#why haven’t they prepared for things like this??
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you give jason todd a scare
(inspired by this post).
author's note — what’s this? another post about jason? wild.
You should have been home three hours ago.
Jason’s hands tighten around the handlebars of his motorcycle. The leather fabric of his gloves crease, slick with rain and pinching around his fingers. It’s not often that you hang back for so long afterhours, though Jason is well aware that you offer your help without second thought, often forgetting about everything else in favour of assisting where you can.
But it’s been three hours since your usual closing time, and you haven’t sent him a text yet. You always send him a text.
Clenching his jaw, Jason wipes his arm across his face harshly, brushing away the rain that lingers on his lashes. It’s not the vibrations of the engine beneath him that’s sending his thighs subtly shaking—no, it’s the adrenaline slowly inching into his system, the panic he can feel twisting inside his chest.
What if you’re alone in the pouring rain? Soaked to the bone?
The traffic light blinks green, and Jason squints through the sheets of rain while kicking back the stand. The line of cars jolt forward, brake lights dimming as tires roll across rain-soaked asphalt.
Exhaling sharply, Jason’s eyes constantly search around him, feeling as if he’s some sort of cop looking for the slightest infraction. None of Gotham’s cops do that here, but it’s what he’s seen in the few movies you’ve made him watch.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” Jason murmurs beneath his breath, body leant forward as rain pricks against his skin, tapping violently against his leather jacket.
“Where? Tell me where…”
The traffic lights ahead glow a bright red, blurred by the onslaught of water, and Jason holds down several curses and a groan. He can feel the dread in his stomach, wrapping around his intestines as he slowly comes to a stop behind a white KIA.
He needs to reach your workplace—he has to see if you’re still there, and that, maybe, your phone is just dead. It must be, because he tried to track down the location of your mobile, but nothing had come up. No blinking blue dot on his screen revealed your location to him, and nothing on Earth would get him to ask Oracle to step in. He has this under control. He’s not going to panic. Not yet.
As cars rumble around him and the bike’s engine rattles beneath him, Jason silently berates himself for not having some sort of conversation about things like this with you. He should have given you instructions on what to do if your phone dies, or if you can’t get home for some reason—he could have prevented all of this if he had just given you the right steps to take. And what if you’re in more danger than he thinks? Wouldn’t it be his fault if you weren’t prepared at all or trained to some small degree in order to defend yourself? If anything bad has happened to you, that would fall on him. Without a doubt.
A horn blares behind Jason, echoing painfully in his ears. The lights have flashed green, the neon colour reflecting off the cars as they lumber forward again. He would have sent the guy a rude gesture over his shoulder, but you’re running through his head—bright eyes made gentle when they lock with his, and your words quiet and low like always. He’s sure that you speak quietly for him personally, like it’s your mission in life to never speak abruptly around him, and he’s never been able to explain to you why that matters to him.
But you’ve never needed him to explain anything. You’re too intuitive for your own good. Too understanding. Too good.
“Jason!”
His heart stops. Beats once. Skips a beat. Beats erratically again. That couldn’t have been…was that…you?
Swivelling his head around frantically, Jason pays no mind to the driver behind him angrily blaring his horn, the sound filling up the street. He knows he just heard you, however faint it was over the rain.
“(Name)! Baby!” Jason calls out, voice thick with worry.
“Jason!”
Yes, that’s you—that’s you.
And you’re flailing your arms above your head, jumping up and down on the side of the curb.With his pulse drumming inside his ears, Jason barely gives it a second thought as he floors it, weaving through the moving cars and crossing lanes to reach you.
People surrounding you glance at him wearily as the engine roars, but you don’t pay them any mind as Jason screeches to a halt directly in front of you.
You barely blink and Jason’s kicking the stand and hopping off his bike. For a moment, you think he’s angry as he strides up to you, with his brows pinched together and his jaw clenched.
Your mouth opens pitifully as you prepare to stumble out your rehearsed apology, but your words die on your tongue as strong hands wrap around your biceps, and Jason grapples you to him. A huff of air escapes you as you’re shoved against his chest, but the shock instantly melts away, and you grab fistfuls of his jacket in your hands.
“I’m so sorry,” you say into his shoulder. Guilt gnaws at your stomach, and you let him tighten his grip around you, even if it feels like your ribcage might snap.
“My phone died.” Your voice shakes, and you squeeze your eyes shut as rain taps against your scalp. “And Meggie wanted me to help her with something after closing, and then her ride ditched her so we were trying to figure out an uber for her cause the taxis are terrible and—”
“Stop talking.”
You inhale sharply. “Okay.”
The silence feels tense, and the rain pricks into your skin like needles, sharp and relentless. But it’s nothing compared to the turmoil you feel on the inside, the guilt that’s threatening to send you into tears—but you can’t cry. No, this isn’t about how you feel, this is about Jason.
