping her as she followed you in. She watched your hips as you walked in front of her, her cheeks and ears reddening at the sight once more. Your space was also thoughtfully decorated, exuding a lived-in charm that made it feel like home.

"I’m sorry about the mess. It’s usually tidier, I promise," you tell her, placing your bag gently on the counter in the kitchen before turning back to look at her. "I honestly wasn’t planning on inviting you in yet, but… I don’t know; I guess I couldn’t help myself."

Wanda, however, didn't seem the least bit bothered. Her warm smile remained unwavering, and she looked around with genuine appreciation. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her hands now stuffed into the pockets of her pants, coolly leaning against the wall, "No, I don’t mind it. And it’s not messy at all. It’s a lovely home."

Her eyes roamed over your cozy living room with its soft, inviting couch, adorned with a few well-placed cushions. The warm glow of dimmed lamps bathed the room in a soft, comforting light. Bookshelves lined one wall, their shelves cradling an eclectic collection of literature, each book seeming to hold a story of its own. The scent of a vanilla-scented candle lingered in the air. It was a cozy, lived-in scent that made Wanda feel instantly at ease—a reflection of you and everything you loved. And on your coffee table, amidst your own collection of books, she saw the one she had given you. It lay there, open and well-loved, with pages slightly ruffled and a bookmark placed near the end. In no way would Wanda have minded the mess at all, not when she was surrounded by the tokens of you and your life.

"I’m almost done with it," Wanda heard you say as she looked around your apartment. "The sonnets are really beautiful. I think I’m enjoying it better than his plays."

The professor raised an eyebrow at your claim, "Bold statement, (Y/n)… But I’m glad you’re enjoying it."

You smiled at her as you moved to get two glasses and a bottle of wine that you’ve been saving for special occasions, and this was definitely one of them. But when you turned to look back at Wanda, her gaze, once warm and affectionate, had intensified with desire and lust as she watched you pour the wine into the glasses. Her eyes held an unmistakable hunger, as if you were the most captivating thing in the world, and it didn't go unnoticed. Wanda's stare was so intense and filled with longing that it seemed to sear through you like a fiery caress. It made your heart race, and your breaths quickened as you tried to maintain your composure. With that look in your eye, you knew this night was about to get even more special.

"What are you thinking so hard about over there, Professor?" You asked with a smirk that made Wanda weak in her knees.

Wanda shook her head and bit her lip, her cheeks reddening at the topic of her own thoughts. She made her way towards you as you slowly lifted the wine glass to your lips. And although you were occasionally flustered by her intense gaze, you had a reputation for your own brand of composed charm. Wanda approached the counter where the wine glasses were placed, her fingers lightly caressing the stem of a glass as she lifted it herself. Her movements were fluid and sensual, drawing your attention like a moth to a flame. But this time, when she turned to face you, she found herself locked in a gaze that mirrored her own desire. Your eyes held a magnetic allure, an intensity that matched Wanda's in every way—your look was a silent challenge, a dare to see who would break first.

You brought the wineglass to your lips, and the woman in front of you watched with a heightened sense of awareness, her gaze locked onto the way your lips delicately touched the rim of the glass. Your soft and inviting lips seemed to beckon Wanda like an irresistible temptation. They glistened with the remnants of the wine, and a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. She couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to taste those lips and feel their softness against her own. She wondered how your lips would feel, how they would respond to her touch, and how you’d moan into her mouth. And she couldn’t get her mind off of it.

"Professor," you spoke, setting your glass down on the counter before stepping close in front of her. "I think… you’re thinking too much."

Wanda’s anticipation was palpable, and she held her breath as you closed the distance between the two of you, her heart pounding in her chest. As you stood so close, your breaths nearly mingling, you sensed that she was still overthinking the moment. And finally, in a bold move, your hands reached out, gently tugging on her suit jacket, pulling her even closer. The touch was electrifying, sending a shiver down her spine as your lips met hers in a deep kiss. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as your lips met hers, and she melted into the kiss with a soft groan, moaning at the sweetness of your lips that she had been waiting all night to feel.

You led her to your bedroom with your lips never leaving hers and your arm around her neck while your other hand pulled her jacket roughly off her shoulders. A laugh bubbles against your mouth as you trip over the rug on the way to your room, but Wanda catches you with a chuckle, her hands at your waist holding you against her. Your lips fit so perfectly against hers, and the taste of you on her tongue unlocked all of the desires she had been trying to keep at bay. All she could think about was you. Mere seconds have gone by when your back finally meets the soft comfort of your bed, all while Wanda explores your mouth with her tongue. She indulges herself in the taste of you and tugs desperately at your dress, just as you tried to undo her belt, albeit poorly. The gasp you let out when Wanda moved her head down to your neck, sucking, licking, and nipping at your sensitive skin, distracted you from your current task, leaving her belt loosely unbuckled.

"Mmh, Professor…" Your bedroom was painted with your needy moans and Wanda’s soft grunts as she pressed herself against you, your body pressed in between her and the mattress.

"Wanda," she murmured into your neck, leaving marks on your skin as her mouth explored. "You can call me Wanda… Please."

You smiled and ran your hand through her hair, urging her to look at you and bring her face close to yours just for you to say her name in the sultriest way that made the woman in front of you physically stutter, "Wanda."

Wanda swallows the lump in her throat, dazed as she watches your lips as you spoke out her name. She parted her lips, unaware of the hazy look in her eyes as she stared at you. Dragging her tongue over her bottom lip, she subconsciously leaned in to press another kiss to your sweet mouth, but you cupped her face with a soft yet commanding touch before she could close the distance. Wanda's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing as your gentle fingers caressed her skin. She felt a shiver run down her spine as your touch lingered, trailing slowly from her face, down her neck, and over her collarbone. Your hands moved with deliberate tenderness, unbuttoning the rest of her shirt one button at a time.

