#usually I think I’m single digits

[mattybsgroupie]

— homework ★ matt sturniolo

— CONTENTS: making out; oral (f receiving); handjob (m receiving); sub!matt

— NOTES: my plan was to post this during the weekend but im anxious to go back to college and i couldn’t help myself and ended up writing everything yesterday lol very nerdy subby matty receiving his first handjob ♡ as usual not proofread but hope you enjoy it lots! tysm for over 1,1K followers ♡ much much love always!

i heard three rhythmic knocks on my bedroom door and quickly got up, unlocking it and suddenly bumping into matthew, the smartest guy in my class. matt was clever, but extremely quiet - which only made him more charming. i recalled his ears turning a bright red when i asked him for help with my homework, shyness taking over him as he briefly nodded his head.

“hey!” he greeted me, offering a handshake. i touched his hand, slightly caressing his palm with my index, watching as he tried to look away. “we talked yesterday, about… some lessons? you need help with homework?”

“yes!” i happily agreed, spreading the door open. “come in matt, make yourself comfortable”

matt nodded, holding tightly to the books hidden under his arm. “is it really okay for me to be here?” he chuckled. “i mean… it’s the girls dorm”

“don’t worry about it, boys come here all the time” i winked at matt’s figure, balancing his weight from one foot to another, clearly anxious. “unless you… wanna go to the library or something?”

“no!” he eagerly answered. “i-i can teach you here. it’s okay”.

i wasn’t listening to a single world he said.

matt’s blue eyes underneath the round glasses seemed agitated, following the numbers i had previously written on my notebook. i could see matt’s lips trying to hold a smile at each wrong result, his digits tapping on the yellow pencil between his fingers.

“… so if you divide it by 100, it’s easier to find the percentage” he took me out of my trance, turning his head to stare at me with a confused expression on his face. “am i doing good? are you getting it?”

“you’re doing so good, matt” i let it slip out of my mouth without even thinking, my head resting on my hand while i admired matt’s cheeks flushing red as he gulped. “look at me” i said, raising my finger to his jaw as he tried to look away.

i could feel his breath getting heavier, lips slightly parted as he stood still, not moving an inch. i got closer to him, brushing my lips over his before sealing them together in a small kiss. matt’s hand quickly went to the back of my neck, deepening the pressure of his lips against mine. when i opened my mouth so he could slide his tongue in, matt pulled away - but not far enough, a string of saliva still connecting us to each other.

“i-i’m sorry” he looked at me, panting heavily. “i shouldn’t have done that, i’m really sorry”.

“don’t be” i cupped his cheeks in my palms, giving him a soft peck. “i want it matt, i really do”

“but” he started, eyes traveling through the room, as if he was checking if someone caught us. “i thought y-you wanted to study”

“you already taught me so much” i jokingly pouted, pretending i was tired. the more matt talked, the wetter my panties would get. “why don’t i teach you a few things?” i said, letting one of my hands rest on his thigh.

“like what?” matt asked me hesitantly, looking at how my hand caressed his covered skin. i reached closer to his crotch, accidentally brushing my digits on his half-hard cock, tenting starting to form on his pants.

i smashed our lips together once more, this time hungrier, the wet sounds of our tongues interlocking taking over my dorm. my fingers tangled on matt’s brown curls, carefully pulling his hair so i could get easier access to his neck. i unbuttoned the closed collar of his shirt, traveling down the fabric and repeating the process over and over again.

matt took his glasses off, tossing it over my study table, his hands finally coming to my waist. he didn’t have the courage to tighten his grip and i knew this was the boldest move he’d be able to make, so i grabbed matt’s wrist and brought his palm to my chest, letting him grope my covered tits.

i gasped from the sudden touch, noticing how this made made hesitant to keep kissing me. “a-are you okay?” he asked with puppy, blue eyes.

“yes, fuck- you’re being so good to me”, i sighed heavily and matt nodded eagerly, bringing his mouth to my neck, sucking onto my skin. “what got you so worked up hm?” i asked as i watched his pants getting tighter, fully hard cock.

“fuck! i’m sorry- i didn’t even notice” matt looked down, eyes widening. “you’re just so pretty” he confessed.

“you’re so cute, matt. do you want me to help you out?” i asked, palming him over his jeans.

“please” he let out in a choked moan, “please touch me”

the grin on my face grew wide as matt sunk his teeth on his bottom lip, trying to cover his soft whimpers as i kept on stroking his clothed cock.

i unzipped his jeans, sneaking my fingers into his underwear so i could pull out matt’s dick, which quickly sprung against my palm, almost hitting his own belly. matt adjusted himself on the chair, spreading his legs apart as his mouth hang open. i finally got a proper grip of his shaft, wrapping my fingers around his surprisingly large cock.

matt let out a loud groan when i finally started twisting my hand, lifting his left arm to cover his own face. “why are you so shy, baby?” i whispered in his ear.

“n-never… never done that” matt said, squirming on his sit as i pumped him.

“never had a girl touching you like that?” i cooed, watching matt nodding vigorously. “it’s okay, i promise it’s gonna feel good”

“it- mhm- feels good!” he bucked his hips forward when i moved my thumb upwards, circling his leaking tip. “i’m not g-gonna last long” matt said as i tightened the grasp on his length. he kept on jointing his hips, trying to fuck into my fist in a pathetic, sloppy pace.

“you wanna cum for me, matt? wanna show how much of a good boy you are?” i kissed his cheek and tucked his hair behind his red ear, continuously jerking him off.

“fuck, please!” he said, the loudest he’d been the entire night. “i’m your good boy! wanna cum, p-please”

“go ahead” i allowed him, peppering pecks on his damp forehead, sweat dripping from his neck all the day down to his tummy, which was soon painted white from matt’s release. he threw his head back, whimpering as he came on my hand, thick spurt messing us both. 

i got up to wash my hands and grab him a towel, letting matt rest as he came from his high, chest still rising rapidly.

“thank you” he mumbled when i offered to clean him up. “i’m sorry i made such a mess” matt chuckled, watching as i wiped his cum off. “don’t apologize, you did really well babyboy” i praised.

“can… can i try?” he asked me, reaching for his glasses over the table. he quickly put them on again, reading my confused expression. “i wanna make you feel good too” matt said, turning his body to face me.

“you want me to teach you how to please a girl?” i teased him, bringing both of my legs to my chest, exposing the back of my thighs to him.

matt checked me out from head to toe, stopping where my feet landed and not being able to take his eyes off the panties i purposely wore. i knew he’d love pink. “no, not any girl. you- wanna be good for you” he confessed, sliding off his chair and kneeling on the ground.

i widened my eyes, not expecting matt’s sudden move. he touched the hem of my shorts, silently asking me to take them off. i quickly removed it, letting it slide down my legs along with my panties, fully exposing my pussy to him.

“oh, fuck” he mumbled. “it’s so pretty and it’s… it’s all wet”

“you did that to me” i told him, moving my hair to the side so i could get a better look of matt eating me out for the first time.

“how should i do it?” he asked, blue eyes looking for reassurance. my hands went to his brown curls, bringing his face closer to my crotch.

matt stuck his tongue out, slowly licking my lower lips. he widened his eyes once again, probably surprised by the taste and gave it another try as i giggled at his shy performance. matt’s large hands went to my thighs, forcing my legs open as he fully went for it, pressuring a kiss against my clit. i gasped when he started to swirl his tongue on me, spit drooling down his chin as he licked me in the messiest, sloppiest way.

“matt” i called but he didn’t even listen, still eating me out, only raising his eyebrows as he looked at me through his glasses. “you never done this before?” i sighed deeply, tangling my fingers on his hair as i lowered my hips on him.

matt hummed something, probably agreeing with what i had asked, but this only send a wave of vibrations through my folds, my thighs suddenly closing around his head as i felt my orgasm approaching. he was way too good for a virgin.

“matt- fuck!” i moaned loudly, the knot on my lower belly begging to be released. “i’m gonna cum!” i warned as he was about the have a taste for the first time. he moved downwards and started to tease my entrance, his tongue pushing inside my slit as i kept on moving my hips, practically humping his face.

matt continued to eat me out as my orgasm washed over me, making me throw my head back and my body tremble due the overstimulation. i had to pull his hair so he’d remove himself from me, watching his swollen lips covered with my cum. matt licked my release and went back to my thighs, biting my bare skin. “enough, baby” i moaned, feeling his hands holding me in place. “matthew, i said enough”.

he groaned in protest, not wanting to stop. matt gave a few more kisses down my legs, pulling away and staring at me with puppy eyes. i caressed his brown strands, soon cupping his cheeks and sealing our lips. “you did really well for a first time, matt” i thanked him as he got up, sliding his jeans back on.

“so…” he started. “i’m guessing you gave up on your homework?”

“of course not” i rolled my eyes, watching as he buttoned his shirt. “i’m gonna need this good boy to help me every week”.

[san8ny]

CamGirl! Ellie

“How...” You trail off as you view the poll in disbelief, setting the brightness of your monitor up in an effort to re-read the winners of your next collaboration,

Ellie Williams had won by a landslide over Abby Anderson.

How was that even fuckin’ possible, i mean, it was practically unheard of in the field of camming; a rookie like Williams beating a veteran like Anderson out.

You prop a fuzzy sock-clad foot on your desk as you lean back in your streaming chair, the viewers going absolutely insane at the chance of a collab with Ellie Williams now becoming a reality. You simply couldn’t help the amusement that began to simmer in your manner.

“Well..I did promise you all, didn’t I?” You flash a pearly smile, looking back at your camera as the thousands of comments roll in,

@Ilovesluts1: LETS GOOOOO!

@Abbys3xual: made like a bajillion accounts to vote for abby smh :/

@EWismyreligion: bro sm1 tag me when its starts next week

@AbbyAnderson: aw, dont seem so down, ill get em next time

@FuckSuckGo: ░PUSSY░IN░BIO░

Skimming through them, you slightly tilt your head at the viewer count, “Mm, we’re past our usual viewership number, are you all that excited to see me get fucked?” Your laugh coming out a bit airy as you slowly begin to unzip the large hoodie you had on, top set of teeth brushing against your bottom lip, “Now that you’ve got something fun to look forward to, let’s get back on our usual schedule.”

Meanwhile, Ellie was laying in bed, laptop propped up on her thighs as she watches your stream in antcipation on her alt. Poor girl had practically chewed her nailbeds down to nothing as she hears you talk about her for the first time in that sultry voice you had; Ellie practically worshipped the ground you walked on- hell, you were the one to even get into her camming.

She first came across your sfw gaming account, thinking you were a fresh breath of air. You had good humor, seemed down to earth and you were beautiful as hell.

Couple of weeks later, you mention in a ‘StarDew Valley’ stream how your other account got flagged for the influx of subscribers you were obtaining, the streaming platform mistaking them for bots. You were just that good, and Ellie didn’t need any further convincing before finding the paywalled account and sprinting to her coat, fishing out the credit card.

Safe to say she quickly became one of your top donators in just a couple of days, the comments talking amongst themselves of just who ‘User1009’ could be, and the hefty amount of money being sent in a single sitting; you didn’t really bat an eye all that much as you were pretty use to it, but upon reading the comments, you smiled; “Guess i’m well liked?”

shortly after, the system text-to-speech alert sounds:

@User1009 has sent a donation of 3000USD with a note attached:- More than you know :)

Ellie was ensnared in your trap. She worked a regular 9-5, she wasn’t under a hot-shot label like you when she cammed in the little to no free time she had, instead, opting to freelance with little 5 minute amateur videos.

Though, it’s her toned body and music-like moans that gets her quickly climbing in the ranks, the platform practically becoming infatuated with the quick strokes of Ellie’s wrist when she’s pumping a sleek toy inside of her, or the risk of her being caught in the very public areas she performes said acts in. She was a thrill, and had everyone tuned in.

Even you, as you probe your mouse around her offical account in your dim-lit room, trying to see just who would be bending you over.

“She’s cute..” You mutter as you click on one of the more clearer videos, heat quickly consuming you as her slicked pussy comes into camera-view, long slender olive-toned fingers pistoning in and out of her swollen cunt aggressively as she chases an orgasm, before slowly removing them and demonstrating how her cum webs inbetween digits, some cascading down her wrist before the video cuts.

And for the first time in some weeks, you catch yourself actually feeling excited as you rub your thighs together.

Not just for the clicks and money either..but for some girl on the internet.

Hey, i dont rlly know if you’d be okay with this but..r u down for a vid tgtr? my fans rlly like u but ik u dont do collabs lol (sent at 11:36pm)

[toxicanonymity]

thoughts

1.6k / joel miller x virgin!reader / master

sequel to Aches but can read alone. Next: Needs. Series masterlist. WARNINGS: I8+ mdni, big girthy age gap (20/50s) only one sleeping bag, pining, fingering, grinding, jacking off, hand job, mutual masturbation, innocence, pet names. No use of y/n.

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

“You don’t have to do it for me,” you whisper.  

The problem is, the more Joel relieves you, the more often you seem to ache.  The more you think about him and his body - his body pressed against yours, wrapped around yours.  Inside yours - It’s what you think about all day, every day now.  It’s getting really bad.  It’s hard to keep eye contact sometimes.  

-

Earlier, you were both rummaging through an abandoned convenience store. Joel walked up and asked, “Find anything ya like?”  You turned around and your eyes instantly fell on his tight jeans.  He followed your gaze down, then slowly stepped toward you.  “Hmm?” he prompted you.  

You stammered, “Sorry. What?”  

He smiled to himself.  “See anything ya like?” 

“I, uh-”  

“In the store, honey.”  He briefly glanced around the building.  “Find anything good?” 

“Oh.  No, I guess not.” Your whole face was hot.  

He cupped your burning cheek and his brow furrowed as he asked, “You okay, sweetie? You’re warm.” 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you whispered with your eyes drowning in his.  A pool was forming in your panties and his touch on your face made you throb between the legs.  It was that moment you realized how out of control your desires were getting.  It was a constant distraction. 

-

Now you’re huddled in his sleeping bag as usual.  Joel is spooning you with his hard dick pressed against you.  Your top leg is back slightly behind you, between his legs, to make room for his hand between your thighs. He’s two knuckles deep and you’re already close to falling apart. He’s been helping you for a couple of weeks now, and it gets easier and easier to let yourself come. 

“Course I don’t have to,” he says and pushes another finger into you.  You inhale a chest full of air as he pushes his digits to the hilt and curls them.  Your hips lift into his hand which was already soaked with your arousal before he inserted a single digit.  “Why? Want me to stop?” Your clit rubs against his slick palm as he expertly works his fingers. 

“No,” you whisper. “I don’t want you to stop.” 

“Good,” he murmurs, moving his fingers rhythmically as you grind into his hand.  Then he whispers in your ear,  “Cause I kinda like doin’ it.”  

You moan softly. 

“Ya know,” he says softly, “You might like helpin’ me, too.”  

You’ve thought so much about his cock.  You’ve felt it pressed hard against you so many times through his boxers and your panties.  You’ve never touched it though, not with your hands.  You haven’t felt the skin, except one time when it was accidentally peeking through his boxers and the tip touched your lower back, making a wet spot on your shirt.  When you flinched, he apologized. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Maybe.” 

“Why don’t we find out,” he murmurs. “try just a few seconds?”

You swallow, ashamed of your eagerness for anything involving his cock.  “Okay,” you say hesitantly.  

“Good girl.”  He takes his hand away from between your legs for just long enough to free his aching manhood from his boxers and lube it with your slick. “Gimme your hand, sweetie.”  

“I dunno how or anything,” you tell him. You clench your thighs together, still in need of relief.  You’re not sure if you’ve ever ached this badly.  

“That’s okay.  Don’t gotta do anything.” 

You slowly reach back, offering him your hand as you crane your neck to look to his eyes for reassurance.  It’s too dark to see, but you can still feel what his warm eyes would look like. 

“Think you’re gonna like this. But if ya don’t, ya don’t have to, okay?” He wraps your hand around his cock upside down. “Yeah,” he whispers.  “Just kinda hold it. That’s all ya gotta do.” His breathing is heavier with your hand touching his stiff cock. It’s larger than you thought it would be.  You always imagined you’d easily be able to wrap your hand around one.  

Joel thrusts into your slick hand and you feel a stab of need.

“How’s that?” he asks, thrusting slowly into your hand again with a barely audible grunt. 

“Good,” you whisper, holding your hand behind you. The skin of his shaft is so smooth. Now more than ever, you’re aching to be filled.  

“Attagirl,” he murmurs.  “Still want my help, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathe.  

“Good girl.” He reaches his arm over yours and slides his hand between your legs again. He softly groans when he feels how much wetter you are than you were just a minute ago.  All this, just from touching his cock.  “God damn,” he whispers. 

“What?”

“Nothin', baby.”  

It would be hard to say what you prefer - having his cock thrust into your hand or against your body. But finally feeling it naked, feeling its shape, the softness of the skin, the impossible firmness of the erection – it takes your breath away.  He slides two fingers into your cunt and pumps them at the same slow rhythm he’s thrusting into your hand. 

Your pleasure builds rapidly, and you badly need release. “Doin’ great, baby,” he says in a deep, gruff whisper. “Just perfect.” He gradually increases the pace,  moving his fingers and cock in unison.  His cock fills your hand as his fingers fill your dripping cunt.  You’re keenly aware of what you’d rather be filled with.  

He softly grunts into your hair.  “Ohh, yeah,” he sighs as he thrusts into your hand and pumps his fingers.

You whimper at the edge of your climax, your upper back pressing into his chest and your hips grinding desperately into his large hand as his fingers fuck you. Your whole body tenses. 

He talks you through it soothingly as usual, lips planted near your ear. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, “you’re there, I got ya.”  Your hips push desperately into the palm of his hand, and his hand pushes back just right.  You whine his name as your core finds its stuttering release. The pleasure is more explosive than ever.  

“Good girl,” he whispers.  You recover for a few seconds, then turn around to face him.  He quickly folds down the unzipped sleeping bag for more space and rolls onto his back.  “You wanna keep helpin’?”

You nod and whisper, “yeah.” Then you add “Am I doing okay?” 

“'Course you are, baby. Get your hand wet between your legs now,” he says, which embarrasses you.  

“Nothin’ to be ashamed of, remember?” 

You take his cock in  your hand again and he covers it with his, showing you how tight to grip it and how to stroke it over the head. 

“Good girl.” 

-

Once you’ve got the hang of it, he asks, “You like helpin’ me?” 

You nod as you keep stroking his cock.  

Joel says, “Mmm hmm,” and looks at you curiously.  “Why’d ya say I don’t have to help?” His breathing is still heavy, but he’s trying to control it as you talk. 