“Sweetheart,” Jason murmurs against your scalp, and you catch the tremor in his voice.
“Yeah?”
“I—baby, don’t do that again.” Jason pulls away, and he brings his large hands to cradle your face. You’re reminiscent of a wet alley cat, your hair sticking to your skin and your coat hanging from your frame, heavy with water. But he’s never seen you look as remorseful as you do right now. Any anger or frustration lingering in the back of his mind vanishes within an instant, as if it weren’t even there to begin with.
Purple and pink light from the overhead billboards reflect off your face, haloing your hair. You look beautiful, but more importantly, you’re okay. You’re safe, and he’s holding you in his arms. Despite the rain, despite the chill that clings to the air, your skin is still warm with life.
And that’s more than enough for Jason.
Shaking his head, he brings a hand to gently push against the back of your head and press you closer to him again. He presses a firm kiss to your temple, as if to hammer into your skin the relief surging through him.
Bystanders glance your way, eyeing what simply looks like two people embracing each other with an overwhelming amount of emotion. Feeling the panic in his chest slowly start to ebb away, Jason lets his lips fall to your cheek where he presses featherlight kisses.
You hum softly, fingers tightening around the creases in his jacket.
“I love you, Jay,” you say quietly, because you know he needs to hear it.
Jason’s heart rampages against his ribcage.
“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”
Thank you for reading, God bless <3
#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd/reader#jason todd/you#redhood x reader#red hood x you#red hood/reader#red hood/you#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd#red hood
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DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER NINE
09 : REPUTATION
CHPT. SUM. : Sirius and his close friends build up a reputation at school leading up to their return home for the winter holidays
LENGTH : 10.7k
TAGS : domestic fluff ; marauders origins ; pranking shenanigans ; james is crushing hard ; reunited ; sirius comes home for the holidays! ; investigations lead to a shocking discovery
← PREV. 08 : PASTRIES | SERIES M.LIST
9th October 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place
You didn’t need to help Ruth or Damocles on Saturdays or Saturdays as they strictly wanted to keep the weekends to themselves. They've also been feeling very guilty about taking too much of your time. You argued against it but appreciated that they understood how important it was for them to spend time with each other and for you to spend time with your son. Regulus wasn’t one to complain, either. He loved spending time at the Potions shop and talking with Ruth, but he loved spending time with his mother most. Regulus often stayed in the study with you, reading, drawing or chatting while you worked at your desk. Sometimes, you’d write letters to Sirius together, talking about mundane things that happened throughout your day or week.
Surprisingly, you haven’t heard of any mischief from Sirius. You’re confident that he and the marauders would already be causing some sort of trouble, so you were quite confused. However, whenever you look at Regulus reading Sirius’ letters with such concentration and a hidden smile, his eyes glittering with excitement, you can hazard a guess as to why your letters are much milder than the ones Regulus seems to receive from his brother. You suppose Sirius doesn’t want to out himself as being a troublemaker in school. And, although you appreciate his consideration of you and his want to come across as a well-behaved son, you’re itching to know about all the trouble he’s caused. The fandom hardly knows anything about the Marauders and, now that you have the chance to know what they were up to personally, you’re eager to be let in on all of their secrets.
Nevertheless, after a mostly quiet day with Regulus spent on decorating the halls and rooms of the house with the dried lavender sprigs you had bought off of the Belby’s, you leave him to his own devices before dinner while you investigate the parlour room once more. You’ve left it too long out of your own cowardice and fear. Confrontations were something you were used to, but more so in the business sense; however, this was something entirely new to you. Walburga was the proud matriarch of the ancient and most noble house of Black. Her reputation made the room and its appalling contents all the more concerning. Dark magic was definitely at play, something you had no experience in, and confronting that will always be terrifying to you. Regardless, you remember spotting some books strewn about the room and in your search for answers to help Belby with the Wolfsbane potion, you were willing to get your hands on those books for the research. It’ll be like hitting two birds with one stone; your investigations will also bring you closer to figuring out what the original Walburga was up to.
Taking a breath, you absorb the sound of the grandfather clock striking 5 pm and watch as the secret parlour entrance appears before you once more. This time, you know what to expect, so you came prepared with some spells in mind as well as something to cover the sacrilegious, bloody ritual placed at the very centre of the room. You open the door and wrinkle your nose. It’s dark and musty. With a swish of your wand and a small incantation uttered under your breath, you will the wall lamps to liven up the space with a warm glow. You step in as the heavy doors shut behind you and frown at the dismal room despite the lamps’ touch of light. This time, you aim your spell onto the heavy curtains across the room. The thick, heavy drapes gently pull apart, allowing sunlight to flood the space, and you happily go about fixing up the disorderly area. First, you open the window, encouraging the fresh breeze to sweep inside and wash away the old mustiness suspended in the air.