And she could only watch; her eyes locked onto your hands as if they were the most mesmerizing thing in the world. Your movements were slow, each button releasing its hold on the fabric with a soft, tantalizing pop. Wanda, lost in the sensations of your touch, was in a daze once again. Her eyes remained fixed on your hands, watching as they worked their way down, unbuttoning her shirt one by one. Your fingers brushed against her skin, leaving a trail of warmth and desire in their wake. With the last button undone, you gently slid Wanda's shirt off her shoulders, and it slipped down her arms, a whisper of fabric gliding to the floor. You couldn’t help but smile at her, hovering over you with a black bra on, her pants unbuckled, and her hair tousled from all of the making out. God, was she beautiful.

And Wanda thought the same thing about you, if not more. You still had your dress on, and the way you spread your legs a bit so she could settle comfortably on top of you did nothing but make her feral. Wanda’s mouth practically watered at the sight of your exposed skin. With a gentle and curious hand, her fingers danced along the skin of your leg, slipping under that same tantalizing slit that had been teasing her the whole night. She kissed your chest as she did so, but with the way you were squirming underneath her, Wanda couldn’t get the thought of your hot, naked, trampling body out of her head. And she could feel it—fuck, that lacy underwear you were wearing—as if you had planned this all along. It was driving her absolutely insane.

"You can take my clothes off for me," you whispered lowly into her ear, and for a moment, Wanda froze at your words.

Soon enough, her hands started pulling roughly at every piece of fabric she could get her hands on. She needed to see you. She was going to lose it if she didn’t see you. And despite how rough her hands were, Wanda carefully slipped the dress off of your body, undoing its zipper in a way you almost didn’t notice. But all caution was thrown out the window when Wanda finally laid eyes on your half-naked body. It was black lace underwear that you were sporting, and all she could think about was how stunning you looked. She sat there for a while, frozen and heated, her eyes raking over every inch of your body. To think that you were wearing this underneath that goddamn dress this whole time, god, it makes her absolutely exasperated with desire.

"I’m getting a bit cold here, Professor," you smirk, your fingers trailing up her pants, finally meeting her undone belt once again. "Warm me up a little?"

"Yes ma’am," Wanda breathed out and nodded, her hand ghosting over your skin once more as you opened your arms and urged her to come closer—the sight causing her to melt and a question she didn’t even think twice about spilling from her mouth. "Can I fuck you? Please?"

Almost immediately, Wanda leaned down and pressed her face against your body, littering soft and hot kisses along your stomach, up the valley of your breasts, your collarbones, and to your neck. She would lick, suck, and kiss all over again, marking your skin with the prettiest bruises. You almost forget to answer her question when she starts kissing you, but she pleaded once more. To let her do whatever she wanted, just say the word, and she’ll make sure to make you feel so fucking good.

"Please," she begged you, whining only slightly as she kissed your neck. "Please, (Y/n). Please—I'll do anything, I—"

"Touch me there," you said, slipping your hand into hers to lead it down to your warm, clothed center. "Right there, Wanda."

You let her fingers press against the fabric, feeling how undeniably soaked you were. Without a second thought, Wanda immediately circles your clothed pussy with the pads of her fingers, just getting lost in the feeling of your wet heat. Her jaw slowly drops as she watches her own fingers play with your cunt. She pressed even harder the moment she finds your clit underneath the thin fabric and when you moaned, arching your back slightly in the process, she lost all self-control. You don’t even get a second to catch your breath as Wanda immediately starts clawing at your underwear, pulling your bra off of your chest in the quickest way possible. And, when she moved her hands back to your panties to uncover the very treasure she was yearning for, you suddenly heard an unmistakable sound—the sound of fabric tearing.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as Wanda stared at the torn piece of underwear in her hands, "Did you just—"

"I’m sorry." Then she kissed you to give you something else to think about other than the fact that she just ripped your precious, laced underwear.

"You ripped—"

She kissed you again, murmuring against your lips, "I’m sorry, baby."

"That was expensive, you know. I just got it last week," you said, rolling your eyes, wrapping your arms around her neck as she continued to kiss your skin all over again. And it was working—when you felt her lips kissing you and sucking on you, you could barely think about anything else.

The corner of Wanda’s lips turned upward at the thought of you buying lingerie just for her, "I said, I’m sorry. I’ll get you another one, I promise… But, right now, I really want to fuck you. I want to fuck you until you can't move. Let me make you feel better, baby? Please."

Wanda's plea hung in the air, her voice a desperate whisper filled with desire. When she turned to look back at you, she did so with an intensity that made your heart race even faster. Already blushing from the heat of the moment, you felt your cheeks grow even hotter and hotter. Your gaze locked onto Wanda's lidded eyes, and you could see clear as day the raw need inside of them.

Your lips parted, and a deep, crimson blush spread across your cheeks. With a soft voice, almost breathless, you finally gave in, "You’re lucky I like you, Professor."

You were going to say more, but you couldn’t help the gasp that fell from your lips when Wanda dips two fingers into your pussy without any warning. She could feel you tense up around her waist, and your hands moved to grip her biceps as she started pumping into you at a slow pace, easing her way up to a faster one. Wanda’s jaw dropped once again, moaning as she felt just how tight, warm, and wet you were around her fingers. She could feel every sliver of you, your spongy walls wrapping around her digits, and you gasping right into her ear. God, it was so perfect. You are so perfect. She could fuck you like this forever.