You open your mouth but hesitate to answer. Instead, you stare down into the darkness, imagining what his cock must look like based on all the details that are gliding in and out of your hand.  He’s soooo hard.  

“You can tell me anything, pretty girl.”  He takes a deep breath. “We figure stuff out together, remember?” He breathes again. “Always do.” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, then you swallow. “I dunno how to say it,” you admit.  

“Do your best,” he says. 

“Since you’ve been helping me, I’ve been feeling it more often.”

“You have?” he asks. “Like how?” His hips subtly move as you keep stroking his cock. 

“Like during the day.  Randomly.” 

“That’s okay, baby.” 

“But it aches, and it’s distracting.” 

“Distracting?”  His voice becomes more strained. 

“I have a lot of thoughts all the time.” 

“What kinda thoughts, baby?”  His voice has a sense of urgency. 

“About you.” 

He moans softly. “Uh-huh. Like what?” 

“Um-”

“Tell me anything, baby,” he quickly reassures you, nearly out of breath.   

“About this,” you whisper. You pause to give his cock a squeeze to make sure he knows that’s what you’re talking about.  “Yeah, about this.” Then you continue stroking.  

“Ohh baby,” he exhales. “Course ya do.” 

“All the time,” you whisper. 

“And what about it?”  he pants.  

“I’m not sure,” you mutter.  

“Thinkin’ ‘bout me bein’ inside you?” he asks, still panting.  He moans softly.  

“Yeah,” you whisper. 

“Ohhhhhh, God,” he sighs as he begins to pulse into your hand. “God damn, baby,” he breathes as he releases his last hot, sticky rope into your fist.   

-

Joel catches his breath, then says, “'Course ya have those thoughts, sweetie. I have the same thoughts. Everyone does."  

“You do?” 

“It’s normal,.  They teach biology in FEDRA school right?” 

“Yeah.”

“It’s biology, honey.  Our bodies feel things for each other.  They wanna be together in the way they’re meant to.  It’s how we work -  Nothin’ but science.” 

You’re not sure how that’s supposed to help you.  

He reaches for his backpack and grabs some paper to wipe off your hand and his stomach. 

“So what do I do about it?” you ask him. 

He’s quiet for a few seconds.  "Let’s think about it, honey.  We’ll figure it out together.” 

“Okay.” 

“We’ll figure it out, sweetie.  We always do.” 

“Yeah.” 

He wraps himself around you and kisses your head, then you say good night.  You think about what he said so matter of factly.  The thought of it excites you but also scares you.  Especially now that you’ve felt how big he is with your hand for scale. 

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

Thank you so much for reading and engaging.  Love you guys <33

if you like this, please check out my dbf x innocent virgin! reader fic Left in Lincoln (dbf x virgin) which has been ongoing since April. Read warnings. Also, my master list has a virginity section on it.

You can subscribe to @toxicfics for notifications and @toxicrecs for my fic recs.

-

[drewsbuzzcut]

Inside Y/n Barzal’s Coach Hobo Bag | In The Bag | Vogue

Mat Barzal x model!fem!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: small mention of sex and I think that’s all…

Takes Place: Oct 2027 (fun fact: model is pregnant here, with AJ and she doesn’t even know it yet)

“Hey Vogue, I’m Y/n Barzal and this is “What’s In My Bag”,” you say straight to the camera with your famous, sparkling smile.

“This is my capacious bag,” you say with a giggle, bringing your purse onto your lap.

“She is a Coach purse. Specifically a brown leather, Madison Maggie Hobo,” you continue as you touch the random signs of wear and tear on your favorite accessory.

“Someone once asked me why my everyday bag is so big, and I just told them it’s because I’m a mother and wife. My purse literally holds my entire life. Anyways! First up are my lip products. My lip balm is from my best friend’s makeup line. It’s amazing. Next is my lip combo: Mac lip liner in cool spice and Mac lipstick in fleshpot. It’s my go-to and what I’m wearing at the moment.”

You swipe some of the lipstick on your lips, capping the tube and smacking your lips dramatically.

Digging in your purse, blindly, you pull out the next item. “A hockey puck! This is from yesterday’s Islanders game. My husband tossed it to me.“ You hold the puck close to your heart, feeling gooey about the little tradition. “He alternates giving pucks to my son and me. Oh and speaking of yesterday’s game, my bag usually has so many snacks, but Nolan and I ate them all last night,” you explain with a smirk.

“Does Mat always give pucks to you guys?” Someone behind the scenes asks.

“Every single home game. He never misses one unless he’s injured, or not playing for some reason,” you state.

“This is very special to me. It’s my good luck charm. After my husband and I moved in together, I painted the key I had for his apartment. There are different things to symbolize our relationship and it was a very fun, little project,” you sigh softly, holding the painted key out to the camera.

“Why is it your lucky charm?”

“It’s silly, but it seems like after he gave me this key to his apartment, everything fell into place. Our relationship blossomed so beautifully and our careers became even more successful than they were,” you say with a lovestruck smile.

“My digital camera,” you squeal after pulling it out.

“This is my prized possession, because it has so many pictures that I need to print. I have pictures from our honeymoon and our yearly trip to Italy.”

You click through the different images, settling on the one of Mat and Nolan sunbathing.

“This was a month or so ago in Italy. Nolan was in the pool the whole morning, so he wanted to rest on his daddy’s chest for the longest time,” you comment on the picture, turning the small camera to the one recording you.

Mat is wearing the softest smile and Nolan is sprawled out like a starfish on his dad’s chest.

“This one is of mom and dad in bed,” you stop to hold back a giggle. Your cheeks starts to heat up, but you do your best to contain it by biting on your lip.

Playfully rolling your eyes, you say, “we weren’t doing anything scandalous.” A lie. Mat had just finished feasting on you and wanted to take a picture of the both of you in post-coital bliss.

“We’re just cuddling and this picture is really cute. I love you, Mat,” you confessed and blow a kiss, knowing that your husband will be watching the video once it’s posted.

“Oh this is an important one! An extra pair of panties. You just never know when you might need them and I always like to be prepared,” you hum as you showcase a cotton thong.

“For those of you that are nosy, there’s a 13 on them. It’s my husband’s jersey number and my lucky number.” You slyly wink at the camera and shove them back inside the bag.

“This one is also important. My journal and pen. Sometimes inspiration strikes and I much rather write it physically than type it on my phone. You also never know when you might need a pen,” you claim, rapidly flipping through the filled in pages.

As you’re pulling out your wallet next, a condom accidentally comes with it. It’s caught between your fingers and a part of the wallet’s exterior.

“Oh my god!” You shout once you realize what else is in your hand.

“I am so sorry. Oh my god.” The words are muffled as you slap a hand over your face.

“This is so embarrassing. Is this even allowed? I’m so sorry,” you ramble with the condom clutched tightly in your hand.

“It’s fine. We’re all adults here,” one of the producers confirms.

“This is a condom. An old one that should actually be in the trash, because I’m not sure how long it’s been in my purse. Please protect yourself when having sex, and with proper protection that isn’t old,” you chuckle, cheeks dark red and eyes squeezed shut.

“You’re getting the uncensored version today,” you breathe out, fanning yourself off from the flames of embarrassment.

“Next up are some jewelry pieces that are extremely important to me. Right now they’re in these little cloth bags, because whenever I have a photo shoot I can’t have them on. I just had a shoot before this, so now is actually the perfect time to put them back on,” you mutter, pulling open the little sacks.

“My wedding rings. I can look at them all day,” you swoon.

“We got married some months ago and I’m just so in love. Especially because Barzy designed my rings himself. I love him so much.”

“This is my locket, also from my husband. On the inside is a picture of us kissing and 13 is engraved as you can see,” you show the locket before clasping it around your neck.

“Yes, another 13! There’s nothing wrong with me representing my man,” you point at the camera in a playful chastise.

“These are diapers and baby wipes,” you point out the obvious.

“And before anyone asks, yes, I do carry a diaper bag. These diapers and wipes are for emergencies because I like to be prepared,” you added with an assertive nod.

“And lastly,” you huff, flipping your hair and wiping away a nonexistent tear.

“We have Sparky the dragon. This is Nolan’s favorite thing ever. We have them all over the house and in all the cars. He cannot be without his favorite toy for more than 30 minutes, but as long as it isn’t a tablet or phone, it’s fine with me.”

“That’s everything I carry with me everywhere, except my car keys! Damn, sorry. I knew I was missing something. Anywho… thank you for watching and I’ll see you next time,” you say your goodbyes and blow a kiss to the camera.

a/n: This was very fun to write and I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I do🫶

[atyourmerci]

♡ Hook, line, and sinker (2) (sub!abby // follower req)

Basketball!abby X nerdy reader

Read pt.1 here

♡ ♡

Summary: Abby gets eager to get another study seshion in within days of seeing her last

Warnings: smut, MDNI, sub!abby, top!reader, abby is a whiny sub, orgasming from being untouched, lots of tongue???, my digital footprint is assfucked, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader

A/N: sorry I left yall on a cliffhanger but pt.3(finale) will undoubtedly be my favorite, I’ve had it planned from the beginning so hehe. I’m so glad you guys are enjoying it as much as I am. Love you like always, enjoy muah!

♡ ♡

She couldn’t even fucking look at you. Not a single glance. It’s as if her every pathetic whimper and plea would broadcast to the general public if she so much as looked your way.

It was pathetic, and a little comical to say the least. The power you held over her was obvious, and she knew it. It made her sick, the way she gave up so easily, broke down every wall, gave into you. But for fuck’s sake was it riveting, she couldn’t stop thinking of the intensity…how powerful yet slow you made it. How you worked your way into completing dissecting her.

She had never let any sexual manner have the chance of passion, intimacy. Sex was a goal to her. The intricacies getting to that destination were trivial to her. You fucked it all up, she started dwelling on it, growing obsessed of every detail you slowed masterfully.

She needed more.

♡ ♡

After a week of unmet glances and radio static you came to the conclusion that you completely wrecked the ox of a woman. All it took was a few words and your tongue to rip her out of her upheld perception of herself.

You tried fucking with her the second time you had class with her. Once, sure, maybe she was busy or concentrated for once, but twice? She was purposefully hiding, like a scared bunny from a predator.

You bumped into her walking out of class. If you could even call it a bump- more like you threw your body at her knowing that she couldn’t ignore it. At the touch of you she almost seized up, staring down at the floor in front of her, continuing her path. You threw her a teasing, “oh…sorry!” To which she returned with awkward mumbling, something along the lines of, “ah- uh-,” and continued almost in a run away from you.

You laughed it off. A few words and your tongue…fucking comical.

If avoiding her reality is the way that worked for her, so be it. There was no need to try to process her internal emotions- she couldn’t even do it. So, you let it die, you knew the type of person she was. You knew her dirty little secret.

♡ ♡

Another mind numbing night of studying till your eyes popped out of their sockets was in store for you. Staring at white pages filled with words and highlighting’s, fuck they could be in another language for all you knew at this hour.

It was getting late and you were about ready to throw the towel in, making it tomorrow mornings issue. You hear a buzz from your phone, rubbing your eyes you wonder who has the audacity to try speaking with you at this hour. “Abby Anderson,” illuminates on your face. At first you think you may be dreaming, your eyes weren’t working well at this point anymore.

A.A: Can we meet up this week, need help w the test

Now you need me?

A.A: huh

Nothing. Test isn’t for another 3 weeks… why do you want to start now?

A.A: need to get ahead

Mmm okay. Tomorrow at the library?

A.A: too loud

Okay coffee shop

A.A: I don’t like coffee

I didn’t ask

A.A: I’ll be over at your place tomorrow- 8

Little late for studying

A.A: do you ever shut up

If you promise you’ll be nice

A.A: I didn’t say that

I’m sure you’ll be a good girl

A.A: let me come over

See you at 8 tomorrow.

Only Abby Anderson would attempt to booty call you through a ruse of studying. She usually came knocking down your door the night before the test begging you for your help. Three weeks before was, well… pathetic.

♡ ♡

When she showed up at your dorm door, 8pm on the nose, she was more nervous than you had ever seen her. She blessed you with one weary glance as you whipped the door open, but continued her gaze down afterwards.

When she sat on the bed, for the first time she sat completely straight up, uncomfortably straight, folding her legs across and twiddling her fingers between her legs. A nervous habit you’d picked up from her on your last endeavor.

She never usually paid attention to your lecturing but fuck was it like she wasn’t even in the room this time. Throwing out quick “yeah’s” and “yup’s” on a routine after you’d say a thought.

You knew exactly what she came here for…but god was it fun to watch her squirm. You could’ve thrown her…okay maybe not thrown…but at least pushed her down on your bed so she didn’t have to do any work, give her the easy way out. But that would not have been amusing.

You’re in the middle of explaining a chemistry equation and- “can you just- do it,” she blurts out, stopping you completely in your tracks. You watch her intently, waiting for an elaboration you won’t get. Her eyes trained on her lap, waiting for you to pick up her scattered pieces and place them together.

“Do what abby?” You say faking curiosity. “You know,” she says in return. “I don’t think I do,” you taunt her. “Please-“ she says meekly. You begin to crawl silently towards her, moving her hands up from her lap so you can straddle her and move her hands back to tops of your thighs.

The sudden sensation causes her breath to hitch, her eyes watching her unwarranted hand placement on your thighs. You lightly grip her jawline so that she meets your eyes, just watching as her mouth opens in a pant.

“You make me nervous,” she says, if she could, she’d break your eye contact, but you wouldn’t let that happen.

“New game.”

She looks back at you puzzled, almost frightened. You grip your hand around her chin tighter, “you’re going to lay down, just like the last time, and I’m going lick every inch of you, and you’re going to tell me right where it’s sensitive, you understand?”

You watch as she gulps down a nervous breath, shaking her head rapidly, eyes dazed. “Good girl, now go lay down.” Her hands move to your hips, grasping down on the flesh desperately, “I can’t handle when you call me that-“

“No touching- or I stop.” She pulls her hands down quickly, moving her way to the back of your bed. “Y- okay. I-I promise.”

She looked like I child waiting to open presents on Christmas, eyes bright and wide, waiting for your command. This time you didn’t have to ask, she immediately ripped her shirt and sweats off, leaving her only in her sports bra and boxers adorned with a patch of slick forming in the center. You climb closer to her, kneeling between her thighs.

Just to toy with her further you slowly begin unbuttoning your blouse, her mouth starting to gape. Once it had been completely removed you started working on your shorts, slowly shimmying them down your thighs with your eyes trained onto her. She bit onto her lip watching as you were left only in your own bra and panties.

You climb back onto her, bare skin on bare skin. You wanted to tear into her, but taking your time to cut deep would be so much more rewarding. “You understand the rules?” You as watching her teeth cut into her lip, “mhm,” she replies through her closed mouth.

You lean into her, catching her shoulder with your tongue as she jolts into you. You feel her arms come up beside you but fall quickly. You trace it up to her collarbone, letting your teeth graze the thin skin there, following to where they met in the middle. You trail it up the middle of her throat, feeling the vibration of her breath.

“C-close,” she breaths out. You redirect to the side of her neck, right on the pulse. You already knew it was sensitive there but…it was fun.

“Fuck there,” she breathes out. You take your time licking down the throb, nipping at it, teasing the threat, eliciting as many little whimpers you can get out of her. Once you’ve had your fun you move up, catching the lobe of her ear with your teeth, “holy fuck- yeah there,” she groans out.

You bring your mouth into her ear, whispering gently into it as your hand snakes against the opposite side of her neck, “what? No ones ever touched you here?”

She groans back at you, “n-no. Never.” You return back to the shell of her ear, nipping at the surrounding flesh.

You begin your decent, your clothed cunt reaching hers, “take this off for me pretty,” you say outlining her bra with your fingertips. She feverishly nods tossing it off of her. You lean into her chest, taking no time to meet your tongue to her rose pink bud. Her body jolts up at the sensation, her chest growing a deep shade of pink.

“There. Right there!” You begin circling it, saturating it with your spit, “I know baby,” you say glancing back into her eyes, lidded trying to keep them open so she can watch you, but it was getting so so hard.

Your teeth latch onto it, encasing the bud gently. Flushed red as the blood raced to them, teeth purpling dots into the soft flesh. The whimpers falling off her pathetic throat.

“You k-know you c-ant talk to me like that,” you watch as her hands grip into the sheets, knuckles whitening. “You can come baby, I won’t be mad.” Your fingers come up to twist her untouched nipple as you lap your tongue at the swollen one in your mouth.

The pool of your own arousal soaking into hers, even covered you can feel the pulsing of her, repeated by your own.

“I- I can’t.” She pants out as her hips buck up into your clothed core. “Yes you can, you’re being such a good girl, show me how good you feel.”

“Please- no n-not like this.” Her head drops into your pillow…she’s so fucking close. The red on her chest now trailing up her neck.

“Come for me pretty girl, just like that, rub that pretty pussy into me.” She begins shaking, trying to stop herself, but it was too late.

“Fffffffuckkkkkkkk,” she begins reeling, whimpering through her reluctant orgasm. Her hips grind into yours as her chest splattered with beads of sweat rapidly rises and falls. “Good girl, keep going.” She rides it out as long as she can, chasing her own pathetic untouched high.

Once she settles she glances up at you dazed, as if she wasn’t sure what had just happened. You stare back smugly, sure of your power.

“That was- embarrassing.” She ashamedly shakes her head, letting the tight grip of the sheets go. “Quite hot on the contrary,” you dismiss. “God if anyone ever-“ she begins to protest.

“Let me show you how it makes me feel,” you cut her off, dismantling yourself from her so that your legs frame around hers, wide open.

Your own pool of slick dripping out the sides of your thin panties. She gawks at the site, unable to remove her gaze from the sense of familiarity. The feeling of intensity so tight you cant stop yourself from the natural reaction.

“Can I-“ she begins to reach out to you but you cut her short, “no.” You dismiss her with no room for discussion.

This wasn’t about your secret. It was about hers.

Follower req by: @ghgygd

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed @shewantstoknow

[head-shoulders-knees-pain]

Day 17: Aventurine x Gn!Reader - Glove Kink

fandom: Honkai Star Rail word count: 500+ cw: 18+, kink without sex, glove kink, dom reader, sub character, teasing, light degradation (to character), spoilers of his character (job and real name) tag: @ficsforgaza note: I was an idiot and posted it a week early, still hope you enjoy <3

“Is there a purpose behind your gloves or more of a stylistic choice?”

The man in question lets the coin he was flipping land in his hand, before looking up towards me. 

“Oh, these old things? Nothing special, my hands are just too valuable so having them prevents me from touching anything unworthy.” He replies haughtily, though his winking blue and pink eye shows me it’s only a joke.