Tidying up where you can, you leave the central ritual largely untouched, wanting to investigate it later on. The rotting owl carcass was the only thing you handled, magicking it away and relishing in the peace that floods you as soon as it disappears. That poor creature must have suffered a lot from Walburga’s hands; you felt horrible for simply throwing it away, but the suffering and poor intentions it symbolised were too overwhelming to ignore and keep. If you wanted to be productive about the room, it needed to go. Other than that, your main objective was the books and the loose pages that were carelessly strewn about. With a helpful swish of your wand, you collect all the papers and books into neat piles. Another flick shrinks them to a miniature size that you step forth to easily pocket.
That’ll do for now.
Satisfied, you hurry out of the room and shut the door firmly behind you after turning the lamps off and shutting the windows. Despite the rotten owl carcass being gone, the claustrophobia clung to you like a parasite unwilling to part. It weighed heavily on your form and made breathing far too difficult to withstand for a long period despite the fresh air filtering in. You’ll happily investigate the books and pages in your home office. It’ll help to analyse your evidence with a clear mind and in a space you can easily associate with unfaltering focus.
Shaking off the bad energy that still clung to you from the parlour, you make your way into your home office and take a seat behind your desk. The strange fact about these books, you find, is that all except one don’t have any distinguishing covers. The only book with a cover was the one left wide open at the centre of the writing desk and had its pages scornfully ripped out. Tracing the vintage leather cover of the defiled book, you frown at its obsolete title. These were symbols you couldn’t read, and you dread to think that the pages were written with the same indecipherable words. Flicking through the pages, a brief examination, you groan.
“Great...” you sigh at the offending symbols that stare at you mockingly from the decrepit pages of the ancient book. As you suspected, the book’s contents were also written in the same illegible language as the front cover’s title. Until you can find a way to decode the foreign language, you’ll keep the book and its loose pages in an empty drawer at your desk, one with a helpful little lock on it. Optimistically, you hope that the blank-covered books didn’t have the same issue. The random book you grab weighs heavy in your hands but in an oddly familiar way. Peculiar… Thinking nothing of it, you flick to the first page and gasp.
‘CHAPTER ONE’
‘OWL POST’
‘Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one thing...’ This was the third Harry Potter book — one of your favourites in the series.
With a shake of your head, you hurriedly flick through the pages as the pebble in your stomach grows into a boulder and fixes you to your chair. Rushing to open another book, you’re, again, met with more familiar passages from the beloved book series you grew up loving and often turned to for comfort in your adult years. All seven blank-covered books were the seven full books from the Harry Potter series! You think you’re going to be sick… she had the books… Walburga had the bloody Harry Potter books! How did she get them?!
“You’re unusually quiet today, Walburga...” you utter to yourself, urging the standardly shrieking witch in the back of your mind to step up and answer your racing questions. “I know you’re in there somewhere. Are you scared I found you out? What were you planning to do with all this new information, huh?” You drum your nervous fingers along one of the book’s blank hard covers.
“Well?!…” you wait for a response you weren’t going to receive, “Answer. Me. You. Ugly. Scheming. Pretentious. Bitch of a mother!” you spit and grit through your clenching teeth, trying your best not to raise your voice too loud. Getting Regulus or Orion’s attention now wouldn’t be ideal. You don’t know how long you wait for a response, but it was clear that you weren’t going to receive any. Begrudgingly, you lock away the Harry Potter books as well, ensuring that they couldn’t be accessed without a key; if these books got into the wrong hands, it wouldn’t end well for anybody, lest the very characters you were fighting for. What a heavy burden this will be.
There was a positive to this, however. You can rely on these books for information on the world and the Horcruxes.
16th October 1971 | Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room
Sirius couldn’t believe how content he felt in his current environment. He worried that with the recent changes at home, he would miss being with Regulus and his newly changed mother; however, due to the constant stream of letters they exchanged, he lacked that sense of homesickness. And, although he spent the same amount of time on writing letters back as he did writing up his homework, leaving his wrist terribly exhausted, he was content.
Hogwarts and Gryffindor house had become his second home, especially with the people he had surrounded himself with and the few he established as his close friends, especially James. Unlike his brotherhood with Regulus, Sirius had found a camaraderie with James that isn’t based on any blood relation, making their immediate bond that much more special to him. They veer to one another like binary stars, both gravitationally bound and orbiting each other. Sirius, with his aristocratic upbringing and rebellious nature; James, with his untamed energy and proneness for attracting the attention of those around him. However, it wasn’t only them. There was Remus, their shy and quiet friend with bibliophile tendencies. Sirius found that the best way to get him talking was to speak on books, something he was well-versed in, thanks to Regulus. And then, there was Peter, who made his eagerness to be part of the group known, always trailing after them, cracking his hilariously unfunny jokes, enchanted by James and Sirius’ boundless charisma, desperate to replicate it and make it his own, while also captivated by Remus’ smarts and bookishness, always looking to him for academic inspiration.