"Does that feel good?" she asked, looking up at you with lidded eyes while her fingers continued to make their way in and out, in and out.

"Yes, right there," you nod quickly, moaning in her ear as your grip on her arms got tighter, trying to hold on for dear life as Wanda gradually got faster and faster. "You feel so good inside of me, Wanda. So good—ah!"

The woman reveled in your praise, unable to hold back her own moans as she watched her fingers, glistening with your slick, sink deeper and deeper.

"You’re sucking my fingers in, baby." And you truly were. Her fingers are buried deep in your pussy, and almost immediately, she finds that weak, spongy spot inside of you and begins to torture that button. With your moans getting pounder and louder, she penetrates deep against it, groaning into your neck as she listens to the music of your moans and whimpers.

After a moment of getting lost in the heavenly sounds that were spilling from your mouth, Wanda pulls your leg over to your chest, pumping her fingers in and out at a much faster pace than before. With her digits accelerating in speed, your body jolts and your moans go up an octave as Wanda continued to fuck her fingers into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling her press against that sweet spot inside your pussy over and over again, building up to the climax she had been working diligently to witness. And finally, the band holding you together finally breaks, your body succumbing to one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had in your life. Wetness pools all over her hand, and your pussy clenches tightly around her fingers. Wanda melts at the sight of your trembling body and shaky legs as your hands grip onto her biceps even harder, trying to hold on as she helped you ride out your climax.

When you calmed down, legs trembling against her, Wanda carefully pulled her fingers out of you with a squelch. She stared down in awe at your wetness, glistening all over her fingers and dripping down her hand. With her lips parted and eyes glued, you could not help but smile as you were catching your breath, still a bit hazy from the orgasm she had just given you. When you felt like the professor was taking a bit longer than expected, you reached down and gently brought her hand close to your face, her eyes following as you did so. And when you opened your mouth, you dragged your tongue slowly over the length of her fingers, and all Wanda had the strength to do was watch.

"Fuck," Wanda breathed out as you licked her hand clean of your essence.

You pulled Wanda in by the neck to kiss her, and she groaned into your mouth when she tasted your juices on your tongue—the taste of how good she made you feel. After pulling away to catch your breath once more, Wanda made her way back down again, leaving kisses along your skin as she traveled to the heavenly space between your gorgeous legs. And with mere inches away, she could smell you, smell the taste of you, and it lingered on her tongue, only making her yearn for more. The scent of you floods her senses, and she leans in with lidded eyes, lost in the thought of having you come right into her mouth. God, she wanted it—she needed it.

She was so close—her mouth was so close. You were right there, all ready in her mind for the grand meal she was about to indulge herself in. And with a soft but firm hand holding her head back by her hair, you stopped her.

"Not yet," you told her, shaking your head slightly as your fingers threaded through her hair.

"What?" Wanda gives you another dazed look, confused and almost frustrated with the fact that you interrupted her on her way to a heavenly meal.

"Not yet," you repeated once again, louder and clearer, with a more demanding tone. "I want you to watch me."

With her eyebrows raising in surprise, Wanda wondered what it was you had in store for her, "Watch you?"

With a teasing smile, you took your hand off of Wanda’s head, slowly dragging your fingers against the inside of your thigh, then in between, the soft pads of your fingers meeting your clit. There was nothing else Wanda could keep her eyes on except the way you pressed softly onto your clit, with another moan slipping out. Your clit was wet and slippery, coated with your juices. You could feel her heavy breath against your pussy, just centimeters away from her face, and all Wanda could do was stare. The sound of your quiet whimpers filled her ears, and it took everything inside Wanda not to dive in, face first, into your heavenly heat.

You must’ve known. You must’ve known what you were doing; keeping her desperate and begging while also checking if she’d be good and obey. And although it was hard to keep away, Wanda followed your orders and watched. With her eyes stuck to that precious button you were torturing all by yourself, she couldn’t help but pant slightly, like an obedient dog waiting for its signal to start eating.

Soon, you were getting close all over again, and Wanda was disappointed that it was not her doing. Although your moans and whimpers were more than enough to fuel her desires, waiting to touch you almost became unbearable, but she remained still, her eyes still glued to your pretty pussy as you touched yourself.

"Let me—Let me touch you," Wanda pleaded, unable to take her eyes off of the way you were rubbing your fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. "Please, let me help."

"N-Not yet," you said again, your body writhing more and more as each second passed.

With a groan, Wanda dropped her head down against the plush, inside part of your thighs, holding you down as you chased your own high. She kept watching with her mouth open as she resisted each and every urge in her body that told her to ignore your order and just jump right in, but she held herself back. She didn’t even know how, but she knew that once you allowed her, you’d reward her with the best meal and orgasm you could ever give her.

And just as you were about to hit your peak, you let one word slip, "Now."

Wanda finally opened her mouth and let her tongue fall. Her jaw drops as she lets her tongue travel from the bottom to the top, dragging it through your folds and swirling it messily around your clit. The taste of you was as blissful as angels singing in her mouth, as if her tastebuds had been blessed by the gods themselves. Your cries and moans rested well on Wanda’s ears, doing nothing to stop her from eating you out so fervently. A pleasured groan fell from Wanda’s muffled mouth as you tugged harshly at her hair, Her breath was hot, and your pussy had you squirming beneath her. It was heaven for Wanda. God, she’d give everything if it meant being able to live the rest of her days down here, with her head between your legs and your pussy in her mouth. She’d be set for life.