‘Fine, two can play that game.’ I lean over, taking his right hand. 

“For such a charming man, I have to agree. Can’t have just anyone hold your precious hands, can we?” I emphasize my point by placing a single kiss on one of his rings.

A pause followed by the sound of a gulp has me looking back up, and what a sight I’m greeted with.

His eyes on open display with his shades having fallen down the brim of his nose, wide and alert. His usually unflappable mouth opens and closes but my favorite part is the pink tracing his normally pale cheeks.

In what feels like an eon but is more like a few seconds, he brings his other hand up while clearing his throat. 

“And people call me a smooth talker, guess I really am more a gambler than a charmer haha.”

I arch one of my eyebrows at his display; leaning closer I push more. “My dear Aventurine, don’t tell me you’re soft on me after a simple gesture of goodwill?”

He scoffs and uses his left hand to push me away slightly, speaking quicker with each exchange, “A simple gesture? I’m more used to handshakes or-”

Instead of listening, I evade his push and cup his left hand with mine. “Then perhaps I should get you more acquainted?”

My fingers trace the edge of his glove where it clings to his skin, smiling as I hear a gasp slip past his lips. 

“Really! T-there’s no need for that-” he cuts himself off with a hitch as my fingers dip below the leather and trace his palm.

“While there may be no need, that doesn’t mean you can’t want it. Is that what you want? Want to feel me touch you? I promise I won’t sully you’re precious exterior…unless, of course, you want me to~”

My fingers circle the edge of his glove, waiting for his permission.

His eyes dart between me and the glove, his biting his lip in thought, before whispering a simple, “...please?”

I hum warmly and look up at him again, “Yes? Please what?”

“Take it off, kiss me, anything just do it already-” The quick movement of my hand sliding between his glove and his hand as I remove the glove cuts him off.

His soft pale hand feels almost like a Victorian woman showing her ankles, and who am I but a simple human wanting to oblige their lover’s request?

I cup his bare hand, tracing each digit carefully. I lower my mouth to his hand as I softly place a kiss from his knuckles to his pulse point, up his arm to his jaw until I reach the corner of his mouth.

His little gasps and hums of pleasure are a beautiful melody, but as the conductor of this orchestra, I cut it off with a searing kiss. 

Warm lips pressed together, I feel his hands grab hold of my shoulders to steady himself. It’s a good thing because as soon as I brush my tongue against his lower lip, I can feel a shiver rack through him.

However, I pull away when an idea pops into my head. 

I start to put his glove on my hand as he stares at me dazedly, “W…what are you doing?”

I only hum before I pull it tight and bring my now-gloved hand to caress his cheek, “Thought it might be fun to see what all the fuss was about your gloves.”

My grin only grows as he leans into my touch, “I think there might even be more to your gloves than even you realized.”

I move my gloved thumb to touch his lips, which he quickly opens.

“So obedient, I don’t even have to ask.” 

Slowly, I push my gloved thumb into his warm mouth and am rewarded with a muffled moan.

I use my other hand to discard his shades so his dilated pupils are on full display and card my hand through his hair gently.

“Who would’ve thought, one of the IPC’s Ten Stonehearts was an open pervert who displayed his kinks by wearing them all the time. Is this what you wanted? To have your own glove exploring your wet mouth?”

He whines and closes his eyes, but doesn’t pull away and instead sucks slightly on my digit. 

“No need to answer, I already know.” I press down on his tongue, before removing my thumb.

“Wait! I’m not done-!!” He goes to protest but I shut him up with two of my gloved fingers shoved back in his mouth.

“Don’t worry, this is only the beginning my sweet Kakavasha.”

[neouture]

Admiring You

Pairing — Jaemin x Reader

Words — 3,530 words

Genre — 18+, smut, fluff

Warnings — Fem!reader, established relationship. Use of petnames (Jaemin is whipped about being called “baby”), dirty talk, cursing, oral sex (f. receiving), grinding/humping against each other, mild nipple/breast play, lots of praises, mild spanking, jaemin is enthusiastic about reader's ass for this one lmao, unprotected sex (don't do it !), creampie.

“What?”

The corners of your lips rise in a small smile when the mirror's reflection shows Jaemin in awe. He is sitting at the edge of the bed right behind you, but even in such a position where your back is facing him, he manages to find your reflection on the full-length mirror in front of you.

“You,” Jaemin sighs, licking his bottom lip while his eyes do a quick scan of you —from head to toe, he hopes his gaze doesn’t miss a single inch of the flesh in front of him. “God, you’re so-”.

He doesn’t even finish the sentence, yet he has you shying away from his words and eyes.

“Yeah, right,” you crack a small, timid laugh, “stop staring at me, I mean it!”

He's unlucky you're standing right next to the chair of your desk that, strategically, has a big, soft cushion on it. Because the minute you spot it, you throw it at him playfully. However, you're unlucky he is great at everything that involves physical activity, so the playful teasing does nothing to him because before you can tell, he has already caught the cushion with his hands. No impact, and no desired effect either.

Disappointed, you return to your previous task, and Jaemin seemingly does the same —you’re fixing your wet hair, and he’s back staring at you in awe.

“I was thinking we could order takeout,” you tell him, trying to fill the void of silence with anything.

Jaemin hums in response.

“I really don’t feel like going out right now, I just took a shower. Plus there’s this show I’ve been wanting to watch with you-” another hum from your boyfriend as a response, so your furrowed eyebrows find his reflection in the mirror, slightly annoyed. “Jae?”

It isn't uncommon for Jaemin to get lost in his trail of thoughts. “Mhm?”

When you turn around to confront him, you realize he isn’t lost in his trail of thoughts like he usually is. He is right there with you, his gaze is all over your figure, and his mind is there —he’s just planning something out.

“Jae-”

“Take off the bathrobe,” he asks, without thinking twice —he might as well do so, because the bathrobe isn’t doing anything to hide your precious body from him. “Please”.

It looks good on you, he admits. But you look way better without it.

“Do you want to order take out yes or no?”

The sudden plea makes your skin feel hot, but you try to pretend it didn’t affect you at all for any reason. It’s a silly game you often play with yourself, where you try to drag out Jaemin’s desire until he is too close to the edge to bear it.

“I’m not hungry,” he tells you with half a smile, tilting his head. “I mean I am, but not for food”.

The way he is staring at you from head to toe tells you everything you need to know about his innuendo, but isn't it more fun to act clueless? To pretend you don't understand him until he's too desperate for you to keep on dragging this little game on?

“So?”

“So take off your bathrobe,” Jaemin insists again, this time pulling you closer to him, trapping you between his legs while he sits at the edge of the bed. “Please?”

You stare at him, placing both your hands on his shoulders.

“Should I?” you tease your boyfriend with a cheeky smile peeking through the corners of your lips.

“I know you want to,” he sighs, sneaking both his hands to the back of your legs and hooking them around your inner thighs. He caresses them oh so sensually, dragging them up and then a bit down, making you wish for more. “Don’t you?”

You pretend you think about it, but his intimate touch makes it hard for you not to give in.

“You want it,” Jaemin drags the tip of his digits a bit too far up. Too close to your core that’s aching for him, too close to offering any kind of stimulation that it’s going to make you lose your mind. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how you kept staring at me the whole time. Your eyes were all over my ass”.

He feels his cock twitching when the words come out of your mouth, because you’re definitely not that far from the truth. He was, indeed, staring —how couldn’t he? The silk fabric hugged your body tightly and left nothing to the imagination; it sticks to your flesh like another set of skin, and it also lets Jaemin know you’re wearing absolutely nothing underneath it.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you kept bending over just for me to watch,” your boyfriend counter attacks, and suddenly you feel shy. You were teasing him, yes, but it's kind of embarrassing he brings it up.

“I wasn’t,” you say, shaking your head slowly. “I was just brushing my hair”.

“Hm,” Jaemin hums, finally dragging his fingers all the way to your naked core, rubbing the tip of two against your slit.

Dripping.

“Are you sure?” he asks, defiantly. With his penetrative and intimidating gaze all over you, like it's some sort of trial.

Like he has to prove something to you.

“Yes, baby,” you murmur, moving the palms of your hands from his shoulders to his neck. Your boyfriend tilts his head, just at the same time his hands move forward to the naked flesh of your ass. When you feel him squeezing it a bit too harsh, you know you’ve hit the spot.

“Baby?” he repeats with a hoarse voice, like he’s trying to remain collected.

“What?” a smile brightens your face, “you don’t like it when I call you that?”

You know the answer, but you still want to hear it from him. In exchange, though, all you get is silence and a challenging gaze, one that tells you you’re pushing him closer to the edge faster than expected.

“Hm, baby?” you ask again, tilting your head at him. “Cat got your tongue?”

With a sudden movement, Jaemin pulls you towards his lap —you’re no longer standing between his spread legs, but sitting on top of his throbbing bulge that feels tightly pressed against your wet pussy.

This time around, he doesn’t ask you to take off the silk robe. His hands do so delicately, untangling the barely-made ribbon at the front to reveal your naked body to him like you're some sort of gift he has to unwrap.

“Fuck,” he sighs when the fabric is discarded to the floor, leaving you completely exposed for him.

His gaze flies directly to your breasts, the sight of their perfect curvature and hardened nipples makes his cock twitch painfully under you, demanding your attention.

“You look beautiful,” Jaemin whispers underneath his breath, too quiet to be heard from a distance but you pick it fairly well. He places his hands on your hips and pulls you even closer to him, until his tongue latches and swirls around one of your hardened buds.

“God,” his soft lips and wet tongue feel heavenly on your breasts. Your skin gets covered in goosebumps quickly, and you soon feel your body trembling against him. “Don’t- fuck Jaemin, don’t stop”.

He smiles against your skin, but loses no time to provide you with even more stimulation. He drags his hands from your hips to your arse, and he grips it tightly while pressing his body against yours.

“So good,” Jaemin murmurs, caressing and squeezing your ass while guiding your hips over his lap. Your body reacts instinctively, and the more he touches you, the more you grind against his bulge.

“Yeah?” you ask with a deep sigh, wrapping your hands and arms around his neck. “I’m good?”

“Perfect,” he smiles, landing a soft and gentle slap on one of your ass cheeks. It isn’t painful, but the sharp feeling it’s enough to have you whimpering against his lips. “You’re perfect”.

You wish to stay forever like this, hugging him tightly with your pussy pressed against his cock. You want to feel his hands all over you, at all times —on your breasts, on your hips and on your ass. But you’re getting desperate.

Jaemin can tell, by the way you move your hips deeper and faster, trying to get more friction and stimulation. He can even feel how wet you are through the fabric of his shorts.

“I want to taste you,” he sighs, pressing a kiss on your chest, then on your neck and one on your lips. “Let me eat your pussy out”.

There’s something enticing about how dirty Jaemin can get with his words. You love how raw they sound, how the more turned on he gets, the more he stops thinking about everything too much.

So you stand up from his lap, and just when you’re about to get in the usual position —lying down with your back against the mattress and your legs spread— Jaemin motions you to get on your knees.

The position is rather new for this specific practice, but you don’t seem to hate it —your knees are pressed against the mattress, your back is arched and your ass is completely exposed for him. The only thing you dislike it’s the fact that you can’t see him or his face, but you completely become mindless once his tongue laps at your slit.

“Fuck,” Jaemin groans. Guttural, even animalistic.

The louder he gets, the more you melt.

He buries his face between your legs, and loses no opportunity to have his hands all over your ass. He often fantasies with you sitting on top of his face, grinding your wet pussy against his lips while you get off with him. Tonight, though, he wants to be fully in control of your pleasure, so he pushes that fantasy aside for a little while.

“Taste so good,” he murmurs, collecting all your wetness with his own tongue and smearing it along your slit. He’s messy with it, and neither of you seem to care. “Your body it’s- just fucking perfect”.

You moan at his words, and arch your back even harder at his ministrations.

“Shit, baby,” you whine, gripping the bed sheets with your hands in an attempt to hold on to something. Normally you’d do so latching your fingers along his long hair, but since the position doesn’t allow you too, the bed sheets will have to do for now.

“You have no idea how much I love it when you call me that,” your boyfriend hisses, offering you yet another soft spank to your ass cheeks. “I swear you have me wrapped around your finger, pretty”.

The more he praises you, the closer you get to your orgasm. Not only that, but his wet tongue feels heavenly in you —he knows your body like the back of his hands, and knows exactly what and where to touch.

“I’m all yours,” he coos, sucking on your throbbing clit and making your body jolt forward. “Are you all mine?”

“Yes!” you gasp without thinking it twice, feeling your orgasm approaching. “I’m all yours, Jae”.

Jaemin smiles against your pussy. He knows you’re close, judged by how you’re curling your toes and your body is becoming stiff. He can faintly taste your orgasm, and he isn’t going to stop until you’re coming all over his face, letting him know how good he is making you feel.

At the same time, he’s desperate to come too. You’re so made for each other, that he could just get off to the taste and sound of you —many times he has reached his orgasm untouched, just by pleasuring you. He fears tonight might be one of those days, but he’s trying hard to control himself.

“You’re about to come,” he tells you. It’s not a question, nor an assumption. Jaemin knows you’re seconds away from your high, he can feel it just as if your bodies are one. “Come for me”.

He has you weak. Everything about him makes you feel weak, and you can’t help yourself but do exactly as he tells you. He holds that much power over your body, and you’ve known it for a while now.

“Baby!” you gasp one more time, burying your head against the mattress while you try your best to remain in your position. The pleasure is too overwhelming to complete such a task, but Jaemin’s tight grip around your thighs and ass makes it easier for you.

“I know,” he murmurs, his silky voice feeling like a breath of fresh air in the midst of the overstimulating sensations. “It feels good, hm?”

You nod frantically, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes. It feels too good.

“Come, baby,” Jaemin encourages you, keeping you in place by hooking his arms around you. “Let me taste you”.

The way he grips and massages your ass, paired with the feeling of his lips against your core and the filthy words that are falling carelessly from his mouth, you finally reach your anticipated orgasm.

Your boyfriend tastes every single drop of it, and the lewd noises he makes against your throbbing pussy do nothing but increase your own arousal. You’ve always loved how messy and passionate Jaemin can get, and tonight it’s no exception.

“Shit- baby!” He gives you no time to overcome your orgasm, and continues eating you out until your body becomes limp. You have no strength on your arms or knees whatsoever, but you still manage to stay in place helped by Jaemin's grip on you. The pleasure it’s becoming too much, but you don’t want him to stop.

Not at all.

“That’s it,” Jaemin coos, smiling in victory when he’s done licking you clean.

He can’t spend another minute without being inside of you, and you’re weakly swaying your hips letting you know that you want him just as much as he wants you, so he loses no time before discarding his clothes to the floor.

“Baby,” you murmur, shifting your position on the mattress slightly. However, he’s quick to stop you.

“Wait,” Jaemin holds your hips firmly, making you stay still in the position you’re in —knees and palms against the mattress, on all fours with your back arched and your ass up for him. “Let me fuck you like this,” he tells you, and you can pick up the neediness of his voice. He’s desperate to come too, and he wants to do so with you. “Let me see how you swallow me full”.

You love watching him fuck you, but you can’t refuse —you know how much he loves this position and the best part is that he is very vocal about it. So you do as you’re told, and fix your body on the mattress.

It takes him barely a couple of seconds before you feel his hands guiding your hips all the way to his erected cock, the tip of it rubbing against your slit while coating himself with your wetness. You’re more than ready to take him, and he slides right in so easily that it makes him grunt.

“You’re so- tight, and warm” he hisses as he bottoms out, feeling his pubis hitting against your ass.

“Yeah?” you ask, doing your best to bear the painful stretch. He prepared you well, but the very first seconds are always uncomfortable until your walls get used to his girth.

“And you look- so good from this angle,” Jaemin praises you, and you smile. “God you’re so- I love how your ass looks while you’re taking me in your pussy”.

You sway your hips just a little, and that single motion makes him lose his mind for a while. He loves how good your ass looks, how it feels when he grips it with both his hands. He also loves to fuck you from behind and see how it bounces against his cock.

It’s such a pleasant view.

“Fuck me,” you plea, fucking yourself on his cock just slightly.

Any other day, Jaemin would love for you to take control and fuck yourself on him. But right now, he’s too desperate to feel you.

He places both of his hands on your hips and starts pounding himself inside you. He does so slowly at first, but the needier he got, the faster he starts to fuck you.

“Can you feel me?” Jaemin asks with hitched words, biting his lower lip to prevent being too loud. “Can you feel how hard you fucking make me?”

You cry both at his words and the feeling of his cock ramming inside of you. He’s going so deep, and particularly fast, that it gives you no time to respond.

“I can’t control myself when I’m around you,” he confesses through gritted teeth, leaning down to pepper a couple of kisses on your naked back. “You’re so- hot, can’t keep my hands off of you”.

There’s something enticing about how Jaemin looks at you, about how you always catch him staring at your body at any given situation. You love how he always checks you out, how he sneakily spanks your ass while you pass by him in a public place. You love how much he likes your body, and how good he makes you feel about it.

No one has adored your body as much as he does.

“I’m all yours,” you tell him, feeling the tension starting to unravel in your lower tummy. You guide one of your hands to your throbbing clit and start rubbing it almost at the same pace as his thrusts.

Jaemin can feel how hard you’re clenching around him, how your walls are squeezing him tight, begging for his release. He knows you’re close too, again, by how wet you’re getting.

So why wait? The whole night is ahead of you, and he still has the needed stamina to fuck you in every single position he knows, so he doesn’t want to waste any more time before coming with you.

“I’m close,” he sighs, closing his eyes and kicking his head back. You feel heavenly around you, but he wants to come with you.

At the same time if possible.

“I’m too-” you cry, feeling drool spilling from your mouth and staining the bed sheets.

“Come with me,” his voice and breath are shaky, his thrusts are getting sloppier and the lewd noises coming out of his mouth get louder with each second that passes by. You know he is also close, so you decide to give in.

“Won’t hold it-” you warn him, gripping the bed sheets while you do your best to stay still. “Fuck, baby- I’m-”.

You don’t have to tell him you’re coming because he is feeling it. He can feel your walls spasming, he can see your whole body trembling and he can hear how you chant his name over and over again.

It takes him one last look to your body fucking itself into his cock to come undone, all for you. The sight of your arse pressing against him, and his hand groping the flesh of it it’s what pushes him to the highest point of his arousal.

He loves to touch you and grope you like your body belongs to him, knowing that no one else gets to feel your body like this. He loves how perfect you are, how each part of your body drives him insane.