The first couple of months consisted of typical school things, making friends, getting into a routine and indulging in education. However, after the trouble they had found themselves in when trying to follow Remus the night of that haunting full moon, the boys have grown a tendency to create and find trouble.
Late one evening, James and Sirius were taking advantage of the mostly deserted common room, observing the only other people there, a pair of older students arguing over a wizarding chessboard. With a cheeky smirk and his round glasses slipping down his nose, James leaned over to whisper in Sirius’ ear, “Do you know what would make this more entertaining?” When Sirius looks to his friend, he sees the contagious glimmer of mischief in his hazel eyes.
“What?” Sirius can feel the swell of impishness infect him and pull the edges of his own lips up into a smirk. He knows that, whatever James suggests, he’s going to like what he has to say.
“If their pieces started arguing back.” They share a silent, maniacal laugh between them, expressed purely through their eyes.
“Let’s do it!” Sirius whispered back with an air of eagerness. It was so tempting to laugh aloud, carefree and raucous, but he was wary of the prefect standing close by. “How did that animation spell go, again?”
Not knowing the spell wasn’t a big obstacle for the two, they remained undeterred and went to enlist Remus. Typical of their prim and proper friend, Remus looked horrified at the suggestion, but there was a level of intrigue in his eyes that Sirius eagerly pointed out and used to convince him enough to indulge them. Together, they scoured their charms books for potentially helpful spells and were pointed to the correct chapters by Remus. Peter, poor Peter, was also roped in for the extra labour, unable to resist James and Sirius’ convincing arguments and twinkling smirks. Remus sends the portly boy a disappointed look but blushes when Peter returns the same disappointment towards him as if to say, ‘You volunteered to help first, mate. Don’t look at me like that.’
‘Well, they targeted me first,’ was what was conveyed in the look Remus had sent him back. Nevertheless, it was all in good humour, and the two smiled about it to themselves for a moment before Sirius and James complained that they were hardly helping and pushed their noses down into the pages with them. It took several nights, but they believed they had found the perfect spell. Thankfully, the two argumentative Gryffindors routinely played their game of chess on weekend evenings. James and Sirius practised the spell several times in their dorm room before they were confident in its execution. On the day of their grand chessboard prank, Peter stood by the Prefect on duty, nervously keeping watch as Remus pretended to read a book by the fireplace, and James and Sirius went in for their rehearsed stunt.
Despite their endless practice, however, their first attempt was a disaster! Rather than the pawns coming to life, James pointed the incantation and made it explode instead. The chess piece went out with a puff of black smoke. The only thing left of was its sooty remains, forever marking the chessboard. As the two chess players gasped at the sudden explosion and argued to death, firing accusations at the other for being the one to make it happen, Sirius shook his head disapprovingly.
“Brilliant one, James,” Sirius sarcastically comments, clapping his friend on the shoulder as he grumbles to himself. “We’ll try again, though. And we won’t stop until there’s success.”
Not so easily dissuaded, the two continued their attempts until the chess pieces became an incoherent mess of chatter that rivalled the chess players’ own arguments. It had become such a recurring spectacle that the common area had gradually filled up with other students throughout the weeks, eyeing the chess game for anything interesting that had been rumoured to happen. However, in their attempt at success, they had abandoned all caution for getting caught in the act, leaving them face to face with a very unamused, very irate fifth-year with flaring nostrils.
“Why don’t you find something more productive to do with your time?” the fifth-year lashes out, barely able to contain their irritation. “This isn’t very funny!”
“Au Contraire~ my friend,” Sirius sings playfully as James chuckles beside him, “It was very funny, right guys?” he asks the audience, who cheer wildly, prompting him and James to bow at the waist. Both were happy to provide the entertainment of the night. From his usual seat at the fireplace, Remus rolls his eyes but hides his smirk behind his book as Peter snickers to himself, quite proud of having participated in the background.
And so began the group’s reign of harmless, silly pranks. In the following weeks, the Gryffindor common room became the group’s testing facility for experiments, much to the amusement and irritation of their fellow Gryffindor housemates. It was a double-edged sword; they managed to earn equal amounts of love and abhor for their efforts.