Your poor clit was already so sensitive, and Wanda was lapping at you like a thirsty dog. Your precious brain couldn’t even focus anymore, and all you could think about was Wanda’s tongue. And because of how close you were just before she started, your orgasm started to build higher and higher in a matter of seconds. Her mouth showed no remorse, and the lewd noises only made you flush deeper. With her thighs squeezing her head between your thighs, Wanda devoured you, holding you still with ease despite your constant squirming. Then, she wrapped her mouth around your clit, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, until she had you screaming her name into the air as you came inside of her mouth.

And yet, she doesn’t stop.

"W-Wanda, I—"

"Not yet," she said, voice muffled as she continued to fuck you through your orgasm, her tongue swirling and licking every crevice in and out of your sex.

Your words die in your mouth, and you let out a squeal as she buries her tongue right into your pussy all over again, licking and swirling it inside of you as you whined about how it was too much for you to handle. But, she kept going anyway. And fuck, you felt incredible wrapped around her tongue; it drove Wanda insane. Your body was hot, trembling at the mercy of her touch, screaming out as Wanda continued to overstimulate you. She was now far from being gentle. How could she? When you had been teasing her all through the night with that slit in your dress and those eyes that were begging her to do something? Occasionally, she’d open her eyes to see you arching your back, screaming into the pillow, and it made Wanda moan against your pussy, the vibrations doing more to stimulate you.

With her eyes glued to your body as your legs tensed around her head and your stomach clenched as you moaned, Wanda whined and pushed herself further into you. Her hands were now spreading your folds open as she dragged her tongue up and down your fold before wrapping around your clit once more. Even when you finally gushed inside her mouth, she kept going, even with your entire body enveloped in shivers, as she savored each and every drop of your essence.

"I think–It’s too much—" you tried to say.

But, she just hit you with the same words all over again, "Not yet."

And she’d make you come a third time, then a fourth, then a fifth—until you couldn’t take it anymore. By the end of all of it, Wanda goes back up to your face, her heart racing faster as she sees your tear-stained cheeks and a lazy smile on your face as you try to look at her. She wipes them clean with her thumb and kisses them with her lips, using her other hand to calm your trembling body by running it along your quivering legs.

You reach out for her with a whimper, trying to grab hold of her, begging for her care as she soothes your body. Wanda smiles and re-kisses each bruise she left on you, all the way up until she makes it to your mouth. She kisses you softly and gently, and you can taste yourself right on her tongue. Nuzzling your face into her neck, Wanda pulls your body to lay on top of her, securing a tight and comforting hold on you as you began your drift to sleep.

It’s everything Wanda could have ever wanted—to be with you. It was perfect. You were perfect.

"You did so good, Wanda," you said sleepily into her skin, muffled as you spoke. "So good for me."

"I think I should be the one saying that, (Y/n)," she replied with a proud smile as she ran her hand through your hair. Eventually, her hand rested on your cheek, soothing her thumb over your skin as you began to let your eyes flutter closed at her soothing touch. "You are… so beautiful, darling… So perfect."

You almost fall asleep after a few seconds. Her touches, the feeling of her breathing, and the way her skin felt was everything you ever wanted and more. Wanda laid there with the same thought in her head, her heart filled with an overwhelming sense of love and contentment. As she gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, she couldn't imagine a more perfect moment.

“I have something for you,” you say, voice rasp and groggy as you moved reach something from the drawer of your side table. “It’s nothing special… it’s just… you keep losing your card, so..”

You couldn't help but feel a touch of nervousness. You had spent hours searching for the perfect gift, wanting to express you affection for Wanda in a meaningful way. Yet, when you were finally about to give it to her, you couldn't help but feel a bit shy about its simplicity.

But then, Wanda's eyes lit up with curiosity as she accepted the small box and carefully opened it. Inside, she found a cute red lanyard with a playful pattern, and her heart swelled with affection. She held it delicately in her hands, her fingers gently tracing the tiny pattern that adorned the fabric. It was a simple yet thoughtful gift, and she couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for you for choosing it.

Your shyness melted away, replaced by a radiant smile, as you watched Wanda’s joy. You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth, knowing that your gift had brought a smile to the professor’s face.

Wanda turned towards you, her eyes soft with emotion and her heart full. She reached out and gently cupped your cheek with her hand, her thumb tenderly brushing against your skin. With a sweet and sincere smile, Wanda leaned in slowly, her lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. Your lips met like two puzzle pieces finally fitting together, and for that moment, the world seemed to fade away.

“It’s perfect,” Wanda says, unable to suppress the way her lips curved upward. “Thank you.”

Then, each day as you arrived for class, your heart couldn't help but skip a beat when you saw Wanda. What caught your attention immediately was the sight of the red lanyard that Wanda wore around her neck. It didn't matter if Wanda's outfit matched the lanyard or not; it was always there, a constant presence, and a sweet reminder of the thoughtful gift you had given her. On some days, it stood out vividly against Wanda's attire, a burst of color that added charm to her ensemble. On others, it contrasted playfully, a delightful pop of red against more subdued colors. But in any case, it was always there.

Over the next few weeks, You and Wanda found yourselves in a whirlwind of newfound affection and stolen moments. In the classroom, your glances became a language of your own. Wanda would catch your eye from across the room, and a playful yet affectionate smile would curve both yours and her lips. It was as if you shared an inside joke, one that no one else in the class could comprehend. As the days went by, their desire for each other grew. They were days off of stolen kisses, lingering glances, and shared smiles that only you could fully understand.