He loves everything about you, and the adoration he holds for you is equal to the lust and desire he feels towards you.

Jaemin comes inside you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear from behind. He fills your pussy up to the brim, until it is leaking.

“Fuck,” he sighs as he manages to overcome his high. He’s breathing loudly and heavily, his throat feels dry and his head dizzy. Jaemin is still feeling the ravages of his orgasm, from the tip of his toes to his crotch.

It’s an overwhelming feeling he adores, and one he can only achieve when he is with you.

“Thank you,” you finally tell him when he plops down onto the bed. You lay right beside him, not caring that his arousal is leaking out of you. For a reason, it feels too intimate.

“For what?” Jaemin asks with a weak smile, turning to face you.

“For all your words,” you return the smile. “You always make me feel attractive, beautiful”.

Jaemin pulls your body close to him, until your head rests at the top of his naked chest. Then, he places a kiss on top of your forehead.

“You are attractive, and beautiful,” he sighs, hugging you tightly. “Perfect, even”.

Author's note: I hope you enjoy this one! I apologize if I fucked up the grammar or spelling, english is not my first language and I haven't proofread this so I hope it's okay! This is my first drabble/story here, and I'm very happy to share it with you. Please, if you enjoy it, leave a comment or a reblog. It would mean the fucking world to me istg. Love you all!

[slut4thebroken]

Name Your Price

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer x escort!reader

Summary | He has too much money for his own good lol.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, sex work, face fucking, deep throating, doggy, light spanking lol, humiliation, lots a degradation, a sprinkle of praise, our man is needy and whiny.

Words | 3.4 k

Notes | Imagine that gif is him looking at you on your knees heheh

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Your usual clientele are definitely in a higher tax bracket than most people, but you’ve never been with someone as rich as Robert Fischer. The second he had you literally sign an NDA you looked him up, seeing that he was next in line to take over his father’s business. That’s when it all started to make sense. Usually men pay to take you out, show you off, and then more often than not, fuck you. But Robert made it clear from the start that he wasn’t interested in those services you offer. He just wanted to fuck you, and he wanted to do it discreetly. 

He bought a hotel room for the night and paid for your ride here, as well as the clothes he requested you wear. What would’ve normally pissed you off if he were paying the usual price would’ve been how nit picky he was. He told you exactly how to do your hair and make up, where to shave and where not to shave, even down to you fucking perfume— it just had to be something sweet like vanilla. You were glad that all of the details were discussed over the phone because you would’ve rolled your eyes and laughed in his face at all of his demands.

He also told you exactly how to act— submissive, obedient, subservient. You’re not normally that kind of submissive, but, again, you agreed simply because of the money. 

Staring at the clock on the nightstand, your foot bounced incessantly as you waited for him. You’ve never been this nervous for a client. He’s paying you so much money… what if you fuck something up? It was almost ironic that your overthinking was putting you into the headspace he requested. 

At 8:59, you moved down to the floor and waited on your knees with your head down, like he requested. Your heart pounded in your chest from the anticipation and it took everything you had to keep your head down when you heard the door open. 

Even though you’re used to fucking ugly, old men, you prayed Robert would be an exception, but you knew that being hot on top of how much he was paying you would be too good to be true. He sounded decently young on the phone, but you still had no indication on whether or not he’s actually attractive. You heard him walking somewhere in the room, then glass clinking, then a drink being poured. 

“Less than a minute in and you’ve already disobeyed me.” He said calmly, making your heart drop. How?? You haven’t even done anything yet! He answered your silent question for you. “Hands behind your back.” You immediately complied, feeling a little dumb for forgetting something so simple. “You’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood tonight since I’m assuming you’d prefer to leave here with the agreed upon amount?” You weren’t sure if his question was rhetorical or not. He let out a soft sigh and you heard his footsteps before he landed in front of you. 

“Answer me.” 

“Yes, sir. I do prefer that..” When you saw his hand moving forward you almost moaned at the sight of just his fingers. But your chance to admire them went far too quickly when he placed a single digit under your chin and tilted your head up. Your eyes widened and your breath caught in your throat when you saw his face. You figured there was a small chance he might be attractive, but you didn’t actually think he’d be down right gorgeous. You bit your lip as your gaze trailed all over his face, taking in every inch. 

“Did you do everything I instructed?” He released your chin and took a sip of his drink, still staring down at you. 

“Yes, sir.” It felt like you were still in shock, just from seeing his face. 

“Good. The dress looks nice.” You couldn’t help but blush at the compliment. 

“Thank you.” 

“Stand up.” You did as he said, then waited for the next instruction. “Give me a spin. I want to see if it was money well spent.” You blushed, but turned around for him. “Slower.” He suddenly said, making you freeze, then continue at a slower pace. He hummed in appreciation and you could practically feel his eyes running over every inch of you. When you were facing him again, you waited, watching as he downed the rest of his drink then walked over to the table to set it down. You didn’t move, not sure if you were allowed to or not, and he sat down in the arm chair, then cleared his throat. 

“Show me the underwear.” You slowly lifted the dress until it was resting around your waist, exposing the lacy panties. “Come here.” You walked over and stood in front of him, trying to keep your breathing steady when he gently placed his hands on your thighs and snaked them up to your hips. He used his grip to turn you around, then moved one hand to grope your ass. You let out a surprised moan at the sudden spank and he hummed in approval again. 

“Very good.” You had to swallow down a whine when his hands abruptly left your body. “Face me and get on your knees.” His eyes moved up and down your body, taking you in again as you did what he said. “Remove my shoes.” You reached toward his feet, but he stopped you. “Carefully. Just one of those is worth double what I’m paying you.” You nodded and gently untied the laces of his dress shoes before slipping them off his feet and placing them neatly on the ground beside the chair. 

“Should I fuck your mouth? Or should I just get right to fucking your cunt.” You were mostly sure he was talking to himself and not actually asking you. He has you for two hours, so he has time for both. He seemed to finally come to a decision and he leaned back in the chair, staring down at you. “Be a good girl and show me how that lipstick looks on my cock.” He suddenly said, making arousal pool in your stomach. 

“Yes, sir.” You squeezed your thighs together to relieve a little bit of the ache as you worked on opening his pants. Once his belt was unbuckled and his pants were unzipped, you pulled them and his underwear down just enough to free his length since he didn’t lift up to let you take them fully off. You stroked him slowly, marveling at how big he felt in your hand, even just half hard. 

“Did I tell you to give me a hand job?” He asked impatiently. 

“N-no, sorry…” You swallowed thickly and leaned closer to start mouthing at the tip. Your hand remained unmoving on the base just to keep it steady. He let out a pleased sigh as you suckled on the head of his cock, being sure to lick up any precum. 

“Go on, whore. Let’s see if you’re worth what I’m paying.” You blushed as the crude name and squeezed your thighs together even tighter. Not wanting to make him get even more impatient, you started bobbing up and down his cock, keeping your tongue flat against the underside as you hallowed your cheeks. You moved your hand down to cup his balls as you took him a little deeper. When he let out a heavy breath and gently grabbed your hair, you looked up at him. You continued the same pace, sometimes flicking your tongue over the tip when you went up. After a while though, he huffed and tightened his grip on your hair.  

“Are you one of those whores who can’t deepthroat? Because I don’t think I should be paying full price for a shitty blowjob.” You immediately took the hint and went down until he reached the back of your mouth. After taking a deep breath, you pushed the rest of the way, breaching your throat barrier. You focused mostly on stimulating his balls as you stayed buried on his cock for as long as you could take it. Only a few seconds later, you were pulling off, gasping in breaths and trying to calm down to do it all again. You took him in your mouth again, not stopping until he was buried in your throat. 

“You can do better than that, whore.” He started moving you up and down his cock, forcing it down your throat with each bob of your head. It wasn’t long before you were choking and sputtering as tears filled your eyes. When he pulled you off, you coughed, but didn’t have a chance to collect yourself before he was pushing your face against his balls. You whimpered at the degrading act, trying to ignore the feeling of his spit soaked cock resting on your face. 

When he tightened his grip on your hair and pushed you into him harder, you started mouthing at his balls. You licked and sucked, pushing down the embarrassment to focus on making him feel good. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to do this, but it is the first time you weren’t completely disgusted by it. Robert kept himself well groomed and you found yourself getting even needier despite how dirty and used you felt. 

Once he’d had enough, he pulled you back and forced you down on his cock again, all but impaling your throat with how fast and hard he did it. You gagged instantly, but he ignored it and started using your mouth the same way he would a fleshlight. On a particularly harsh thrust, you let out a strangled whimper and the tears in your eyes began to fall. 

“Stop fucking whining.” He spat. It almost seemed like he started going faster simply because of how much you were struggling to take it. Your hands grabbed his thighs, digging your fingers into the covered skin, and he used his free hand to slap your cheek. “Hands behind your back.” He scolded and you hesitated, but eventually obeyed. The next time he forced you all the way down, he held you there, keeping a firm grip on your hair to prevent you from moving. 

“Stick your tongue out.” You did your best to do what he said. “Good girl. Lick my balls.” You let out a strangled sob at the utterly vulgar and degrading order. Regardless, you stuck your tongue out farther and did your best to lick them. “Look at me.” Your teary eyes fluttered up to meet his gaze and he let out a breathy groan at the sight. “No waterproof mascara, just like I said.” He said almost proudly as he used his free hand to cup your cheek and brush his thumb over what you assumed were mascara tracks. 

When you started gagging and sputtering and trying to pull off, he let go of your hair, letting you move back. You coughed lightly and cleared your throat, doing your best to collect yourself somewhat quickly. 

“On the bed. Face down, ass up.”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice was already hoarse. You stood up on shaky legs, feeling unstable in your too high heels, and walked over to the bed to kneel on it. He remained sitting on the chair, watching you closely. When you leaned down to rest your head and chest on the bed, a light blush tinted your cheeks. 

“Arch your back.” You could faintly hear wet noises and the knowledge that he was jerking off just to the sight of you almost had you moaning and squirming. You arched your back, but he still wasn’t satisfied. “More. Spread your legs apart.” You shuffled your knees out and bent your back even more, starting to feel the strain and discomfort. When he didn’t respond, you assumed he was happy with the position. 

“Do you always get this wet when you're working?” His tone was far too innocent for the vulgar question he asked. Your blush darkened even more once you realized that your arousal was already soaking the fabric of your underwear. 

“No, sir..”

“Speak up.” He snapped. 

“No, sir.” You said again, a little louder this time. 

“Is it the money that turns you on?” His voice was closer now, like he was standing at the foot of the bed. 

“No.” Even though the money definitely helped, it was primarily because of him. 

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you tell me what it is that’s getting you all worked up then.” With the way that he spoke, you could tell he already knew and just wanted to tease you about it. 

“You, sir.” 

“Me? What about me?” You hated the way that he was playing dumb like this, but you mostly hated the fact that it turned you on. 

“Y-your cock… And the things you do and say to me.” This was almost more humiliating than sucking on his balls with his cock laying heavy on your face. You felt the bed dip as he presumably kneeled behind you. 

“You want my cock?” 

“Please, sir.” You tried not to whine when you spoke. 

“I’m not entirely convinced you really want it.” You couldn't swallow down the whine this time. 

“Please, sir. I want your cock.” You begged, unconsciously pushing your hips back. “Please fuck me,” You jumped when you felt his hands on your ass, then moaned loudly when he ripped a hole in the crotch of your underwear. “Please— I need you to fuck me, sir.” You whined. 

“That’s better.” You gasped when the head of his cock dragged through your folds, spreading your arousal. He finally pushed in and you fisted the sheets as your lips parted in a silent moan. He’s just so fucking big. It’s not that you can’t take it, it’s just that he’s filling every part of you perfectly, satisfying every craving you have. 

“Fuck— Oh fuck,” You moaned, burying your face in the bed to muffle your sounds. Once his hips were flush with your ass, he didn’t bother giving you a chance to adjust before starting a slow pace. 

“You’re pretty tight for a whore.” He commented casually, making you sob out a moan. You’ve never particularly liked being called a whore, but for some reason when he says it, you just just get infinitely more turned on. “I half expected I’d need to fuck your ass instead.” He said amusedly. 

“Sir,” You gasped out, arching your back more and pushing your hips toward him. “Please.” 

“Please?” 

“Please go faster, or harder— anything.” You begged pathetically. You’ve never genuinely begged a client for something like this.  

“I didn’t know I was paying you to make demands.” You whined, a little too bratty for his liking based on the way he slapped your ass hard enough to leave it stinging for a few seconds. “You’re not some girl I picked up and took home. You’re my whore for the night. Fucking act like it.” You couldn’t help but mewl at his words. 

“I-I’m sorry. You just feel so good, sir.” All of a sudden, his hand was grabbing your hair and pulling your head back until you were looking at the ceiling. You held yourself up with your hands on the bed, but the position was still uncomfortable. 

“Every time you talk back, you lose a hundred.” He warned, making you whine. “That includes whining.” He spanked you again with his free hand and you cried out at the sting. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes! Yes, sir, I understand.” As soon as you got the words out, he shoved your head forward and released your hair. Your face landed against the bed with a startled grunt that cut off into a moan when he sped up. He was still going far too slow, but you bit your lip to keep yourself from whining or begging. 

“Even as a whore you’re fucking useless.” He scoffed. You let out a choked sob and grabbed the sheets harder. He sped up even more, forcing out little grunts and whimpers from you with each thrust. You ached to reach a hand down to your clit, but you knew you couldn’t. Not after his warning about “making demands.”

“Fuck— I’m already close.” You couldn’t help but notice how pretty his voice sounded as he continued becoming more and more breathless from the pleasure. 

“Remember to pull out.” You said, breaking character for a moment. On the phone, when he asked if you had any rules or limits, the only thing you said was that he can’t come inside. You don’t care if he fucks you raw, just so long as he pulls out. With a frustrated growl, he flipped you onto your back, immediately pushing back in to keep fucking you. 

“How much?” He leaned over you, his face level with yours. The feeling of his breath fanning your lips was making it hard to think. 

“What?” You asked dumbly. 

“To come inside. How much?” His pace was becoming even more frantic and he was beginning to pant heavily from the exertion. 

“Robert…” 

“Name your price. What do you want? Ten grand?” Your eyes widened at his offer. “Fifteen?” There’s no way he’s being serious right now. When he noticed your disbelief, he paused, then reached in his pants pocket to pull out his wallet and toss it on the bed next to you. When your disbelief turned into confusion, he explained. “A down payment.” His thrusts picked back up again, forcing a moan out of you as he resumed the unrelenting pace. “Well?” You glanced at the wallet, seeing how much cash was inside, then let out a heavy breath. 

“Fuck— fine. Fine.” You could immediately see the shift in his expression, showing how pleased he was with your answer. 

“Good girl. I might just have to hire you again.” He grinned at the thought and you felt your stomach fill with butterflies. “Now why don’t you be a good little whore and beg me to fill you up.” His grin turned into a smirk and he started fucking you even more desperately somehow. 

“Please fill me up. I want your come, sir.” You whined, back arching up into him. Despite your rule, part of you was being truthful. The thought of him fucking his come into your needy, abused hole was enough to make you clamp down on his cock, forcing a choked moan out of him. “Please!”

Without another word, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and rutted into you until he finally fell over the edge. He grunted with each snap of his hips, his panting breaths feeling hot against your neck. You squeezed around his cock again, wanting to make it as pleasurable for him as possible. Based on his low moan, it was working. 

He finally stilled and his sounds quieted into heavy breathing as he put some of his weight on you, letting himself rest without actually crushing you. Even though you were submissive enough right now to mostly only care about his pleasure, part of you was still disappointed that you wouldn’t get a chance to come on his cock. 

When his breathing calmed down, he lifted himself up to sit on his knees and slowly dragged out. He pushed your legs up, so you took the initiative and held them close to your chest for him. At the first sight of his come trickling out of you, he released a contented groan. 

“Fuck… Fifteen it is.” He said through a breath. Your holes fluttered as you pushed out more of his come, making him curse under his breath. “Take off the fucking dress before I rip it off and make you go home nude.” He threatened, making you instantly release your legs and scramble to take it off. He ripped your underwear clean off your body, then flipped you onto your stomach. 

“What are you doing?” You gasped, when he straddled your thighs and lined his cock up with your hole again. 

“I paid for two hours. I’m not stopping until I either run out of time, or run out of come.” You choked on your spit at his words, feeling too flustered to figure out how to respond. Before you could even attempt to just think of something to say, he was pushing back in, ridding your head of all thoughts except for him and his cock. 

When you woke up the next day, you saw that he had transferred the original price, plus fifteen thousand. You blinked rapidly and rubbed your eyes, thinking that you read it wrong in your sleepy state, but the number was clear as day. As was the memo reading: You’ll hear from me again soon. 

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @theoraekenslover @kaorisakamotofan @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @cillianscrybaby @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend @bernelflo @milktert @nyxxie.pooh @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @bluujaiwrites @crunchsworld @madeinuk

[etherynn]

— Most Beautiful Someone

pairings : mike schmidt ✗ fem!reader

word count : 1.9k

summary : in which you discover something shocking yet beautiful of one of mike’s features.

genre / contains : FLUFF, so much love and adoration for mike ( as he deserves ! ) kissing, cuddling, very minor cussing, maybe some slight repetitive things - if so I apologize in advance— but I think das it—

author’s note : hi there ! this is my first fic of mike schmidt (while another is currently on the works—) but anyways, I would really love to hear ( well read —) what you thought about this, and I hope you enjoy ! <33

You, from the moment you laid eyes on him, had the surface of Mike’s face etched within your mind.

The shape of his brows, the outline of his gaze, the narrowness of his perfect nose, the curves of his mouth, the structure of his jawline, the stubble accentuating his skin.

Every furrow and frown, every twitch and spasm, every scrunch and flare, every curve and pout, every lock and movement, every feel and scratch, every freckle and wrinkle.

You cataloged and analyzed his every lineament, leaving no part unseen nor unloved. From the features upon him to the ones within and deeply hidden – flawed yet so utterly and devastatingly beautiful in your perspective, and no one could ever tell you otherwise.

Yet you’d recently made a shocking revelation. One that had occurred one late night, for you remember perfectly how the moonlight seeping through his curtains illuminated his pretty face and how you just couldn’t get enough of him as he was with you.

It’d occurred when your palms had cradled the exterior of his jaw, pads of your thumbs brushing the corners of his mouth as they hoisted into the brightest of smiles he’s ever gifted you with. The frigidness of the silver aligned around your digits produced a sensation oddly soothing enough for the skin below his bristles, pressing every so gently with every stroke upon his cheeks.