One week, they had enchanted the cushions into making flatulent sounds whenever someone sat down, a surprising suggestion from Remus, who was well-versed in muggle pranks and had introduced them to the concept of a whoopie-cushion. Another week, they enchanted pages to appear blank in borrowed books from the library that were haphazardly left out, a lesson they wanted to teach those who were careless with books in Remus’ place. Another evening, they had enchanted the dining hall goblets to sing ‘God Save the Queen’ whenever someone tried to take a sip of their pumpkin juice, pushing everyone to drink simple water instead. The pranks weren’t sophisticated, but it was enough that they managed to draw out waves upon waves of laughter from their peers and even some teachers. Professor Flitwick was especially impressed with the prank purely from a charm-casting perspective. Remus, however, was stubbornly pouty about the whole thing, constantly muttering on about how irresponsible and silly they were being.
“Come on, Lupin,” James pleads playfully, cosying up beside the bookish brunette, “You can’t deny helping us with that chessboard prank. Don’t pretend you’re above it. Why, I’d go so far as to say that you’d be quite brilliant if you actually put in the effort. You’d have Sirius and me beat!”
Remus buries his nose further into his book, avoiding the contagious mischief in his friends’ hazel eyes, “I only helped because leaving you two to your own devices only spells trouble,” he huffs, lowering his voice to murmur to himself, “you would have blown up the entire common room, otherwise…”
“Exactly!” Sirius claps and points to Remus, settling down on his other side and draping an arm over his shoulders, “You’re morally obligated to keep us from doing something truly catastrophic. You’re the good to our bad Lupin—”
“So you admit that what you did is bad.”
“And you admit that you’re doing the good~” Sirius was such a stubborn wall. “Consider it a public service.”
“Oh, don’t roll your eyes again at us; do that too often, and they’ll get stuck back there—” James comments off-handedly but comes to a stuttering stop when a devious thought comes to mind, “Say... there’s an idea~”
“No, James! No!” Remus protests, quickly purging the thought of yet another prank from James’ mind. He knew exactly where James’ thoughts were trailing towards from his words, and he didn’t like the notion one bit! Peter snickers to himself with Sirius at the display. James held his hands in surrender as Remus pointed a narrowed stare at him, a silent warning against committing such a cruel prank.
Soon enough, however, Remus also became a willing participant. At the ripe age of eleven years, he was more fascinated than repelled by James and Sirius’ creative antics, stemming from the perversity of James’ natural prankster nature and glamourised by Sirius’ likeness to flamboyance, giving the otherwise amateurish pranks a vivacious flare. It wasn’t only Remus, however; Peter was also roped in, easily swayed by his friends’ characters, somewhat addicted to pleasing them and being part of the group.
While James and Sirius spearheaded the misbehaviour, coming up with endless pranks, Remus suggested they set aside a separate notebook to document every idea, establishing himself as the group’s moderator. He was the one to suggest modifying elements of their plans and encouraging them to test the spells beforehand, personally doing so himself most of the time. Meanwhile, Peter had the space to become emboldened by James and Sirius’ encouragement. However, there remained a hesitance that Remus deeply understood in Peter whenever their portly friend pulled away from playing any of the daring roles in their schemes.
“Sirius and James are better for it,” Peter excused and was happy for his excuse to be so easily accepted.
Their dynamic was gradually being set: James and Sirius were the primary driving forces, dubbing them the ringleaders by many. They were constantly pouring out their many prank ideas into the notebook Remus had provided them with. Remus was the strategist who safeguarded their plans and affiliated spells. He liked to think that he was doing public service, ensuring that his friends didn’t get carried away and making certain that their plans didn’t spiral out of control. Leaving Peter as the loyal accomplice, always the first one to step up and prove his willingness to share in the daringness and mischief. They had become a solid group with a mounting reputation of being equal irritants and entertainers to the professors and students. Their friendship was ossified by shared laughter and devious plots whispered amongst them, their loyalties to each other as hard as diamonds.
Other than their pranks, however, James had other occupations, one that flooded his mind with the image of a beautiful red-haired girl, who had the most striking emerald eyes. Her name: is Lily Evans. As beautiful as the flower of her namesake. He was smitten the instant he saw her on the platform, smiling widely, her eyes sparkling with rapture as she waved her family goodbye and stepped onto the train with her luggage. Not only was she the most beautiful girl James had ever laid eyes on, but she was also brilliant. As a muggleborn, he didn’t expect her to be so bright and well-read on the wizarding world, but that only made him fall even deeper for her. In one of their early Potion classes, she had brewed the cure for boils with such effortless grace that their potions professor (Professor Slughorn) was brimming with pride, his eyes taking a shine to her already. James, on the other hand, wasn’t so talented. Despite his father’s success in potions, he had managed the impossible task of melting his cauldron, which earned him a thorough scolding from Professor Slughorn. He had been so distracted by the red-haired beauty in his periphery, that he barely registered the heat of the fire, and Peter was too hesitant to voice anything. From across the room, Sirius and Remus snickered under their breaths at him, earning them a narrowed gaze, but what had killed James was the unimpressed look Lily had sent his way.
So much for a good first impression.