One day, in the middle of a lecture, Wanda couldn't resist the urge any longer. She discreetly slipped out of her seat and gently tugged at your hand, pulling you slightly behind and into a closet at the back of the room, out of sight from her classmates' curious eyes. With a mischievous smile and a twinkle in her eye, Wanda leaned in and pressed her lips against yours. It was soft and tender, a tantalizing taste of their affection that left both of you breathless. The classroom continued with the lecture, seemingly oblivious to the hidden exchange.

Yet, for Wanda, those stolen kisses were like sweet secrets shared only between the two of you.

— navigation!

#bellaveux writes!#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen #marvel #avengers x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader

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ghqstwriter · 2 months ago

Text

“Something’s troubling you.”

When Villain spoke, it was usually with a tone filled with snark at best and malice at worst. However, when they addressed Hero, their voice was nothing but soft. Loving, if one could call what the pair had between them love. Hero would usually smile warmly any time they heard their partner speak to them with such a tone, yet today, Villain was right; something really was troubling them.

There was no point denying it, the evidence was stacked against them. Hero had been gritting their teeth the whole day, and when they had stepped into the room moments earlier, their fingers had jolted straight to their temples in an instant, reflexes already getting used to the pain. Hero let out a small groan, to which Villain wordlessly beckoned them over to the sofa they had been sprawled upon. They obliged, hardly able to keep upright until reaching the seat.

“Is our city’s golden saviour tired, perhaps?” Villain mused. The city’s golden saviour. When the criminal had first used that nickname, it was mocking, dripping with hatred and scorn. It seems it had stuck, even ‘til now, although the bitterness had been washed away, and replaced with a sense of playfulness reserved for those who know you dearly.

“My head’s been killing me, lately. Medic checked me for concussions and head injuries in general, but they think it’s just another stupid headache,” Hero whined, words slurring together slightly. They pressed the palms of their lightly scarred hands over their eyes as they pushed their head further back into the settee. It felt as though even though the darkness was too bright for them. Headaches had plagued them for years, starting up during the first of many academic-related late nights. Yet, now, they had become consistent, and far more inconveniencing.

Villain looked at them kindly. They were probably more than familiar with this kind of ache creeping across their skull, the hero considered silently. The pair were known for contrasting each other in many ways, but one thing they had in common was the lengths they would push themselves too in order to reach their goals. Ambitious to a fault, the both of them.

Instead of speaking up, Villain simply patted their thigh gently, an invitation. Although the two had only been officially dating for a week or so now, Hero had swiftly picked up on how keen their new partner was regarding touch. Specifically, they were gentle, often leaning against the hero’s shoulder or arm when seated next to them, or opting to hold their hand when in public. They hadn’t expected them to be so attached, especially this early on, but it was hardly something Hero loathed. So, they shuffled over, manouvering their body so that they were lying directly in their partner’s lap, gazing upwards. Had their eyelashes always been so long?

The villain’s hand was quick, finding its way into Hero’s hair as though it were a compass in search of North. Their fingers were gentle with Hero’s scalp, tenderly massaging it just as one would stroke a cat lovingly curled up on your lap. Hero could almost purr in response. The tension in their head felt like it was easing, and the throbbing became milder and milder. If Villain kept this up, they wouldn’t be awake for much longer. Who would have thought they could be soothed so easily? Definitely not the hero, who was humming softly in the criminal’s lap. Villain had always had a knack for seeing things in them that the hero couldn’t even spot in the mirror.

Softly, Hero reached upwards, cupping the villain’s cheek with their warm palm and absent-mindedly brushed their thumb across their lover’s jaw, settling just beneath the lips. The pair had once kissed twice thus far. The first was fiery and passionate, the result of desperation turned into aggressiveness. Their lips had met in a wordless competition, convincing the other to melt under their touch and stay out of harm’s way. Then, the second time was a confirmation. Proof from one devotee to the other that what they had shared the other night was real and that yes, I do love you dearly. The anguish, however, had still lingered, clinging onto Hero’s wet cheeks and Villain’s pounding heart.

As the hero inched closer, their free hand interlocking with the villain’s, which had previously been resting on Hero’s hip, Villain could no longer keep themself away from their beloved’s lips. This time, this third unspoken promise, was light, and domestic. Their faces brushed against one another, and despite the persistent throbbing of their head, Hero grinned as though there was nothing wrong. How could something be wrong whilst they were in the arms of the one they adored, safe.

Usually, whenever Hero woke up disoriented, head pounding as though they had made direct contact with concrete, it was impossible to distract themself from the dull pain. Now, as they deepened the kiss, they realised that their mind was only focused on one beautiful thing.

#sorry this is a little shorter than usual #i have also been banished to headache land #but at least that means i can make the characters suffer about it #asks are open and always appreciated #hero pov #hero x villain #villain x hero #writeblr #writing #writing snippet #heroes and villains #sickfic

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art-missy · 9 months ago

Text

There were days when you felt unattainable, when you felt like nothing could surprise you. Today was definitely not one of these days. Your jaw dropped at Yoru sudden but simple request :

"Kiss me."

Well, it was technically more of a command than a request but your brain was lagging too much by its sudden abruptness to notice. After a few seconds, your brain activity started again and you noticed the silence in the common room that followed his request—command. There was a certain determination in his eyes that you did not miss as well as the tension in his posture and his clenched jaw. His ego was hurt.

"Yoru," you sighed. "Ryo, my spiky blue rift-walking grumpy cat... what happened ?"

You face slowly turned towards Jett as your question left your lips. Your eyes narrowed on her as she avoided eye contact. Your gaze then fell on Phoenix who nervously looked away. What did these two do ? A bet ? Something that clearly hurt him, which led his ego to intervene in order to protect his heart.