His dark locks – usually disheveled and grim with sweat from all his hard work – carried an aromatic scent, thick strands curling around the crown of his head in a way that gave him a light stroke of a boyish look. It was a look that you could not simply brush aside, murmuring teasing but soft remarks which he could only chuckle sheepishly at, cheeks flushing at your words.

And his breaths – deep from within his lungs and exhaled in such a leisured way – fanned across your skin when he’d shift himself forward to softly kiss you.

“I’m very happy right now.” You breathed serenely, cheek nudging to the side of his nose while he bore deeper into your form, a single finger of his brushing along the refined line of your collarbone before retreating.

“Yeah?” You could feel the corners of his mouth elevate against the apple of your cheek, your smile brightening while giving him a nod.

The pads of your digits skim across his skin, luminous under the sphere’s light.

His hands – adapted but so warm, so perfectly fitting upon your every curve – were touching you in the purest way, palms rested above your hips, thumbs stroking the clothed flesh there while his digits rested slightly near the sides of your lower back, occasionally pushing against your skin – aching to keep any space between you both closed. He’d been absorbing every moment and basking in every touch you gifted him, whiskey brown eyes observing, admiring you as he always does.

Or what you had thought were whiskey brown eyes.

The tints of his faint freckles somehow became more conspicuous under the light, and so did the color of his so-called brown eyes.

His lashes, a very subtle curl within their edges, had been the curtain their color had seeped through. A shade of green you caught, a flicker of yellow that sparkled. That was until his eyelids hid them, closing for a few seconds as he released soft breaths while relaxing into you.

For a moment you thought yourself delusional, bewildered, possibly even wasted on something somewhat similar to an alcoholic beverage. Intoxicated by your very own drug, Mike Schmidt.

It was laughable almost, the way you had tensed, not batting an eye, heartbeat coming to a halt at the ‘false knowledge’. And perhaps you would’ve if it weren’t for them coming to view once more, shining more vividly than you’d seen them the first time.

Your eyes darted between his, a glower narrowing your gaze before humming deliberately.

His mouth – lusciously pink and gaining a suppleness from every sweet mold pressured against yours – twisted into a smile. “What is it, doll?”

Another hum rumbled up your throat, a quiver he felt so profoundly as he laid upon you, chin atop your chest. He chuckled softly when your lips pursed, neck craning forward to the point where the tip of your nose brushed up the bridge of his, a soft eupna aerating over the outline of his upper lip, and this he absorbed as if it was his breath of fresh air.

While he bathed in the close proximity you both shared in this moment, there was a perplexity rising in him at your slight … eccentric behavior, to say the least.

“...Y/N?”

“Your eyes.”

“What ?”

“Your eyes,” You repeated, a bit more louder, finger reaching out and very lightly brushing along the bottom edge of his eye, lower lashes greeting your skin with a butterfly kiss. “-aren’t brown.”

This he furrowed his brows at, chin jutting out while his mouth twisted into what could be described as a reproving grin. “What’re you talking about? My eyes are brown.”

“Yeah, when light isn’t near them.” You corrected, squinting even harder to continue your inspection. A narrow ring of gold brimmed around his pupils, a prominent twinkle given from the moon’s bright glow. It brought out a moss-like green hue, whiskey brown enhancing their richness. “There is a bit of brown in them though…but not entirely. They’re kinda green.”

You knew how clear, almost translucent his orbs had been. You had seen him in every shine of light except the night's nature. It was avowed to say you have not had a full, open schedule to always be together, moments always scurried, trying to soak in as much as you could. But you always admired, always assured him it was okay and for that very reason, his love for you seemed to swell tenfold.

Your words were breathless, expression astonished and your hands fell to the bed, trying to take it in. You smiled widely when his eyes held wide and open for you to continue looking into them. “A-are you sure?”

Laughter bubbled up your throat, hands finding their place on his cheeks once more. “Yes, I am… in fact, I think they’re hazel.”

It was his turn to squint, giving you an almost dubious look but sort of…hopeful– before letting out a staggered scoff. “Hazel ? W — no I have to see this–” He was quick to rise off you but not before twisting in your hold and placing a swift kiss to your palm.

You watched in amusement as he rushed to pick up a small mirror he had placed on his desk, watching from behind how his thumb rose to stretch his eyelid up. He blinked numerous times, then bulged his eyes out, then blinked some more.

“I have green eyes.” His words were soft and even but they laced with astonishment.

You brought a hand to your mouth, curling it into a fist and coughed into it, “Hazel.”

Mirth shimmered your face whenever he turned back at you, a goofy grin transforming his own. “I have hazel eyes.”

It was extraordinary, oddly terrifying even how strong and aching your love for him was. How with each new revelation coming to the surface only spiraled and intensified that love, even with the simplest of smiles. And somehow, as he finds his way back upon you, face centimeters away from yours, that current revelation of his hazel eyes illuminates the tones of his features, igniting the warmth and happiness of his expression.

And you just have to smile down at him as he cuddles himself into you – murmuring how he’s much cuter than Abby now and mentioning how his mother had green eyes so perhaps it’d make sense for him to inherit hazel eyes – because as you gazed at him with delight and love, hearing him speak with ease and openness when near you, one wouldn’t have ever suspected the past he’d had.

A most beautiful, strong human being you fell in love with. To have such a deterrent in one’s life as a young child and be able to course it no matter the struggle. “I’m so glad I found you,” You whispered, touching his cheek, “So glad you’re my most beautiful someone.”

His gaze softened, cheeks flushing at your words and a gold radiance warmed his vibrant depths as he stared up at you. Your lips were curved – imbuing that precious smile he’d thoroughly adored. The backs of his fingers stroked your cheeks, soon sliding them across the line of your jaw and down your neck.

His gaze stayed fixated on your face, noticing the faint tint of blush dusting your cheeks. It pleased him to feel, to know it was because of him.

You were some breath of fresh air, bursting into his life in all the middle of his estranged drawn out events— brash in all the right ways, kind when he needed, and far too soft to be tangled up in any of his troubles.

And while he tried keeping you away, trying to keep you from any taunt of his mess, he’s eternally grateful you didn’t.

He’d come to the terms already, that with the inexplicable revelation he beamed unconditionally like the most love-sick idiot on this planet, just for you. Every action and word uttered to existence was all because of the goodness you believed lied within him, and he was damn sure nothing could ever change that.

It was a rarity for him – to be perceived in so much affection, acceptance, love. To feel it channel so heartily, so essentially through you, enveloping him with it.

A tenderness he’d never felt or known before, until he found you.

His head shook, curls swaying at the action before hoisting himself forward until his forehead rested over yours. There was something unreadable that floated in his eyes, something gentle and so very fragile as he let himself ease into your touch.

Your palms cradled his jaw, feeling the tremors of it, hearing the deep inhales he took in. Your words had stirred his insides, and you’d quickly realized he didn’t know what to say, how to approach your declaration. And you didn’t force him, simply letting him know there was a strong ability in unspoken words. With that, he did nothing other than let a breath caress your mouth before puncturing a kiss.

Soft, sweet. He was very gentle with you, but it was Mike, always so desperate, so touch-starved when he was being consumed by your frame, your jittering breaths, the grasp of hands and lips, your very love.

With one final brush of his smiling lips, one final shimmer of colorful eyes thanks to nature’s glow, he let his head tuck beneath your chin, nose nuzzling over the column of your throat before letting his cheek fall upon your chest.

You love him unconditionally — there’s no hesitation in those words. But you loved him even more when in this state. Free to hold, free to express, free of worries, free of the past. It was easy to forget that he was a simple human soul with flaws, wrapped in a chaos he had no fault over and yet found himself in distress so very often.

Yet you offered him something he had not felt in a long time. Peace. Like a river that has been rushing, pulled by the currents for too long, cycling through many untamed and unpredictable storms. You made his waters still. You would like to think that perhaps the temporary end to Mike’s storm inhabit in your arms, soul entwining in your heartbeat.

And you're not sure your heart has never felt like this before — so molten hot, valves working overtime, ribbons of affection tightening across your chest. You’re certain they’d leave scorch marks, revelations of your bleeding heart that pulses with each beat just for Mike.

And though you continued to unravel wonderous revelations of your love for Mike, one was certain ; Mike was your most beautiful someone and that will never falter.

[thenaughtynorth]

Breaking judgment, part II

Part I

Two weeks after the fallout with The Judgment Day, the reader and Damian Priest can’t escape the tension between them.

Damian Priest x female reader

Warnings: Our boy yearns. Non-graphic, but implied smut. 18+

Word count: Approximately 2,100

———

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since the night Damian Priest had stayed in your hotel room, watching over you after your fallout with The Judgment Day. Two weeks of working side by side, plotting your next moves against Finn and his crew, pretending that things between you and Damian hadn’t shifted.

But they had.

Every glance lingered too long. Every touch—even accidental—sparked like a live wire. Every conversation was charged, as if the air between you had become thicker, harder to breathe. And now, in the quiet darkness of your hotel room, it was all you could think about.

You turned onto your side, staring at the glowing red digits of the clock. 2:17 a.m. Sleep wasn’t coming—not when your mind kept replaying the way Damian’s voice had dropped that night, the way he’d confessed that he cared about you, the way he’d been so close.

The tension between you had been suffocating ever since, and you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to see him, even if it meant crossing a line you weren’t sure you could come back from.

Throwing off the covers, you slid out of bed and quickly pulled on a hoodie over your tank top and shorts. Quietly, you slipped into your sneakers, tying the laces with shaking fingers. You didn’t even know what you were going to say to him—maybe you just needed to see him, to reassure yourself that whatever was happening between you wasn’t all in your head.

You opened your door, stepping into the hallway—only to nearly collide with Damian, standing right outside your room.

“Damian?” you whispered, startled.

He was dressed in his usual all-black, his hair loose around his shoulders, and the look on his face was enough to steal the breath from your lungs. His eyes were dark, his expression tense, like he’d been pacing outside your door for hours.

“You couldn’t sleep either,” he said, his voice low and rough. It wasn’t a question.

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “What are you doing out here?”

Damian dragged a hand through his hair, letting out a sharp breath. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice edged with frustration. “I just… I couldn’t stay in my room anymore. Not when all I could think about was you.”

Your heart skipped, your pulse hammering in your ears. “Damian…”

He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you in the dim hallway light. “I told myself to stay away,” he continued, his voice deepening, raw with emotion. “But it’s impossible. Every time I close my eyes, you’re there. Every time I try to focus, it’s your voice I hear. It’s driving me insane.”

Your breath hitched as he took another step, closing the distance between you. His presence was overwhelming, his intensity pulling you in.

“I tried to let it go,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, his frustration giving way to something softer but no less powerful. “But I can’t. I see you, and it’s like nothing else matters. I can’t stop wanting you.”

His hand came up, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. His touch was surprisingly gentle for someone so strong, but there was a tension in his movements, as if he were holding himself back. “I know I shouldn’t feel this way,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “But I do. I want you, and I don’t know how to stop.”

The air between you was suffocating, thick with tension and longing. Your body ached to close the distance, to feel the things you had both left unsaid.

“Say something,” Damian said, his voice cracking with desperation. “Tell me I’m not the only one feeling this.”

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling. “You’re not,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’ve been thinking about you too, Damian. Every single day. But I didn’t know how to tell you.”

His hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm yet careful, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said, his tone almost a growl. “Show me.”

Before you could process his words, he pushed you gently but firmly against the doorframe, his body pressing against yours. His scent surrounded you—leather, cologne, and something undeniably him. You gasped at the contact, your hands instinctively gripping his hoodie to steady yourself.

“Tell me to stop,” Damian murmured, his lips hovering just inches from yours. His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “If you don’t want this, say the word, and I’ll walk away. But if you do…” He trailed off, his voice dropping into something darker, something that sent heat pooling in your chest.

You didn’t tell him to stop.

Instead, you pulled him down to you, crashing your lips into his. The kiss was instant, explosive—an outlet for every emotion you’d been holding back. His lips were hot and demanding against yours, moving with a passion that made your head spin.

Damian groaned low in his throat, one hand tangling in your hair while the other rested on your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat of his body against yours was overwhelming, and you felt the tension in him, the way he struggled to stay controlled even as his hands tightened their grip.

Your back pressed harder into the door as the kiss deepened, his tongue parting your lips and drawing a needy gasp from you. Every movement was deliberate, desperate, like he was pouring everything he couldn’t say into the way his mouth claimed yours. His hips pressed into yours, and the friction made both of you moan into the kiss.

When you finally pulled away for air, you were both panting, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady your breathing. His hands still held you, one at your waist and the other cupping your cheek.

“Two weeks,” Damian said, his voice rough and breathless. “Two weeks of wanting to do that.”

You laughed softly, the sound shaky but genuine. “Worth the wait?” you asked, your hands still clutching the fabric of his hoodie.

“More than you’ll ever know,” he said, his lips brushing yours again in a softer, lingering kiss that made your knees weak.

Without thinking, you grabbed the front of his hoodie and pulled him toward you, pressing your body firmly against his as you tugged him into your room. The door clicked shut behind you with a soft thud, cutting off any escape from the moment you both seemed to have created. He had followed you like a shadow.

Damian didn’t fight it. He stepped forward with you, his hands finding your waist, fingers digging into your skin with an urgency that made your breath catch. His lips crashed into yours again—hard, desperate—like he needed to prove something, to claim something that neither of you could say aloud.

You pulled back for a split second, your hands now trailing over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “Damian,” you breathed, your voice trembling as you looked up at him, searching his face for any hesitation.

He gave you none. His thumb traced the curve of your jaw, his breath hot against your lips. “I want this. I want you.” His voice was thick, rough with desire, and the words sent a wave of heat through your body.

Before you could respond, he moved again, his lips claiming yours with a deep, hungry kiss, the kind that left no room for hesitation or regret. His hands slid under your hoodie, skimming the skin of your back, pulling you closer to him as if he couldn’t get enough. The feel of his body against yours, strong and solid, made every thought scatter from your mind.

You gasped when he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips as his hands gripped your hips, pushing you backward toward the bed. Your legs hit the edge, but Damian kept you steady, lifting you up and placing you gently onto the mattress. His body hovered above yours, his hands framing your face as he stared down at you, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

“Are you sure — completely positive?” Damian asked, his voice low, a quiet intensity in his words as he searched your eyes for any sign of doubt. He was giving you the power, the choice.

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” you whispered, your hands tugging at his shirt, pulling him closer as you kissed him again. There was no turning back now.

Damian groaned in response, his body pressing closer, the weight of his desire evident as he kissed you deeper, his hands now trailing down your sides, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. Each movement was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring every second, every touch. He was pressing into you hard, very hard, and you involuntarily made a mental note of just how hard he was.

The tension between you two was almost unbearable—every kiss, every brush of his hand, the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world—it made your head spin.

You tugged at his shirt until he finally broke away from the kiss, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. Your eyes lingered on the broadness of his chest, the defined muscles of his arms, the dark ink of his tattoos, all of it making your pulse race.

He leaned down again, kissing you fiercely as he crawled over you, one hand supporting himself on the bed, the other caressing your body, tracing the curve of your waist. You were basically dry-humping each other, searching for any and all kinds of friction, but also wanting every second to last forever. His lips traveled down your neck, leaving hot, wet trails of sensation as his hands explored, and your breath hitched with every touch.

“Damian,” you gasped, your hands threading through his hair as his lips found that sensitive spot just beneath your ear.

He paused, lifting his head to look at you. “Tell me you want this, baby” he murmured, his voice thick with need.

Your heart pounded as you nodded, your chest rising and falling quickly. “I want you, Damian. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Damian’s expression softened, but only for a moment. Then, it was back to intensity, the heat between you both undeniable. He kissed you again, this time slower, more deliberate, like he was taking his time to savor the moment, to ensure that you both understood how far this had gone.

When his hands slid lower, you didn’t stop him. You welcomed it, every inch of him, feeling the heat of his body as he moved over you. Everything felt right, everything felt inevitable.

Damian pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was your need, matching his own. His lips curved into a smirk, but it was a smirk filled with something deeper, something raw. “This isn’t going to be easy to walk away from, you know.”

You pulled him back down, your hands threading through his hair again, urging him to kiss you harder, to take you in a way you both knew you’d never forget. “I don’t want to walk away,” you breathed, your body arching into his as the kiss deepened once more.

And there, in the quiet, dimly lit hotel room, with the weight of everything you both had been holding in for weeks, you crossed a new line. A line that neither of you could undo, a line that would change everything. No Judgment Day, no chaos—just Damian and the way he held you like you were the only thing that mattered. And for the first time in weeks, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[your-local-simp-writers]

A Byte of Affection

Word Count: 683

Warnings: None

Idia Shroud x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The morning light filtered through the high windows of the Ignihyde dormitory, casting a soft glow on the stainless steel surfaces of the kitchen. It was an early start, but excitement bubbled within you as you began the preparations for a special dish, one that you hoped would coax Idia Shroud out of his room and into the warmth of shared company.

Ortho, ever the eager helper, hovered nearby, his mechanical limbs whirring softly as he sorted through the ingredients. “Do you think Brother will like it?” he asked, his digital eyes blinking up at you with a mixture of hope and curiosity.

You chuckled, patting Ortho’s metallic arm reassuringly. “I’m sure he will. We’ll make it irresistible.”

Together, you and Ortho set to work, the kitchen becoming a hive of activity. Ortho, ever the helpful assistant, was meticulously organizing the ingredients, his digital display showing timers and recipes to ensure everything was prepared to perfection. You, with a practiced hand, were seasoning and tasting, adjusting the flavors to create a dish that would not only satisfy the taste buds but also warm the heart.

“Ortho, can you pass me the turmeric?” you asked, your hands busy kneading dough for the naan bread.

“Right away!” Ortho responded, quickly retrieving the spice and pouring out the exact amount needed.

The camaraderie between you was palpable, a seamless partnership that made the work feel more like play. You found yourself laughing more than once at Ortho’s attempts to mimic human expressions, his screen displaying various emojis to match his ‘mood’.

As the curry began to simmer, its spicy scent filling the air, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. This was more than just a meal; it was a bridge, a way to connect with the elusive Idia on a level beyond circuits and screens. 

As the dish neared completion, the aroma wafting through the dormitory corridors was enough to draw Idia out of his room—a feat that few could boast of achieving. He arrived in the kitchen with a cautious curiosity, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you and the simmering pot on the stove.

“Is that… for me?” Idia asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice as he took a tentative step forward.

“Yes,” you replied with a smile, “I thought you might enjoy a break from your screens with something homemade.”

Idia’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of blue, and he fidgeted with the hem of his jacket. “I… I don’t know what to say. No one’s ever…”

Before he could finish, Ortho interjected with his usual cheerfulness. “It’s going to be delicious! Y/N  has been working on it all day!”