As determined as he was to succeed with his pranks, however, James had the same stubbornness when it came to his newfound love. No, this wasn’t a mere crush; this was love. The same love his parents shared and were never shy about displaying. He wanted a soft, everlasting love like them, and he knew— deep down —he knew that it had to be with Lily Evans.
From afar, he watched her with longing, adoring eyes, admiring her subtle habits and dazzling smile, blown away by her viridescent stare. Her laughter easily fills up a room, and he finds himself eager to draw out as much of the sweet sound from her as possible. However, there was a conflicting emotion when James quickly realised the astonishing amount of time she spent with Severus Snape, a Slytherin boy with greasy black hair, paper-pale skin and dark, dark eyes. They appeared to share an interest in potions, always becoming the most efficient potion partners whenever they shared a potions class with the Slytherins. However, that doesn’t account for how often James sees them together outside of class, this simple fact making a bitter dislike fester from deep inside him, immediately and viscerally so.
“What does she even see in him?” James scoffs, muttering to himself resentfully as he struggles to come up with any new pranks; his mind is too preoccupied. Even the heat of the fireplace couldn’t tempt him into indulging in the cosy atmosphere that evening.
Sirius, who had been plotting beside him, shrugged, “Maybe Evans just has a thing for greasy hair.”
James makes a disgusted face, “No way! Not her,” he refuses to believe she would have such an unorthodox preference, “I’m going to do something about it,” Sirius raises a brow in silent question, his interest piqued; he’s always up for a good prank, no matter the target. With a devilish smirk, James pulled Sirius in by the shoulders, and the two began to scheme.
The following morning, it quickly became known that the Slytherin table was bewitched. Another prank. Whenever someone tried to eat their breakfast, their utensils flew out of their hands in protest and began sword fighting on the table. It caused such a ruckus that James and Sirius earned themselves a week’s long detention, but James couldn’t care less. Despite seeing her supposed friend’s misery from across the table, the defeated look Snape had sent her was enough to make Lily Evans laugh—really laugh— the sound so beautiful and twinkling like the stars, James felt no guilt. That was his reward, and it trumped any punishment. He would do it again and again just to hear her laugh once more.
The Christmas holidays were fast approaching, and the boys had made quite the reputation of themselves, their pranks only having grown bolder as the days went by. It was equally exciting and apprehensive all at once to everyone except the four, as anybody could be their potential, new ‘victim’. Even professors weren’t exempt from their schemes; McGonagall could attest to that when she had to suffer having vivid blue hair for an entire afternoon following an ‘accidental’ charm they had cast during her transfiguration class. That wasn’t escaping her, however, and they landed themselves another evening of detention with Filch.
Despite the chaos they caused, however, it was never mean-spirited. The end goal for their antics was always laughter. James was adamant about earning it from Lily Evans, his love. Sirius was adamant about earning it for himself, wanting the most from his school experience away from home, just so he always had something to write to Regulus about. Remus was adamant about ensuring that everybody was laughing, holding onto the belief that the pranks weren’t funny if only a select few had the privilege to laugh. And Peter was just happy to be surrounded by laughter and high spirits. The group’s ‘prankster’ reputation was sealed. They had fostered an unbreakable brotherhood.
James still had a long way to go before he even had the chance to earn Lily’s affection and heart. But, for the moment, he was content with the brothers he had found and bonded with, brothers he didn’t have the pleasure of growing up beside but eventually managed to find in his dorm mates and friends.
18th December 1971 | Hogwarts, Dining hall
Sirius was eager to get to breakfast, and considering James was the only morning person around, the two of them went to the dining hall at a good time despite it being the weekend. Remus and Peter weren’t as willing to get an early breakfast; however, favouring sleep and groggily ushered the other two away, promising they’d meet them at the dining all in their own time.
“Just save our seats,” Remus asked them to promise, his voice dripping with sleep.
“Funny how you’re not the typical morning person on the weekdays,” James begins after stretching his arms up and giving a resounding groan, “but you always get really excited whenever it’s Saturday morning.” Despite stating this, it was obvious what James was getting at.
“Oh, shut it,” Sirius huffs with a roll of his eyes, “it’s just routine, is all.” The eldest Black brother didn’t lie. It was routine for your letters to arrive on Saturdays, whereas Regulus liked to keep a steady flow of letters coming throughout the week. Although this could demonstrate a lack of interest on your part, Sirius understood that you were busy with the household and taking care of Regulus; he was only happy that you had yet to miss a single week. That amount of dedication was more than enough for him. He’s also very happy about the news he received from you and his favourite uncle, Alphard. His uncle had expressed his concerns in letters following his sorting ceremony, but Sirius was quick to reassure him, promising that his mother was just as happy about his sorting as he was. Sirius could tell that his Uncle wasn’t convinced and patiently awaited the day he would see for himself that his mother had changed for the better. And what a brilliant day that was. He received letters immediately from Regulus and his Uncle. he had to wait for his mother’s Saturday letter, but the good news was consistent throughout the different dialogues, proving its truth.