"Or let me kiss you," he added, his eyes not leaving you.

Your gaze looked back at him as he took a step closer. He wanted a kiss. In front of the other agents. A kiss ? He hated PDA, something was fishy.

"Please ?"

Now that was even more fishy. He usually asked 'please' with his eyes and a waiting facial expression, not vocally. Humming softly, you sent a narrowed glare at Jett and Phoenix, grabbed Yoru's wrist and dragged him in the corridor without forgetting to close the door behind you.

"Now, can you tell me what's happening ?" you asked gently.

He stayed quiet as he leaned against the wall, crossed his arms while looking away, a frown on his face. He seemed like he did his best to avoid your eyes. But you knew better. You knew he was hurt.

"Is it something Jett or Phoenix told you ?" you took a step closer. "Should I punch them ?"

Yoru sighed as he let his arms falling to his sides.

"Am I a good boyfriend ?"

Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you blinked at his sudden question.

"What ?"

"Do you think I'm a good boyfriend ?"

For the first time since you met him, you heard a crack in his usually confident voice. Despite the facade he was putting, he looked so fragile.

"You always say that I'm grumpy and that I have a big ego," his eyes still refused to meet yours. "PDA makes me uncomfortable and I'm not good at expressing my feelings vocally. Aren't you tired of me ?"

You stared silently at him. Then after a few seconds, you stepped closer and pinched his cheek.

"Silly," you said gently. "Would a bad boyfriend ask me this ?"

You pinched his other cheek and pulled him closer. He let you do it, his eyes finally landing on you.

"You are grumpy, cocky and sometimes so full of shit," you cupped his face and soothed his cheeks with your thumbs. "You also listen to me ranting, support me on anything I do, protect me during missions and show me that you care in so many ways." You gently nuzzled your nose against his and smiled softly. "Ryo, you're a man of action. What you can't say in words, you often say it through your actions and it feels so much more powerful than words... So no, I am not tired of you and I never will. Now that we're together, your grumpy ass will not get rid of me so easily."

You booped his nose and chuckled when he scrunched it. He suddenly hugged you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and you heard him muttering something in his native language. You caressed his nape then gently pinched it.

"You're insufferable, you know that ?" he huffed against your skin.

"Deal with it."

He finally released you and it was his turn to pinch your cheeks, his teasing and confident smile back on these lips that you kissed so many times.

"Ow !"

"You didn't think you would pinch me without any consequences, did you ?"

You scrunched your nose then grabbed his cheeks to gently squeeze them, making him purse his lips in a ridiculous and exaggerated way.

"I love you too."

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Instead, he just pressed a quick but loving peck on your lips. You didn't mind his silence. You will wait until he's ready to use words. You almost missed the light blush coloring his skin.

"I'll still have a serious conversation with Jett and Phoenix though," you added and Yoru only rolled his eyes, knowing that he couldn't stop you.

#valorant x reader #valorant imagines #valorant fanfiction #valorant fluff #valorant yoru #valorant yoru x reader #yoru x reader #kiritani ryo x reader #kiritani ryo #★nana is writing…#valorant fanfic

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starryeyedwolves · 20 days ago

Text

Watch Me

It started, like many things between Sirius and Remus, with a bet.

They were in the Gryffindor common room, the hour late enough that only the Marauders and a few upper-year stragglers remained. James was lazily flipping a Snitch between his fingers, Peter was attempting to teach himself how to do card tricks and failing miserably, and Sirius—well, Sirius was bored. And when Sirius Black was bored, chaos usually followed.

“I’m so bored I could kiss someone,” Sirius declared dramatically, flopping backward over the arm of the couch, his legs dangling in the air like a cat who had never heard of dignity.

Remus didn’t look up from his book. “Then go find someone to kiss. I hear the Bloody Baron’s free.”

“That’s cold, Moony,” Sirius said, mock-offended. “You wound me.”

James snorted, catching the Snitch again. “You’re always going on about kissing, Sirius. Bet you couldn’t even make Moony blush.”

Remus’ eyes flicked upward for the briefest of seconds. “Please don’t make this a thing.”

But it was already too late.

Sirius sat up like a wolf catching the scent of prey. “Is that a challenge, Prongs?”

James grinned. “Bet you a Galleon you can’t do it.”

Sirius smirked, a slow, dangerous thing. “Watch me.”

Remus sighed and snapped his book shut. “I hate all of you.”

Day One:

Remus was late to Charms the next morning. He slipped into the classroom quietly, hoping not to draw attention. He found a spot next to Sirius, who had—oddly—saved him a seat.

“Morning, sunshine,” Sirius said with a grin so wide it should have been illegal.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m always weird.”

“No, you’re intentionally weird. That’s worse.”

“Just trying to brighten your day.”

Remus eyed him suspiciously, but the class began before he could question it further. Sirius behaved unusually well—taking notes (or at least pretending to), passing Remus his quill when he dropped his own, and even whispering helpful corrections during their paired practice.

It was unnerving.

By the time class ended, Remus was thoroughly suspicious. As they walked out, Sirius leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “Nice jumper. Brings out your eyes.”

Remus blinked. “Did you just—compliment me?”

Sirius shrugged and smiled. “Is it working?”

Remus stared. “Working for what?”

Sirius only winked.

Day Two:

Remus walked into the Great Hall for breakfast and found his plate already loaded with his favorite things. The others were seated, snickering quietly.

Sirius beamed. “Made sure you got the good bacon before James devoured it all.”