You nodded, encouraging Idia to take a closer look. “Here, have a taste,” you offered, scooping a small sample onto a spoon and holding it out to him.

Idia hesitated, his usual shyness in social situations evident. But the enticing smell and your reassuring smile coaxed him closer. As he leaned in to take a bite, his eyes widened in surprise at the burst of flavors. It was as if you had captured the essence of Ignihyde’s innovative spirit in a single dish.

“It’s… incredible,” Idia managed to say, his voice filled with genuine awe.

Just then, a drop of curry threatened to escape, and you quickly placed your hand under his chin, catching it before it could stain his shirt. Idia looked up at you, his expression a mix of embarrassment and gratitude.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, clearly touched by your gesture.

You couldn’t help but smile, a bit flustered by the closeness, and replied, “It’s nothing, really. And I couldn’t have done it without Ortho’s help—he’s been amazing.”

Ortho’s screen lit up with a series of happy emojis, basking in the praise. “I’m always here to assist!” he chimed in, his digital voice filled with pride.

Idia glanced between you and Ortho, and for a moment, he seemed to be at a loss for words, his usual reticence giving way to a rare display of warmth. “Well, I… I appreciate it. Both of you.”

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Some Like It Sharp

You and professor Sharp became very close after the events of your fifth year at Hogwarts. Just how close is unspoken for a long time. Until it isn't.

I know I should be writing father Paul, but I started playing Hogwarts Legacy and became a little addicted. And then I went to potions class. I saw professor Sharp, in all his limping scarred glory and immediately thought 'Oh. Oh no...' And that was that.

EDIT: I MANAGED TO ADD SOME VOICELINES ON AO3

tw: age difference (reader is 17-18, which is of age in the wizarding world), student-teacher relationship, mentions of trauma (emotional and physical)

Some Like It Sharp 

(8.6k words)

You sighed deeply as your brow furrowed in concentration. Six finely crushed snake fangs soon disappeared in your cauldron. Momentarily, you lifted your eyes and gazed longingly at the person across the room from you. Professor Aesop Sharp was sitting at his round desk, a quill in his hand and a stack of third years’ essays in front of him. Every now and then, you could hear him utter a soft ‘tsk’, his dark hair bouncing as he shook his head. Even in his annoyance he was beautiful, you thought. Despite being a Slytherin, he reminded you of a lion, so strong and proud, not even his obvious limp was able to tarnish the image.

“Miss (L/N).” sounded right next to your ear, making you jump and turn your head towards the voice. Your wide startled eyes connected with professor Sharp’s own intense dark orbs. ‘When did he move?’ you thought, your heart in your throat.

“Miss, (L/N), I believe I asked you to brew a cure for boils. However, whatever concoction is currently in your cauldron looks more like it would cause them. Care to explain yourself?”

You hurriedly looked down at your cauldron and discovered the potion master was right. Instead of the orange hue the potion should have at this stage, it was a rather distasteful shade of swamp green. ‘How could this have happened?’

“Sir,” you began meekly, “I’m sorry, I don't know-... I think I got-”

“Distracted?” asked professor Sharp matter of factly, his voice lacking any sort of the annoyance it’d usually have. “Do tell, Miss (L/N),” he started circling around you like a predator, his lame leg not making the motion any less intimidating, “do you feel like my classes are so boring, or so easy, perhaps, that you can afford to daydream while ruining a first year potion?” 

Your eyes hadn't left him for a second. You shivered involuntarily. You were the only person in the classroom. ‘When did everyone leave?’ “No, sir, I- O-of course not, I-?”

A single long digit pressed against your slightly open mouth, effectively cutting your eloquent speech short. Sharp stood in front of you now, and you felt your cheeks turning red. You exhaled shakily. “Daydreaming in my class… I don’t think detention is enough of a punishment. Do you?” Sharp practically purred into your ear, his acute words said in an almost teasing manner. He was so close now, so close you felt his hot breath on your neck as he spoke, his forefinger replaced by his thumb on your mouth, and he pulled the lower lip down, opening your mouth further.

You couldn't speak, only able to stare at his mouth as he pulled back slightly to look at you. A small smile appeared on his face and he finally moved forward, sealing his mouth over your own and immediately pushing his tongue inside. You gasped, but almost right away threw your hands around his neck and succumbed to his bruising kiss.

“(F/N),” he sighed once you had to part for breath. You smiled at him and wanted to connect your lips once more. Only then -

“(F/N)! Come on, wake up, we’re going to be late for Transfiguration!” you heard someone call out.

“What?” you asked and looked around. You weren’t in the potions classroom, nor were you standing in professor Sharp’s embrace. You weren’t standing at all, actually. Your dormitory’s light blue walls appeared before your eyes, as well as an annoyed face of Samantha Dale.

—

"You are so lucky I forgot my homework upstairs!" panted Samantha, "Otherwise I would have gone straight to class after breakfast. And you'd still be asleep." You were pretty much running, not wanting to be late for professor's Weasley's class, yet you casted a grateful smile in Samantha's direction: "You are a lifesaver, Sam."

Samantha kept rambling on, as she usually did, but your mind was still focused on your dream.

You and professor Sharp had gotten particularly close during the past year and a half. Ever since your last battle with Ranrok, the potions master treated you a little differently. Most of the professors did, of course, but you found a sense of peace with Sharp especially. 

You missed professor Fig every day. He was something of a father figure for you nearly from day one, and you felt all sorts of broken watching him die in your arms. 

The first time professor Sharp invited you into his office outside of class, you felt strangely numb still, your exhaustion and grief leaving you with what felt like a hole in your heart. Some of the other professors sat you down before them previously, and you forced yourself to fake a little smile and persuade them that you were alright.

It didn’t work on Sharp. He didn’t pry, didn’t force you to relive the painful memories as you thought he would. Instead his chatter was nearly light, talking about your school work, hobbies, the various activities outside of the castle, even talking about himself every once in a while. Soon you realised you found solace in your conversations.

Only when you were given time to heal did you dare to actually talk about what happened that day… That year, really. Professor Sharp listened quietly, never pressing for details you weren’t ready to give, only asking for further explanation sometimes.

—

The first time you broke down in tears before him, he stood to limp over to you. With a steady warm hand on your shoulder, he conjured up a handkerchief and pressed it into your palm. You thanked him and tried to get yourself under control once more. He didn’t say anything, only drew small circles into your shoulder with his thumb.

After you left his office that evening, you realised just how hungry you were. It hit you by surprise, really, you hadn’t felt this hungry since that fateful day. You’d eat when it was meal time, but all food tasted the same to you. This evening, however, when you put some chicken with rice on your plate, you tasted every single spice used, the meat falling apart on your tongue. You groaned audibly and let your eyes close.

“Heh, good to see you getting your appetite back!” said Amit across from you, a sweet smile on his face. Your cheeks a little red in embarrassment, you smiled back at him before diving into your meal once more.

It struck you later that night as you were lying in your bed, staring into the darkness. Sharp knew exactly how to help you, because he knew what you were likely going through. All of the professors had their stories, some of them experienced loss as well, but only Sharp had ever gone through something as traumatic as yourself. Maybe he behaved towards you the way he would’ve wished someone behaved towards him before, back when his partner died on the job and he barely escaped with his life.

—

The next evening, you were back in his office. He accepted you wordlessly, curiously peeking at a small bag you brought with you. Inside of it were various rare ingredients you collected on your adventures or harvested in the Room of Requirement. The potions master took them with a quiet ‘thank you’ and that was that. He didn’t ask where you got them and how, knowing that as your teacher, he might not like your answer. But he was grateful, you knew. It didn’t need to be spoken in order to be understood.

Back when you first met him, you understood why some may find him intimidating, why he rubs them the wrong way. Sharp was strict, with a no-nonsense kind of attitude. He was hard on his students, and when he saw potential in them, he was even harder, striving for perfection. But the more time you spent with him, the more you saw the undeniable kindness within him. As cutting as his critique could be, his praises filled you with a great sense of pride and accomplishment. They pushed you to try even harder, to make him proud. 

Little by little, it began to make no sense to you why some students found him evil, or even outright foul. Professor Sharp was anything but evil and foul.

In a way, you expected him to become a parental figure to you as well, like professor Fig was. Only, he didn’t. It frightened you the first time you looked at him and caught yourself thinking that you’d like to press your palm against his cheek, feel his prickly looking stubble, trace the scar on his face. “Something the matter, miss (L/N)?” he asked with a lifted brow. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you hurriedly looked away, an apology leaving your mouth.

—

It got worse after that. You enjoyed spending time with him too much. You found he had a dark, dry sense of humour, that his wit was quicker than lightning and sharper than a knife, but also that he possessed a certain gentleness. You noticed his eyes would linger on your fondly when he thought you weren’t looking. It always made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

You knew that he liked to draw, having been in his private chambers when you were searching for those blasted demiguise statues (not that you’d ever tell him), but having him actually showing them to you felt strangely intimate. The passage through his fireplace you had to crawl through turned into a large doorway after he tapped it with the tip of his wand. He said he can’t always make it upstairs if the pain in his leg is too much, but he nevertheless enjoyed spending time there. You were fairly certain you were the first person he showed his work to. 

You saw a few drawings you didn’t recognise, as you hadn’t been to his chambers since - it was mostly parts of Hogwarts, a few scribbles of Hogsmeade as well. However, there was also a number of various paintings of beasts, hippogriffs, graphorns and such.  You smiled when he showed you, already knowing you wouldn’t be meeting in his chambers the next time.

—

His curiosity was obviously peaked, as he accepted your request to wait for you in the seventh floor corridor, by the troll tapestry. You winced slightly when you saw him leaning against the wall, the stairs obviously not doing anything for his leg. Yet, when he acknowledged your presence, you offered him a reassuring smile, hoping what you were about to show him would make it up to him.

He watched you pace three times in front of the tapestry, his brow raised in question. You grinned when his dark eyes widened at the sight of a door materialising seemingly out of nowhere. You opened it and entered. “Come in, sir,” you said, turning to face him. He hobbled over, his right hand twitching as if he wanted to reach for his wand. Always vigilant.

With no small amount of satisfaction, you watched as his mouth opened in surprise of your Room of Requirement, eyes trying to take in as much as they could, utterly disbelieving. His gaze was caught by a large potion station on one side of the room, directly next to a herbology table, where your various magical plants were currently being watered.

“Ah, you’re back,” came a high pitched voice from somewhere, “Deek thinks it’s almost time to harvest the mandrakes- oh, professor Sharp!” Without looking at the house elf, still busy taking in the room, the potions master offered a small ‘Hello, Deek.’

“I will see to it. Deek, can I ask you a favour?” you smiled at him reassuringly. He replied with a smile of his own: “Of course. What can Deek do for you?” “Could you perhaps bring us some tea later? First there is something I want to show to the professor.” With a nod and a snap on his fingers, Deek was gone. 

“What is this place?” asked professor Sharp, finally looking at you. “The Room of Requirement,” you replied simply, “professor Weasley showed it to me last year and urged me to use it how I see fit, mostly to aid me in my studies. Come sir, please, I do want to show you something.” 

You lead the teacher up one of the staircases towards the swamp vivarium. You entered, with Sharp following close behind, slightly apprehensive at the feeling of wetness underneath his boots. This time you couldn’t conceal your chuckle as his jaw once again dropped. Your thestral friends noticed your arrival and immediately set on to welcome you. You laughed gently as the baby thestral nudged at your hand with its little skeletal beak, craving your loving touch.

With a few flicks of your wand, you brushed the animals and replenished their automatic feeder, all the while still stroking the little thestral’s head. Sepulchria, its mother, meanwhile took interest in professor Sharp, sniffing at him warily before deciding he posed no danger to her offspring. 

Almost like on its own accord, Sharp’s hand travelled up to touch the mare, his calloused fingers coming to rest on her neck. “This is incredible,” he breathed out, as he caressed the creature’s glossy skin. 

“When I was first able to see them, I found them a little frightening,” you admitted, conjuring a bench for the two of you to sit down on, the little one’s head immediately coming to rest on your lap, “it was right after the dragon attack, when I saw Mr Osric…” You got quiet. Professor Sharp sat next to you. Sepulchria and her mate, a male thestral you named Phobos, settled into the moist grass nearby, seeming perfectly happy to hang around while you and your teacher talked. Their offspring, Juno flapped its wings contentedly, leaning into your hand.

“Of course, I quickly learned of their good qualities,” you continued, forcing your tone to be light. “It was only after… After professor Fig died… that I found real comfort in them. They are amazing creatures, so gentle. In a way, I feel like they are exactly what a person needs to see, when they… when they watch somebody die.”

As per usual, Sharp let you speak, giving you time to gather your wits about you, think over the words you were going to say. He had no patience for fools who would bring chaos into his class, or his life, but he had all the patience with you. “They are scary at first and they have a sad aura around them… But they are here and they mean no harm. They’re a part of this world as death is a part of life. Death is not intentionally cruel, even if it sometimes forces us to go through life without some person we love.” 

You heard a soft exhale next to you, then felt warmth on your free hand, as the professor’s fingers closed around it. You didn’t know how long you sat there in silence, hand in hand, just watching the skeletal equines and wandering through your own minds. “There is no without,” the potion master said suddenly, making you startle a bit. “They may not be around to talk to us, but as long as we remember them fondly, as long as we still let them guide us, they will never be really gone.” 

You squeezed his hand. It was calloused and warm, and fit in yours perfectly. “I think there’s tea ready for us, sir.”

—

“Do you mind telling me where exactly are we going in the dead of night?” asked professor Sharp morosely as the two of you descended another flight of stairs in the Central hall. You didn’t know when it happened, but some time back the teacher let you support him when on stairs. As long as it was just the two of you, of course. He held onto your arm and leaned a portion of his weight on you, mindful not to step on his bad leg too much. 

You wouldn’t tell him, but you loved when he did that. Having him so close, you were hyper-aware of his unique scent, which was so enchanting to you. It was like a mix between sandalwood, parchment paper and a hint of firewhiskey, and you had to restrain yourself from inhaling it deeply, so that it wouldn’t be obvious you were getting high on it. If you were to smell amortentia, you were certain this was what it’d smell like to you.

“Need I remind you that you are outside your dorm room after curfew? That’s a sure way to get you in trouble.” he quipped, no bite behind his words. “I’m with a teacher, surely an exception can be made?” you replied back, your tone light and amicable. Back when you first met him, you wouldn’t have imagined you’d share such banter with the potions master, he seemed far too serious for that. You still showed him nothing but respect in class, but outside of it, when the two of you were alone, you allowed yourself to tease him sometimes. You were always met with mild amusement and slight exasperation in reply.

Sharp sighed next to you: “I really shouldn’t encourage you in this… Should give you detention for a week, helping me grade exams.” He blinked in surprise at the happy smile you gave him: “I wouldn’t mind that.” The professor stopped walking in order to stare at you in disbelief. You felt your cheeks going red under his intense gaze. Oh no, you thought, have I said too much? Can he see right through me?

Finally, the potion master chuckled and shook his head: “You are a strange young woman, miss (L/N).”

You found yourselves on the school grounds, the cool night air making you hum contentedly. Despite no longer walking down the stairs, professor Sharp held onto your arm for support. You brought your free hand to your mouth and whistled on your fingers. A flurry of movement followed almost immediately. A gust of wind ruffled your hair as a white hippogriff landed in front of you. You let go of your teacher slowly, making sure he was prepared to stand on his own again, and approached the beast.

“Hello, Highwing,” you cooed and stroked her beak lovingly. Professor Sharp stood motionlessly, observing the majestic creature with no small amount of awe. “Poppy Sweeting introduced me to her after my first Beast class,” you explained, carding your fingers through Highwing’s soft feathers, “sometime later me and Natty rescued her and one more hippogriff from poachers led by Harlow and Rookwood. And the hippogriffs ended up saving our lives the very same night.”

Sharp listened quietly, his brows furrowed. “I think I’ll rather not ask any questions, (F/N), else I actually might give you that detention,” he said then. He didn’t call you by your first name often, but when he did, it always madea wave of fondness run through you. You wondered if you’d ever be allowed to call him Aesop. You tried rolling the name off your tongue many times when you were alone, deciding it was a beautiful name and that it fit him perfectly.

Carefully balancing himself on his good leg, he gave a deep bow to the beast, knowing how proud they were. A few seconds passed before Highwing deemed his action courteous enough to reply in kind.

The potions master hobbled towards her slowly, extending a hand to pat her feathered neck. He did startle however, when you nimbly climbed atop the creature, settling comfortably between its grand wings. “What are you doing, miss (L/N)?” he asked, narrowing his eyes when you offered your hand to him. “Please sir,” you spoke quietly, your smile seemingly glowing even in the darkness around you two, “trust me.”

He debated with himself whether he finally went mad. It was nearly midnight, and while summer was quickly approaching, the nights were still rather cold. He was standing on school grounds and a student was proposing to him with, what, a hippogriff ride? He was way too old for this. Yet, as he looked at your extended hand and the positively beaming look on your face, he sighed. He probably was mad.

The potions master took your hand and marvelled at your strength as you seemed to have absolutely no problem pulling him up and behind you. Only now it hit him that he didn’t take into consideration where he’d put his hands. Very awkwardly, he placed them on each side of your waist.

Feeling the steady warmth of his body against your back made a rush of blood course through you, and you were suddenly glad to not be able to look at him. Your cheeks were so hot and red, he’d be able to figure you out immediately. You craved to enjoy the feeling of his hands on you, and even thought about buying a pensieve, just so you could watch the memory of this again and again. 

You shook your head. There would be time for that later. Right now, you dragged him all the way out here and onto a hippogriff, might as well give him a brilliant memory too.

“Highwing, go!” you called out, grabbing onto the beast’s neck more tightly. The hippogriff cried and stood on its hind legs before breaking into a gallop. Professor Sharp cursed next to your ear and finally wrapped his arms around your waist fully. Propriety be damned, the teacher doubted falling off a racing hippogriff would do any good to his leg. Or any other part of him, really. Highwing spread her wings, their span positively huge, and Sharp felt they were no longer on the cobblestone path. 

The flapping of wings forced the professor to close his eyes as they soared higher and higher. Then it stopped and Aesop finally looked. His breath caught in his throat. He remembered flying around on his broom when he was a student himself, but it suddenly struck him that he never did so at night. 

It was ethereally beautiful. The moon shone on the great castle, white glow reflecting on the roofs. There were lights on in various parts of the castle. It stood under them in all its glory, sure and steady, yet ever changing. The castle was like a living organism, stony body, a kind soul and a heart constantly drumming with magic, holding so many secrets within the historical walls, Aesop was sure that even if he lived to be two hundred years old, he’d never be able to discover all of them.