Good news seemed to be the only thing Sirius reads in the letters he receives from home. And he’d like to reciprocate that, especially for his mother. He wants to do well by her despite her assurances that she will always love and support him no matter what. He omits a large portion of his letters’ contents for you, not out of malice but in consideration for your standing as his mother. You’ve made such a turnaround for him and Regulus, he owes it to you to be a good student. So he writes all about his good grades and excellence in class, especially for his flying lessons, where things could easily become dangerous. He wouldn’t dare write a single word to you about the amount of mischief he and the boys have been up to. Yes, he felt guilty, but he was only sparing you the worry. He wasn’t even the only one omitting such details; he knows for a fact that James, Peter and Remus were also doing the same.
“Finally, breakfast!” Sirius regales, sitting at his usual seat and quickly piling up his plate. James, who sat across from him, mirrored his actions with the same amount of enthusiasm. Both had a bottomless pit for a stomach, a similarity they enjoyed sharing. They enjoyed sharing many similarities, actually, differences too. All throughout breakfast, James would see Sirius look up constantly, searching the enchanted ceilings for any owls, his eyes sharpening and glowing with eagerness at the sight of a familiar gold ribbon that would streak through the air with a letter written just for him.
“Mother’s letter~” James says in a mocking, airy tone, mimicking his friend’s common practice as soon as he receives a familiar, wax-sealed envelope addressed to him in your swirling handwriting.
“Bugger off, James!” Sirius laughs, playfully kicking his friend in the shin from beneath the table, earning a small exclamation of pain. But the grins on their faces haven’t slipped off. This was normal teasing, not worth getting offended over; a great way to start their day.
“What does it say?” James asks through a mouthful of toast, butter and strawberry jam — he's almost completely incoherent.
“Like I’d tell you.” Sirius rolls his eyes, unfurling the letter within and reading to himself with a smile. In his head, he imagines your voice reading the words to him personally. He often does this. He does it for your letters, for Regulus’ and for his Uncle Alphard’s too.
‘My dearest son, Sirius,’ He smiles at your usual opening. It never fails to make his chest flood with warmth at your affectionate address. He still can’t believe he receives such letters from you despite not being in Slytherin. You were once so adamant that he be sorted into the House of Snakes, but not anymore, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Because, you not caring about which house he gets into, shows that you accept him for him, and that’s all he could ever wish for.
‘It’s not long now until you come home. We all miss you terribly, Regulus and I, especially so.’ Sirius scoffs at the subtle mention of his father. He appreciates your delicateness on the matter, but he couldn’t care less; he gets enough familial love from you and Regulus, and even his uncle. Despite his father being largely neglectful, Sirius’ days are filled with warmth and happiness, knowing that he has you and Reggie and Uncle Alphard— his version of family is complete. Nothing else needs to be added or subtracted, it’s perfect as is, no matter how small compared to the rest of his family tree.
‘The Yule holidays will be a special one, I have so many fun activities planned for the family.’ Sirius’ eyebrows fly to his hairline, his eyes widening with excitement at your words. The winter holidays were always a dull affair, with the celebrations mainly consisting of soirees and events with the other pureblood, sacred 28 families. For the first time, Sirius was allowing himself to feel actual elation for what may come. Now that you’ve changed for the better, he wonders what sorts of fantastical things you’ve planned. He recalls the fun extracurricular lessons you meticulously put in place for him and Reggie, lessons that weren’t tedious to get through or spiritless in nature; rather, he always looked forward to them and often found himself bouncing around in anticipation for what you may have planned that day. From that judgment alone, he knows he’s in for a real treat.
‘Regulus doesn’t know anything, only that I have something special planned for all of us. And you will be just as clueless as him until the day finally arrives.’ With a grin Sirius, shakes his head, eyes filled with amusement. He doesn’t mind waiting for a surprise he knows will be anything but boring. It’ll be better than any of those soirees and stiff dinners. He’s heard many tales from his close friends about how they spend their winter holidays with their families, and it always made him a little jealous when theirs seemed more fun than his. James had hot chocolate every night and decorated the tree together with his parents, who also allowed him to fly outside on his broom so long as he dressed well. Peter baked gingerbread with his mother, and they assembled a house together for the little gingerbread men to live in. Remus would watch muggle Christmas films with his parents every night leading up to Christmas day and get up early to unwrap presents, after which they would cook and eat breakfast together. It was all quite mundane, but it sounded so magical to Sirius. He wants that for Regulus. He wants it for his family. Maybe this year, their winter holiday, their Yule, would feel a lot more magical.