Remus squinted at him. “You never serve anyone but yourself.”

“Thought I’d try something new.”

James snorted into his pumpkin juice.

Remus sat, cautiously poking at the food. “Okay, seriously, what’s going on?”

Peter coughed loudly and muttered something about “owls” and “library fines.”

Sirius leaned his chin on his hand, smiling at Remus like he hung the bloody moon. “Can’t I just appreciate you, Moony?”

Remus stared at him. “No.”

But despite himself, a blush crept up his neck. He ducked his head, pretending to butter his toast.

James kicked Sirius under the table and mouthed, one point.

Day Three:

Remus was in the library, blissfully alone, until Sirius appeared and dropped a chocolate bar onto his open book.

“Peace offering,” Sirius said.

Remus looked up. “For what?”

“For whatever crime I’m inevitably going to commit to make you blush again.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “So you admit it.”

Sirius winked. “You’re clever, Moony. But I’m determined. Also, I have chocolate.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Sirius plopped into the chair across from him and unwrapped his own chocolate. “Ridiculously charming, maybe.”

Remus huffed. “That’s debatable.”

“You’re debating it, though. That’s a start.”

Remus tried to focus on his textbook, but he could feel Sirius’ eyes on him the entire time. It wasn’t even the challenge that bothered him now—it was how convincing Sirius was. Like maybe he meant it.

Like maybe he wasn’t just trying to win a Galleon.

Day Five:

Remus was halfway through brushing his teeth when Sirius burst into the dormitory wearing nothing but a towel and his usual overconfidence.

“Morning, Moony,” he said, stretching, towel threatening to slip.

Remus did not blush.

He did, however, choke on his toothpaste.

Sirius grinned. “You alright there, mate?”

Remus spat into the sink. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Death by attractive roommate? Not a bad way to go.”

“You’re not even trying to be subtle anymore.”

“I was being subtle?” Sirius asked, genuinely surprised.

Remus glared. Sirius just laughed and sauntered off, towel swinging.

James called from behind the curtains of his bed, “That was a two-pointer, easy.”

Day Seven:

They were out by the lake, lying on the grass. It was late afternoon, the sun dipping low and the sky tinged gold. James and Peter had gone back inside, but Sirius and Remus lingered.

“I’m calling off the bet,” Remus said suddenly, not looking at him.

Sirius propped himself up on one elbow. “You’re surrendering?”

“I’m just—tired. I don’t like being messed with.”Sirius frowned. “I’m not messing with you.”

Remus finally turned his head. “Then what are you doing?”

Sirius was quiet for a long moment. “Trying to figure out if I can tell you the truth without ruining everything.”

Remus sat up. “That’s not cryptic at all.”

Sirius laughed softly. “I like you, Moony. Not just in a mate way. In a ‘bloody hell, he looks good even when he’s correcting my grammar’ way.”

Remus froze.

Sirius looked up at him, eyes more vulnerable than Remus had ever seen them. “I made the bet to hide it. Because I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same. But then I kept doing things, and you kept almost blushing, and I realized—I didn’t care about the bet anymore. I just wanted to keep making you look at me like that.”

Remus blinked. “Like what?”

“Like I’m not a total lost cause.”

Remus didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, slowly, he reached out and touched Sirius’ wrist.

“I thought you were flirting to win a Galleon,” he said. “So I tried not to blush.”

Sirius’ mouth twitched. “Tried and failed a few times.”

Remus smiled, small and shy. “I like you too, you idiot.”

And that was it. That was the thing that finally made Remus blush, right down to the tips of his ears.

Sirius saw it and grinned. “Told you I could do it.”

Remus leaned in close. “You earned that one. No bet.”

Then he kissed him, soft and sure, and Sirius forgot all about the Galleon.

The Galleon sat in the center of the Marauders’ dormitory table for two full days, untouched.

James stared at it like it might sprout legs and walk off.

“You’re not going to take it?” he asked finally.

Sirius, lying upside down on his bed, a quill dangling from his mouth, gave a distracted, “Hmm?”

“The Galleon. You won, didn’t you? Moony blushed so hard he looked like a tomato.”

Remus, from his corner, muttered, “Still here, thanks.”

Sirius rolled over, letting the quill fall to the floor. “Keep it, Prongs. You need the money more than I do.”

James narrowed his eyes. “You’re being disgustingly noble, which makes me think this is less about the bet and more about the fact that you’re dating him now.”

Remus choked on his tea. “We’re not—”

Sirius sat up. “We’re not?”

Remus gave him a look, and Sirius smiled like he’d been told Christmas was coming early.

“Oh,” James said, smirking. “So we are.”

Peter finally looked up from his magazine. “Are what?”

“Together,” James said.

“Like, snogging?”

“Like, more than snogging,” Sirius said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Remus groaned and buried his face in his book. “This is going to be unbearable, isn’t it?”

James grinned. “Unbearably adorable.”

The first few days were awkward in the way only teenage feelings could be. Sirius kept catching himself reaching for Remus’ hand in hallways. Remus kept pretending he hadn’t noticed. They sat a little closer, talked a little softer, smiled a little more.

It was like learning to walk all over again—except this time, every step risked falling face-first into each other.

And maybe that was okay.

One evening in the common room, Sirius leaned against Remus on the couch, legs thrown over his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Tell me a secret,” he said.

Remus didn’t look up from his book. “That’s not how secrets work.”

“Come on. One little Moony secret.”

Remus glanced at him. “I’ve already kissed you. Isn’t that enough vulnerability for one lifetime?”

Sirius poked his side. “Please.”