 It was so serene, yet so humbling, the professor momentarily felt weightless, not feeling his blasted leg at all, for once free of all of his guilt, of all the pain he ever experienced.

He didn’t realise he was squeezing you closer, that his chin was leaning on your shoulder. Something you were very much aware of, trying your best not to tremble under his touch. It was both salvation and damnation and you found yourself thinking how easy it would be to just turn your head to the side and capture his lips. You held yourself back, gently bumping his head with your own instead. 

Highwing slowly descended above the murky waters of the Black lake. Sharp saw the giant squid thrust one tentacle above the surface, as if greeting the three of you. Feeling impossibly young, he laughed, and he laughed until his lungs hurt. You laughed with him, releasing a giddy whoop, when the hippogriff decided it was time to take to the skies again.

You eventually landed on a coast south of Hogwarts. Professor Sharp felt his spirits dampen somewhat at the sight of you flawlessly leaping from the beast’s back and onto the ground, your movements noble and elegant, and so youthful. Yet, once you looked at him, all smiles and messed up hair, a grin broke on his face as well. He let you help him down, his good leg taking most of the blow of impact with the ground.

Nevertheless, he winced. Oh, he was going to need at least two phials of Wiggenweld potion once he was back in his chambers. Trying to push his pain away, he spoke in a light tone: “So, that’s what you’ve been doing when you were supposed to be in the castle? In bed?” You gave him a little guilty smile: “Sometimes. You’ve got to admit, though, this is rather exhilarating.”

The professors sighed and leaned against a nearby boulder: “As your teacher, I should really be condemning this sort of behaviour instead of encouraging it… However, you’re right. It was exhilarating. And very beautiful. I am thankful for the experience.” 

He scanned his surroundings, moonlight illuminating the area enough for Aesop to be sure you wouldn’t get ambushed by some poacher, or a pack of mongrels.

When he was sure the two of you were alone, he sat on a nearby boulder, content to rest for a bit. 

The professor watched as you picked up a pebble using your wand, and made it skip over the dark water. You truly were something else. He was aware that the amount of time he spent with you was frankly inappropriate, seeing as you were his student, but he just couldn’t help it. The potion master did try to put some distance between you in the past, but it was no use. You’d always come find him and he couldn’t turn you away. 

He didn’t know when he stopped trying to set this distance. Maybe when the last couple of times it was him who caved in. Him, who invited you over for a cup of tea, unsure whether he’d be more glad if you accepted, or if you refused. Never once did you refuse. He realised that such distance was actually the last thing he wanted, that you actually became… friends. Close friends.

He angrily shushed the little voice in his head that tried to ask ‘Just friends?’. 

Oh yes. That was the reason he wanted to set the distance, how could he have forgotten?

You turned seventeen some time ago, officially of age, but that didn’t make Aesop feel any better. You were very mature for your age, and probably have been for a long time. He had no problem seeing you as his equal, despite you being so much younger than him. But as he watched you skipping stone after stone, he could feel his guilt suffocating him, seeing tiny traces of the child you stopped being when you watched your mentor die before your eyes.

He should probably mount the hippogriff, fly really high up and throw himself off the beast. But oh, how much he longed to join you at the bank and wrap a protective arm around you. 

“Sir? Are you alright?” you noticed him staring at you, and saw him cough awkwardly. “We should probably head back,” the potions master decided then, slowly hobbling over to Highwing, who seemed to be happily hunting for squirrels since your arrival. 

He enjoyed holding you to him while he could. He didn’t actually want to plummet to his death after all, so it was perfectly acceptable to grip you tight.

“Are you sure you’re alright, professor? You don’t want me to walk you to your chambers?” you asked with worry in your voice. Highwing’s form was rapidly disappearing in the dark sky. “I am quite well. You should go to your dormitory. Probably best to use the disillusionment charm as well.” 

He didn’t know if the smile you gave him then made him want to laugh or cry, your eyes were filled with such fondness and wonder, Aesop honestly felt like the very air around him got warmer. He wasn't ready when you grasped his hand: “Thank you, sir. I’m glad you joined me tonight.” Oh. And the professor definitely wasn’t ready for you to get up on your tiptoes to press your lips against his left cheek, right where his scar ended. 

Not a second later you were nearly translucent and slowly getting away from him. “Miss (L/N)! Detention.” he called after you. You had the audacity to giggle, before the door to the Entrance hall opened and you slipped in.

—-

Aesop Sharp knew he was playing with fire when he responded to your letters that summer. It was the summer before your seventh year. He very nearly had a heart attack when a greater sooty owl appeared on his windowsill one morning, bearing a letter with your handwriting. There was no address, just his name. Seeing as he lived quite close to Hogwarts, it really wasn’t that much of a surprise the owl was able to find him.

He gave it some food and water, a single digit coming to scratch under its head. It leaned into his touch. A beautiful bird, indeed. Aesop briefly wondered whether you managed to find it from some exotic breeder in England, or if it truly was an Aussie owl. It was also a clever one, wouldn’t leave without a reply and would get increasingly more anxious for him to at least open the letter. 

He tried to put it off, afraid of what he was to find there. The letter sat on a table in his dining room and he’d regularly come to stare at it morosely, as if willing it to open without having to touch it. The breaking point came late in the evening. The bird would leap onto his left shoulder and peck at his scar rather painfully, before jumping onto the table and standing in front of the letter, giving him a pointed look.

The bloody beast had an attitude!

“Yes, yes, you’ve made your point clear!” he growled in its general direction and shooed her off with his hand. He sat down and summoned his pen knife. He knew he was stalling, cutting the pristine white envelope open much slower than he usually would. Sharp was immediately hit with the sweet smell of your perfume. 

Finally, he pulled the letter out and unfolded it.

Why in Salazar’s name had he been so terrified?

You mostly described how you summer was thus far, confirming his suspicion that you indeed bought your owl in Australia. Her name was Diana apparently. You also promised to bring him some potion ingredients which were exclusive to the country, some of them so obscure Aesop had to look them up in his copy of Moste Potente Potions. Oh, how he looked forward to experimenting with them. Maybe some of them would be the key in discovering the cure for his leg!

You finished your letter with a wish that his summer was lovely as well, and that you were looking forward to seeing him again. 

When he finished reading, Aesop put his head into his hands and smiled at the same time. He was in a bit of a pickle, wasn’t he?

You wrote letters to each other for the remainder of the summer. Aesop soon learned Diana only cared that he read your letters quickly, but was alright with him taking his time to actually answer them. Most of the letters were quite professional, discussing potions, your upcoming seventh year (actually your third year at Hogwarts), the NEWT subjects you’d take exams from, and possible future careers. Professor Sharp didn’t worry about the letters - there wasn’t a school rule prohibiting a teacher to be friends with a student, as long as it didn’t collide with their education or professional relationship.

The fact that there also wasn’t a rule prohibiting a teacher to engage with an adult student romantically was left unsaid somewhere deep in his mind. 

—

Aesop Sharp and most of the teachers and staff arrived at Hogwarts two weeks before the start of term. Matilda would soon be sending out shopping lists and acceptance letters. He was rather glad he wasn’t the one hand delivering these letters to Muggleborns - not that he ever believed in the ‘pure blood’ nonsense, he just wasn’t feeling up to running around Britain and Ireland to explain magic to Muggles. Matilda was kind enough to leave him out of that. Though, he had a reason to believe she did so not because of his leg, but because of the possibility he might actually scare the children into not attending.

Thankfully for everyone, this year’s Muggleborns would be taken care of by Mirabel and Abraham, who were way more enthusiastic about this task than Aesop would ever be.

—

Professor Sharp felt rather foolish, actually.

He stood in Potage's Cauldron Shop, instructing the clerk to send his newly purchased silver and brass cauldrons to Hogwarts, all the while looking through the window hoping to catch a glimpse of you. You didn’t tell him when you’d be visiting Diagon Alley to pick up the textbooks you needed this year, but Aesop kind of hoped to run into you anyway. 

He sighed deeply once he left the rather stuffy shop. He could’ve easily ordered all of today's purchases from the comfort of his own office, but no, he’s going to act like a lovestruck teenager instead. The professor frowned. At least he took his cane today, he thought grimly as he hobbled over to the Leaky Cauldron, more than ready to eat something, and possibly even improve his mood with a drop of firewhisky.

He did feel better with a stomach full of hare stew and nursing his third glass, when a voice he missed all summer sounded right behind him.

“Hello, professor Sharp. Fancy seeing you here,” Aesop’s head snapped to the left. There you were. And you were breathtaking. Clad in a lovely dark green dress which fell to your ankles, with pristine white collar and sleeves. Upon your head sat a stylish wizard hat decorated with late summer flowers. The potions master was used to seeing you in your uniform, and occasionally in an ensemble of blouses and trousers that allowed you to move freely. 

Now you were garbed in the pinnacle of late 19th century fashion, looking like an elegant lady of high society. And what an absolutely beautiful lady at that. “Miss (L/N),” he replied, a little out of breath. You gave him a kittenish grin, betraying your otherwise mature appearance a little: “Mind if I join you?” Aesop stood with some difficulty and motioned to an empty chair opposite of him: “by all means, miss, sit.” 

You sat down together and soon shared a little toast - the professor with another glass (last one, drinking more would be terribly unwise) and his young friend with a goblet of rosé. For a while, neither of you said anything.

“You look… well,” said Aesop then, cursing himself for not being able to come up with anything better, “your dress is lovely.” You gave him another smile: “Thank you. My mother insisted that I should wear it. ‘A proper lady’, she said. Between you and me, I cannot wait to get out of this thing. The lace is itchy and I’m rather surprised I haven’t passed out from oxygen deficiency yet, seeing as how tight my corset is tied.” 

Professor Sharp shook his head - he never understood why Muggle women willingly used these torture devices on themselves. “Got everything you need for the start of term?” he asked instead. “I do,” you replied, “it was a lot. I’m happy to be able to do magic outside of school now, and make it all fit in here.” You patted your handbag fondly.

Aesop didn’t know how much time passed. You told him about your summer in detail (as you usually kept your letters short and to the point), talking about your visit to Australia for quite a while. He was happy to listen, your voice music to his ears. The way you spoke, carried yourself, your gesticulations - you were a grown woman. The little slips into child-like manners (a grin here, a wild hand motion there) were not those of an actual child - it was simply your personality. Mature, yet youthful, wise, yet passionate. 

And the way you sometimes looked at him, when you thought he couldn’t see. It gave him hope. It terrified him. It made him want to lay his hand atop yours on the table. Made him want to reach over, grab your face and press his mouth on your own. He did nothing. He only smiled at you.

It was dark outside once you parted ways. You held his hand and said how much you’re looking forward to his classes and his company again. You promised to hand deliver him the ingredients you got him. He nearly forgot his cane in the pub. 

With a final smile and a loud crack, you disapparated. 

Aesop stood before Hogwarts gate, not five minutes later. He missed supper, but didn’t find it in himself to care. He made his way to his chambers, all the alcohol he drank long gone from his system. He actually looked forward to the beginning of term when it meant having you around.

What in Salazar’s name was he going to do next year?

—

In Aesop’s eyes, you were exceptionally beautiful. Unfortunately for him, however, some of your peers seemed to share this opinion. The astronomy obsessed boy from your house gazed at you like you were a holy picture. Sebastian Sallow seemed intent on having all of your attention for himself, constantly finding new ways to keep you entertained and get into trouble. Even the Gaunt boy, while lacking eyesight, seemed to somehow sense your desirability. Aesop just prayed it wouldn’t be Garreth Weasley who caught your fancy.

Each time he overheard someone (usually boys, occasionally a girl) asking you out, his heart closed in on itself and only started beating properly again after your (very gentle) refusal of their proposition. And then it would dance with bliss when you’d turn up on his doorstep instead. 

Ever since that afternoon in Diagon Alley, those unspoken words between the two of you gained in intensity. More familiar touches occurred. Sometimes you’d hold his hand when you spoke of your extracurricular adventures. Aesop would run his thumb over its back, listening intently. It always took him by surprise how much trust you had in him, seeing as both of you were aware some of your escapades would result in loss of points and plenty of detentions. Never from him, though.  

—

One time you held him to you, his head cradled into your neck. You came to his quarters at a bad time. His leg was acting up and his potions weren’t helping. His pain induced desperation was made worse by his guilt. What was he thinking? He was a cripple, entirely too old for you. You deserved better. Even that blasted Weasley boy would have been better for you than him. He should never have looked at you like he did. It was quite normal for a student to develop a crush on their teacher (the stories Mirabel could tell), but the teacher shouldn’t indulge the student. Aesop was nothing but indulgent with you.

He tried to send you away when he heard your knocking that evening. His pain and despair must have found way into his voice, because you didn’t leave. You came right in and locked the door behind you. He snapped at you, told you to get out of his chambers. You disobeyed and came even closer. 

You kneeled before him, your eyes kind and full of compassion. His own were filled with tears that would never be shed. Aesop didn’t cry anymore. He was close to it today though. You massaged the muscles in his leg after you've applied a heating charm to the fabric of his trousers. His head hung low in guilt and shame, and Sharp hoped you would just leave. He was pitiful and you deserved better, why wouldn’t you leave him to his misery?

You didn’t leave. Of course you didn’t. He shouldn’t have thought for a single second that a witch who defeated a troll during her first week in school, after living as a muggle for nearly 16 years, would just leave. She held him, pulled him to her entirely. He could smell her perfume, felt her nimble fingers in his hair. Heard her soft voice shushing him, trying to bring him comfort. He allowed himself to wrap his arms around her. Aesop cried.

—

“Have you given any more thought to your future after you finish school?” he asked one day. Snow was falling outside, staff and students were preparing for the Christmas holidays. Behind him, sitting in one of his armchairs, you sighed. “It’s complicated,” you admitted then, “I’d rather be a curse breaker for Gringotts than an Auror, that’s for sure. No offence.” He grinned. “None taken. I’d like to be able to say that I’m glad you’d choose something safer than the Auror office. However, curse breaking is not exactly much safer, is it?” Finally he turned to look at you: “You didn’t take into consideration… shopkeeping, perhaps?” 

The look you gave him was almost enough to make him laugh. He settled for turning the corners of his mouth slightly upwards. “With all due respect, sir, can you imagine me behind the counter the entire day, promoting fantastic new sales and gossipping with witches on maternity leaves?” Sharp couldn’t hold it in anymore and chuckled openly. “Point taken,” he agreed.

“You know you can change careers later in life, right? Don’t have to be stuck doing one thing forever…” you gave him a questioning look, waiting for him to elaborate. “Listen, professor Hecat is… still battling time itself. And she isn’t winning. There will come a time when a new professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts is needed. And if you excel in your NEWTs the way you did in your OWLs…” Your mouth opened in disbelief: “Are you saying I could someday teach in Hogwarts?” 

He sat down into an armchair opposite of you, propping his bad leg on a footstool. “You possess the skill and the knowledge. I dare say you love this castle, this school. And you’d be able to venture out into the Forbidden forest as you do, without me having to turn a blind eye to it anymore.” You grinned into the flames in his hearth. Getting slightly more comfortable by crossing your legs you let the warmth seep into your skin.

“I still don’t feel like shopkeeping, though.”

—

You and Samantha made it inside the Transfiguration classroom just as professor Weasley went to close the door. You were out of breath and red like salamanders, both from the running and the cold outside. 

“Girls, girls,” chided professor Weasley, “I would expect punctuality in your seventh year.” “It’s my fault, professor,” you panted out, “I overslept. Samantha would’ve been here long ago if it wasn’t for me.” Professor Weasley shook her head and motioned the two of you to sit.

—

“I cannot wait to visit Matabeleland again,” said Natty with a smile. You knew she had her reasons to not want to go where her father died defending her before, but now that she made peace with her past and was officially an adult, she wanted to revisit her happier childhood memories. “Me and gran are going to Arizona. We’re hoping to encounter Thunderbirds there,” spoke Poppy then, “What about you, what will you be doing?”

You looked up at the sky and smiled. “Actually, I think I’ll stay at Hogwarts. I really took on a lot of work this year, and I’d like to focus on it in peace.” It was only partly true. The main reason was that you wanted to spend as much time as possible with your favourite professor. Unbeknownst to your friends, the bag you carried on your shoulder contained a neatly wrapped Christmas present (a beautiful set of drawing kohls), a bottle of firewhiskey said to be absolutely brilliant (courtesy of Sirona) and a very special letter you were hoping to present to your teacher on Christmas Eve.

You came to see Hogwarts as your home. You were able to wander through the highlands for hours at a time, exploring every nook and cranny. If someone were to use Prior Incantato on your wand at any given time, the last spell would most likely be Revelio. Now that your time as a student was slowly coming to an end, you realised just how much you’d miss being here. In a way, you were envious of those who got to attend the full seven years. Your solace was knowing that you wouldn’t ever be too far from your home.

There was no without.

—

“Good evening, professor,” you beamed at the scarred man. He smiled back and stepped aside from the door, a wordless invitation. You took him in appreciatively. It wasn’t often you’d see the potions master so dressed down, cladded only in his white shirt, vest and trousers. His tie was loosened, jacket and coat hanging by the door in the other room. 

You fished the present out of your bag. “This is for you to unwrap tomorrow,” you said, settling it aside on a nearby table, “but I see no reason we shouldn’t try this out right now.” He grinned at the sight of the bottle of obviously very expensive liquor. “Hope nobody saw you smuggle this in. It’s alright to have a glass in Diagon Alley, outside of term. Here however, I believe this would get you into all sorts of trouble with the deputy headmistress,” his voice was teasing and he was already fetching two glasses. “It’s Christmas holidays, we are out of term. We just so happen to be in the castle,” you quipped back. 

You held the glasses while he poured. “Well, miss (L/N)... (F/N). All the best for the rest of your time in Hogwarts, and even better for your next adventure. Wherever it may take you. I am glad to have met you, and proud to be your teacher. And your friend.” You didn’t call him out on the ‘friend’ part just yet, choosing to take a sip of your drink instead.

You immediately made a face and began coughing.

Aesop stood before you, chuckling. “Wow,” you said once you caught your breath, “that’s horrible.” The potions master’s chuckles turned into laughter. “Luckily for you,” he said after you made a show of pushing your glass towards him along with the rest of the bottle, “I think of everything.” A bottle of some floral wine entered your vision, uncorked itself and poured a sensible amount into a conjured up goblet. You drank, rolling the light liquid over your tongue.