Remus sighed. “Fine. I hated you, third year.”

Sirius blinked. “What?”

“Your hair was longer than mine and shinier. I found it offensive.”

Sirius grinned. “So you have noticed my hair.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Regretting this already.”

But he didn’t move away.

The war crept closer with each headline.

But between the cracks of chaos, life still happened: Remus and Sirius walked to class side by side, fingers barely brushing. Sirius would lean in during breakfast, whispering ridiculous theories about McGonagall’s secret punk band. Remus would laugh with his whole face.

They kissed in quiet corners and behind curtains in the library, hearts racing like they were still afraid to want this, to name it. But wanting didn’t care what they were ready for. It took root anyway.

One night in the Astronomy Tower, Sirius brought a blanket and a bottle of something purloined from the kitchens.

Remus lay beside him, watching the stars. “We’re not the same boys we were in first year.”

Sirius turned to look at him. “No. We’re braver now.”

“Or dumber.”

“Or in love,” Sirius said, without fanfare.

Remus was silent for a long time.

Then: “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Sirius pulled the blankets up around both of them. “You’re the least dangerous person I know.”

Remus gave him a skeptical look. “You do realize you’re in love with a werewolf, right?”

Sirius smiled, brushing a kiss into his hair.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “And he’s in love with me too.”

Graduation came in a blur. War didn’t wait. They joined the Order. Got assignments. Saw friends fall.

But they also got each other.

James and Lily moved into Godric’s Hollow. Peter drifted.

Remus and Sirius found the flat by accident—a “To Let” sign crooked in a dusty bookshop window. Sirius insisted. Remus resisted. Then he caved, as he always did when Sirius looked at him like that.

They bought mismatched dishes. Painted one wall blue. Burnt a dozen meals. Grew a life, not despite the war, but defiantly in the middle of it.

The first time Remus says “our place”, Sirius almost drops his mug.

They're in a tiny flat two floors above a Muggle bookstore, the walls still bare, the furniture a chaotic mix of secondhand charm and whatever James and Lily could sneak past Mrs. Potter without her noticing. The place smells like dust and cloves and something that might be hope.

Sirius is sitting cross-legged on the floor, unpacking books into haphazard stacks while Remus stands by the window, shirtless, steaming tea in hand. The late-afternoon sun makes the scars on his back glow like cracks in glass.

“So,” Remus says casually, “we’ll need a charm for the front door if we’re going to keep Order files in our place.”

Sirius looks up.

“Our place.”

Remus freezes. “Did I say—?”

“Yes.”

They both go still for a moment.

Then Sirius grins.

“About damn time.”

They argued. A lot. Sirius left towels everywhere. Remus read too much and spoke too little when he was stressed. But they always found their way back to each other in the end.

Love didn’t erase the hard parts. But it anchored them.

One night, Sirius asked, "If I died tomorrow, what would you want me to know?"

Remus didn’t hesitate. "That you made everything make sense. That you are loved. Without condition."

Sirius kissed him until the words stuck.

They got missions. Dangerous ones. They came back to each other, every time.

"Bet you a Galleon we make it out," Sirius

They made it out.

The war ended the way most storms do—not all at once, but in slow, broken breaths.

Voldemort fell.

Not vanished, not destroyed, not forgotten. But gone enough that Death Eaters started hiding instead of hunting, and the Order stopped whispering at night.

Sirius and Remus returned to the flat with dirt under their nails and blood still dried at the collars of their robes. Neither said anything for a long time. They sat on the floor, backs against the kitchen cabinets, knees touching.

“Did we win?” Sirius asked eventually, voice low.

Remus let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “I think we just survived.”

The weeks that followed were strange. A blur of funerals and debriefs and the weird, guilty freedom of not having to look over your shoulder anymore.

They slept through most of it.

Remus took to waking up before Sirius just to watch him breathe. He'd sit in the window with a book, not really reading, sipping cold tea while sunlight tried to warm the hardwood floor. Sometimes Sirius would roll over and mumble something—always soft, always half-conscious—and Remus would smile into his mug.

One day, Sirius walked in from the post with a small box.

“I bought us mugs,” he said, holding them up.

One said Mr. Moony. The other said Mr. Padfoot.

Remus blinked. “Are you proposing?” Sirius grinned. “Not unless you want me to".

There was a beat. A pause. A choice.

Remus leaned against the table. "Ask me when you mean it. always mean it".

So Sirius did. That night, over burnt curry and half-drunk wine, sitting in pajama bottoms and old t-shirts.

“Marry me,” he said, holding out the same mug.

Remus took it.

They didn’t sign papers. They didn’t wear rings. They just started saying “our place” and “our bed” and “I love you” in the kinds of ways that made it clear they meant forever.

Sirius cooked breakfast. Remus made the tea. They learned to dance slowly in the kitchen, even when there was no music. Sometimes they talked about the war. Sometimes they didn’t. Healing didn’t ask for a straight line.

One night, Remus sat beside him on the fire escape, blanket around their shoulders.

"Do you think we deserve this?” he asked.

Sirius nudged their knees together. “We made it. That’s enough.”

Remus leaned his head on Sirius’ shoulder. “I used to think I wouldn’t survive this.”

That winter, snow fell thick and slow over the city. Their flat smelled like cinnamon and dust. The world was still bruised, but it was turning. They lit candles at the windows and stayed up late reading to each other. They kissed quietly, like they were still learning how.

“Bet you a Galleon,” Remus murmured one night as Sirius pulled him close in bed, “that we’ll still be here in fifty years.” Sirius laughed into his collarbone.

“Watch me.”

And he did.