“Fixed your taste?” asked Sharp, still smirking. You nodded: “I no longer feel like I’m about to die, so that’s good. Anyway, there’s one more thing I wanted to show you.” You walked over to the armchairs in front of the hearth. Professor Sharp followed and sat across from you. You held a scroll in your right hand and offered it to him. 

Aesop put his glass down and reached for the scroll curiously. Unrolling it, he read out loud:

Brood and Peck

Hogsmeade

Dear Miss (F/N) (L/N),

We are pleased to inform you that you were admitted to apprenticeship at Brood and Peck, Hogsmeade, beginning on 3rd July 1893 at 8 o’clock in the morning.

All equipment necessary for your apprenticeship will be provided for you on the spot.

We are looking forward to our cooperation.

Yours sincerely,

Ellie Peck

Aesop Sharp was looking at you wide-eyed. “I thought about what you said, about the DADA position,” you said, your cheeks turning red under his intense gaze. “I thought… I thought you said you didn’t see yourself in a shop,” he said, still in a daze. “That’s the best thing,’ you smiled at him, “I won’t be in a shop. I’ll be rescuing beasts and taking care of them, collecting byproducts and bringing them to Ellie. I also made a deal with Pippin to bring him any useful potion ingredients I find. 

“I’ll have a bit of money and I’ll be close by. And I’ll be running around the highlands most of the time, which is pretty much exactly what I do now, except without the schoolwork,” you chuckled. Aesop’s expression was unreadable. “What made you decide to stay?” he asked finally, his voice so quiet you barely heard it over the crackling fire. There was the moment, the moment of truth you’ve been waiting for. You gathered your courage.

“There were a lot of reasons. But the biggest one is… you. The more I thought of it, the more the mere idea I’d be somewhere far away from you, unable to see you maybe months at a time, terrifies me. Saddens me.” You sighed then. “What I’m trying to say… I am in love with you, and have been for some time, and I’d like to be close to you. If you’ll have me.”

Professor Sharp’s eyes were glistening. He said nothing for the longest time and you were getting worried.

“Please, professor, think of my words before you refuse me. I know that I am young, but I am of age and I know what I want in life. It’s not just some silly crush, I genuinely believe we could… that we could spend our lives together. You are possibly my best friend, the person I trust and admire most, and I adore you. I think of you all the time, and there’s nothing I want more than to be able to hold you, and kiss you. And be the woman you love. I love you, sir.”

He stood up with such swiftness you startled. Almost as if his leg did not trouble him in the slightest. The potions master extended his hands to you and you took them, standing up as well. He still stood taller than you and you had to look up to see into his eyes. One hand came to rest on your cheek and you unconsciously leaned into it, closing your eyes in bliss as his scent filled your nostrils.

“Aesop,” he said suddenly. “I’m sorry?” you replied, slightly dazed to have him touching you so tenderly. “I should have asked you to call me Aesop ages ago,” he explained, his other hand coming to hold your other cheek, “my dearest girl.”

He felt free, free of guilt and shame, the constant pain of his wounds falling somewhere into the background. He wouldn’t allow it to interfere with this moment. Those three words he craved to hear from you fell freely from your lips. Your eyes were blown wide and he found he could no longer resist them.

A sound made him look up. Above your bodies joined in an embrace a twig of mistletoe appeared. Hogwarts and its secrets…. “There is nothing I’d want more than to have you by my side,” he spoke quietly, the words foreign to his lips before now, but filled with utmost honesty nevertheless. 

You weren’t able to wait any longer. Mirroring the teacher, you grabbed his face gently and guided him down until your lips connected. It felt like the most ancient, the purest form of magic, coursing through you as you tasted Aesop’s mouth. The alcohol was foul when drunk from glass, but on the potions master’s tongue it tasted like ambrosia, getting you more drunk than you’ve ever been, and you moaned into the kiss. 

The world turned into sensations. Your fingers in his hair, his teeth squeezing your lower lip, before soothing the sting with his tongue. The solid, warm front of his body pressing into yours, his heart beating wildly against your breasts. The arms you’ve dreamed about enveloped you crushingly and you realised that you never wanted to leave them. Why would you? You were home.

You were home.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed reading. You can find this work and all of my other works on AO3. I always adore feedback!

[megumimania]

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES - ryomen sukuna

summary: your boyfriend hates modern technology.

warnings: sukuna x fem reader, sukuna is an old hag (affectionately), sukuna not fucking with consumerism is he in his marxist era?🤔, sukuna is a softie when he wants to be, sukuna is ooc because i hate writing mean men :), yuji being a hottie is my fav hc of all time, i can’t believe im giving amazon free promo 😞.

notes: i missed you guys!

sukuna cant wrap his head around technology.

he doesn’t understand why companies sell ‘new’ phones every single year, when they perform the same exact functions as the previous one.

he doesn’t like how your coffee machine has too many buttons when all he wants in the morning is just a cup of black coffee to get him through the day. sukuna just prefers doing things the old fashioned way which makes him subject to teasing by you and his little brother yuuji.

he doesn’t care though, constantly talking about how he’s ‘escaped the matrix’ by not owning an up to date phone and only getting his news from the daily paper and tv. however his view on technology changed once you brought alexa home.

initially he thought that it was a speaker and was confused to why you bought another one. “it’s not just a speaker ryo,” you corrected him swiftly. “she’s a digital assistant that can tell you the time, the weather, recipes and she can even tell jokes.”

sukuna looked at you with the same wariness he’d give to a snake oil salesman. “can’t your phone do the same exact thing for less?” you knew he was lowkey right but your stubbornness refused to let him get the upper hand.

“that’s not the point babe.” you playfully rolled your eyes at him, carrying the box to the kitchen counter and setting it down with a loud thump. “now if you’ll excuse me i’ll be busy setting my alexa up.” you huffed as you opened the instructions trying to make sense of them.

sukuna looked over at your focused expression. your brow furrowed with concentration as you read the instructions. it was simple really and within a couple of minutes the alexa was ready to go and by the joyous look of pride on your face sukuna knew that he was going to be in for one hell of a ride.

and unfortunately he was right.

life with an alexa was hell. sukuna barely got through the day without hearing the monotone female voice rattle off the hottest food spots or tell you a stupid joke that was suddenly the most funniest thing alive. he used to make you laugh like that!

he felt like the speaker was taunting him. hell he couldn’t even have some down time with you without that stupid speaker getting in the way. it was literally like he was third wheeling all the time and he hated it. you were his girlfriend first!

sukuna didn’t like being second best. especially to a glorified speaker.

you and sukuna were cuddling on the couch together after finishing a movie—terminator 2 to be exact. “so what do you think of the alexa?” you asked whilst the credits rolled, mindlessly stroking his cheek with your acrylic nails whilst he rubbed your legs.

sukuna tensed at the question as he tried to think of a way to answer without sounding like a complete asshole. “well…im not really a fan.” you could already tell from the dry tone and his poor attempt of acting unfazed that he was lying through his teeth.

“if that’s the case then why did i find it in the bathtub?” you pulled up the waterlogged alexa in a ziploc bag. sukuna would usually have a sarcastic reply in his arsenal but he was now looking at you as if he was a deer caught in headlights.

“fine, i used the damned thing.” he raised his hands up as he accepted defeat much to your surprise. “it fell into the bathtub when i was trying to stream that megan the stallion song yuuji told me to listen to. he said something about the song needing to go number 1 on the charts.”

you sat back in disbelief. you didn’t know whether to be annoyed, angry or smitten with him. “i’m glad yuji is helping you become more cultured but why did my alexa have to die for such a good cause!” you wailed dramatically collapsing on the floor, clutching the alexa to your chest.

sukuna lifted you off the floor with such ease it almost made you jealous. “stop whining i already ordered another one. it should be coming in a few days.” he said with his usual gruff tone that was laced with softness, peppering kisses down your neck.

you giggled as his stubble tickled your skin. “that was quick, you missed it that much already?” you teased him whilst you hooked your arms around him running your nails down the nape of his neck.

sukuna rolled his eyes at your playful expression. “i’m still anti technology, don’t be fooled.” one thing sukuna was to his core was a hater but like most haters he rarely stood on business.

“whatever you say babe.” you hummed biting back a smile. you and sukuna knew give or take two months that he’d change his opinion about it.

[thedollhousediaries]

The Dollhouse Diaries

Real Life In Plastic Tip #6:

ෆTime Management for Neurodivergent Girly Girls and Boujie Hyperfemmesෆ

This is the pretty girl era of having time management under control. The key is to learn how to live in the moment while also being discipline enough to move on to the next task as needed. I know that sentence was as daunting to read as it was for me to write ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა I guarantee I gotcha *Chaeyoung voice*

First Things First: Go 1 Week At a Time!! (every 3 days if an entire 7 is too much or your schedule is unpredictable, like mine)

Build a simple list of all the things you have to do and that you would like to do. Its much easier to get it all out on the table so you can donate more of your brain power to sorting things, rather than holding things.

Put all of the things listed on a calendar: Most important first things first! This means things like health appointments,work schedule, birthdays, holidays that you celebrate, classes, or anything that involves not only your time but other’s as well. Then after that put the elective things second; Nail appointments, shopping trips, dates with friends, etc. Lastly, put the things you would like to incorporate into your daily routine; We talking skincare, any hobbies you may have like drawing/painting/sculpting/reading/blogging, any form of exercise, etc.

Once the week or however much time you have scheduled out is done on your overall calendar, then its time for marrying it to your life.

Marrying your schedule: Planner apps, Physical Planner, Dry Erase Boards and Bullet Journals

Choosing your medium at keeping up with your schedule is very important. You may have to try them all before you get comfortable with something. I have tried them all and I’ve found that the main one that truly stuck with me was the app/website Notion. I like it because its fully customizable and you can use it at your own pace. Every week or every day may not be super eventful and so it drops the guilt and shameful feeling of not filling up pages every single day.

Here is what all I use and the way I use them:

Notion <3 I use it as my overall journal. I use the apps on my ipad/phone to check if I’m not home and I can use the website on my PC when I’m home and relaxing. I like it because its very versatile. Think of it as a digital journal combined with similar mechanics of tumblr. I use it for literally everything. There are a lot of videos that can show off all of the cool things Notion can be used for but this is the video that personally helped me learn it quickly

Bullet Journals <3 I have about 3 journals and I love them because I get to customize things with cute stickers and it gives very fun scrapbooking vibes. Because I use Notion as a all over planner I can use my BUJO’s for more fun and creative things. I usually use these for all of my cute ideas and things thats in my mind and aesthetic wishlists and such. Its very therapeutic to take time out to be kawaii and glamorous and just put cute thoughts on to paper! I mainly use it for kpop inputs, my fav shows, wishlists, dates and etc.

Dry erase board <3 I use this as a overall daily top important to-do list! Sometimes I dont always open my notion if I dont have anything extremely important coming up but there may be some things I need to keep on my mind to do for that day. The way my neurodivergency is set up I need to keep the most important things always in my face or I could forget everything. So, I put things on there like get a new tire, pick up order from bath & bodyworks, put clothes in the dryer, wash dishes, and etc. Daily tasks like that usually goes on my dry erase board

Remember at the end of the day dont be too hard on yourself and your schedule! Move at your own pace and always set yourself up for success. Scheduling is ideally suppose to calm you and be a tool to improve your life; not stress you out. If at any point you begin to feel overwhelmed just stop and recenter yourself and your life. I felt overwhelmed at first myself and that was because I was trying to keep up with a hyper organized and productive version of myself that I needed to give more patience to develop. Let this come organically to you and not because you are trying to keep up with what u feel everyone else is doing, or to the future self you are going to inevitably become. Happy scheduling, Dollmate!

[putschki1969]

『Hikaru LIVE TOUR -ROUND-』 KYOTO

Tweet by Hikaru | Instagram story by Hikaru | Instagram post by Hikaru

▼2024 11/30 (Sat) Soul Power, Toyama 17:30 / 18:00 12/07 (Sat) Music Bar Perch, Aichi 17:30 / 18:00 12/14 (Sat) LIVE HOUSE enn 2nd, Miyagi 17:30 / 18:00 12/21 (Sat) MUSE, Kyoto 17:00 / 17:30

▼2025 02/11 (Tue) Club eX, Tokyo 17:00 / 18:00

Setlist Notes: The new song is called “With”. I originally thought it was “Wish”. My bad! Not sure about the order of some of those songs (maybe there’s something missing too??). I had to wait till I was on the train to write everything down but at that point, all the songs had gotten mixed up in my mind. It was made worse by the fact that I didn’t immediately recognise some of them and Hikaru didn’t always introduce them either☠️

That ticket holder clearfile looks so good!! Glad we got this as tokuten. A bit bummed though that there was no special design for the drink ticket😿For those who bought more than one copy of the “Mask” EP, there was a special present too, an alternative cover image. Super pretty 🤩 I mostly spent the rest of my day in Kyoto eating touristy stuff 😅And I headed to the Pokemon Center to get a few exclusive items for my nieces/nephews.

On a side note, those pink gummies were posted by Keiko earlier this week on her Yodel app. Of course I had to get them too (tho the packaging is a bit different, there’s a variety of designs. I got the same design as her today🤗)

1.With 2.Treasure??? 3.Koganeiro no Yakusoku 4.Flow 5.Survivor 6.Under the rain (acoustic ver.) 7.Lack 8.YES/NO 9.Disclose 10.Escape 11.End of line 12.Kiseki En 1.Breathe En 2.紡-TSUMUGU-

Some highlights: I was SUPER close to the stage, it was AMAZING!!🤩 You can even see me quite clearly on the photo that Hikaru posted 🤗So glad she allowed us to take off our masks for the photo. Wouldn’t have wanted to miss that opportunity.

As always, Hikaru had an incredible stage presence, she was confident and cool, oozing charisma during each and every performance. I feel like we made eye contact several times but maybe that’s just wishful thinking 🙃Her singing was powerful and even though I didn’t always recognise the song (shame on me), I had a good time. “Under the rain” was hands down my favourite 💕So beautiful. I almost cried. She sounded better than she ever did before. The acoustic arrangement is very flattering. The upbeat songs were a ton of fun (despite sitting right in front of the speakers☠️). Hikaru literally rocked the stage🔥I almost feel bad for not being more active but I guess I’m just not the type to move a lot. (Clapping is the most I’ll usually do😅)

Sorry for adding lots of stuff on the go. I forgot to mention that Hikaru teased some upcoming solo activities for 2025. She says there are already more or less concrete plans but she will wait to make an announcement until everything is finalised. Of course she also briefly discussed the Kalafina Anniversary concert and asked who of us was planning to go. Obviously, almost everyone said that they would come, Hikaru seemed very happy about that and ensured us that they would put all of their love and strength into delivering the best possible music to us so we should all look forward to it.

EP Mask Tracklist Notes: For some reason I thought there would be more new songs🫣But it’s just “With”. The other tracks have been released digitally already.

1.with 2.End of line 3.Lack 4.Koganeiro no Yakusoku 5.Breathe 6.Kiseki

13th Single 「End of line」 MV (Short ver.) ④

And here’s another music video clip of the MV for Hikaru’s latest single release. You can watch it on Instagram! Also be sure to check out her YouTube Short. The song is featured on her EP “Mask” which is set to be on sale at her solo tour venues.

[marigold-hills]

june 3: library | @wolfstarmicrofic | word count: 599 PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART • FIRST PART

They’ve used the map for a very many purposes, some nefarious, some less so, but never usually like this: to stalk one of their own.

Not stalk, Sirius reasons, with himself, because such distinctions are important. Search for. Keep track of. In a friendly, concerned manner.

Because it’s 2am, and Remus isn’t in bed, and he came out of the Potions exam looking pale and a bit defeated in his Moony way: withdrawn, shoulders narrowed, crease between eyebrows. And so, so tired.

Sirius finds the tiny set of footprints with Remus Lupin attached to them in a corner of the library. Not surprising, to find their Moony there, but the library closed at the reasonable hour of 7pm and as much as Remus was being a bit obsessive over studying, he didn’t usually go as far as breaking and entering.

So Sirius is concerned. Sue him.

James and Peter both fast asleep (and how could they be, when one of their own was missing!), Sirius pilfers the Cloak and makes his way through the castle.

The library smells like a part of Remus, an integral inch of him – books and parchment and ink, dust with magic interwoven into its particles. Moonlight falls through the tall windows, the only light, except…

There, in the alcove Remus favours, a single lit oil lamp casts a soft orange glow. Remus is always the comfort of autumn but doubly so now, lit up like this, his curls golden and the light touching him like rays of a sunset and Sirius feels it, this want, this urge he can’t name that makes him want to bite or to tattoo stages of the moon against his sternum. Remus deserves good things only – care and gentle affection – and Sirius fears this thing that sometimes overcomes him, how it wants to break Remus just to hide inside of his marrow.

Remus must hear his footsteps because he turns towards Sirius, profile in a sharp contrast of shadows and light, and Sirius thinks oh, thinks I don’t understand.

“What are you doing here, Pads?”

“How did you know it was me?” Sirius wanders, removing the Cloak.

“I’d recognise your smell anywhere.”

“I smell?”

“No, you dumb thing,” exasperation and fondness, “comes with the territory. My little secret, of the furry variety. Remember?”

Right, if course. The moon is looming, soon to be full. It accounts for some of the renewed darkness underneath Remus’ eyes. Sirius hasn’t seen the full moon with his human eyes in a long time, but he remembers it was beautiful. He remembers the shadows on its face, craters left over by something ancient and savage, and his Moony – their, their Moony – is like that too, shadows on brightness and scars as memories of pain.

“Why aren’t you in bed, Moons?”

A shrug, a nonchalance. “Fell asleep revising. Figured I might as well keep going instead of trying to cross the castle back without any of our helping aides.”

Sirius reaches out. It’s not unusual. He’s. Touchy friend. But he presses the pads of his fingers into the divot underneath Remus’ left eye, soft and slow, and it’s not like any touch he remembers ever giving.

“You need to take care of yourself,” he says, or maybe he doesn’t because the words are a swallow and a stone and they don’t cross the distance between their eyes, locked onto each other.

(Sirius thinks there’s something here I should pay attention to. Important. Open your eyes.)

“Guess you can be right sometimes after all, Pads. Come on then, take me to bed.”

(And he thinks: oh.)

NOTES:

this is part tree of a 30-part series of shorts: I’m aiming for them all to be readable as standalone but are a part of a bigger story (better read together and in order, in my opinion) if it doesn’t make much sense by itself do let me know, I want to give this a good go :)

i wish we saw more of the library in the movies. I mean, a magical library? Amazing.

@bowielover420 @tealeavesandtrash @digital-kam @moon-girl88

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged in next parts)