‘I can’t wait to hear all about Hogwarts from you in person. I’ve missed you so much. All I want is for you to hurry home so we can all be together again. It’s truly not the same without you here.’
As he finishes off the letter, James begins to laugh, filling in Remus and Peter as they groggily take their seats beside them. “This loon was all giddy over his letter again,” James teases, pointing a finger at Sirius, who huffs but fails to hide his smile and simply returns the letter to its envelope. It was a careful ritual he did to preserve each and every letter he received. He’s eaten out an entire tin of the biscuits you had baked with Regulus and sent him, and he used it to store all the letters he has received from the two of you. It was his most precious treasure at school. Sirius didn’t care for much, and he’s been able to better reign in his temper, but if anyone were to touch those letters, he’d go on a blind rampage.
“It’s good to know that his Mother cares so much about him,” Remus comments, smiling through his tiredness as he piles his plate on with a helping of scrambled eggs and a few slices of bacon.
Sirius smirks and gives James a look, “That’s right, why aren’t you happy for me Jamie?~” Peter begins to snicker as James splutters a response, “Are you jealous I get more letters from my Mother than you?”
“Shut up!” James flicks a splatter of jam at him from across the table with the bread knife he had been using to spread it over his toast.
Shielding himself with his hands, Sirius laughs, “Oi! Watch it!”
“…Wanker…” James utters under his breath, but there’s no lingering malice between them. This was as peaceful as breakfast can go between the four.
Another regular occurrence at breakfast is James’ wandering eyes and his longing stare at a renowned, witty and otherwise disinterested redhead. A fellow Gryffindor who had a close and unusual friendship with a Slytherin. They made for an unusual pair, but Sirius had no problems with them. His main focus was on James’s obvious crush.
“Evans again, eh?” Peter pipes up through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, only to snicker when James hurriedly shushes him. Sirius wasn’t the only one interested in James’ transparent puppy love, it seems.
“Shut your gob, Peter; she’ll hear you.” There was an evident blush on James’ cheeks, and the entire group giggled at his expense. The playful banter, however, evaporates as soon as James sees Lily stand to head out with her supposed friend, Snape. His expression falls so drastically, the tension in the air becomes palpable, “I don’t like him one bit...”
“Why? Because he’s with your girlfriend?” Sirius snickers, trying to keep the atmosphere light-hearted only to duck out of the way when James sends another splatter of jam his way. The next time he does that, Sirius swears he’ll try to aim the jam into his mouth just to be silly and rile James up more.
“No! I don’t!”
“Liar liar! Lying to your friends isn’t a very good habit Jamie~”
James rolls his eyes while Remus and Peter giggle to themselves, “I’m serious—”
“I thought you were James? I’m Sirius,” Remus and Peter begin cackling, sharing high fives between themselves and Sirius as James grumbles lowly. Suddenly, his friend reaches over the table to swat at his hair until Sirius pleads for him to stop. The two of them share an amused grin until James sighs, seemingly having reigned in his bitterness.
“He’s a Slytherin…and she’s a Gryffindor, it just doesn’t make sense.”
Sirius raised a brow, “What’s wrong with Slytherin?” his lips had moved before he could stop himself, and he looked around cautiously for a moment, knowing the rivalry between the two houses well, “It’s just that… I could have been in Slytherin.”
“But that’s just it; you weren’t sorted into Slytherin, he was,” James expresses, clearly speaking about Snape.
Sirius stays silent as Remus quickly picks the conversation back up, not wanting the tension to continue needlessly, “Just admit your crush and that you’re jealous James,” This earns a smirk from Sirius and Peter, and they all simultaneously give James a singular, teasing look.
“I’m not jealous of him!”
“Seems to me like you are~"
James groans and decides to leave the subject altogether. “My breakfast is getting cold because of you. Leave me alone.” They share another light-hearted laugh and finally focus back on the better subject of food.
21st December 1971 | King’s Cross Station, Platform 9¾
Standing at the platform with Regulus vibrating with excitement at your side and Orion standing off near the brick walls of the station, together, as a family, you await Sirius’ arrival. It was a cold winter’s day, but you could barely feel the chilling temperatures through your eagerness. You wonder if Sirius had grown much taller since the last time you saw him, you wonder if he still has the same preferences in food, and you wonder if he was happy to reunite with you all again. None of that mattered, however, not when he would be arriving soon, safe and sound — you just couldn’t wait to have him in your arms again.
Regulus has been especially excited for today, eager to dress himself for the occasion — in fact, he was the first one at the door this morning. You were second, and Orion came trailing behind as the third. Kreacher was helpfully staying behind to finish up the grand lunch spread you had begun making for Sirius to come home to. He must be terribly tired from the long journey. But it’s nothing some good food and family time at the table could help.
“How much longer do you think he’ll be, Mother?” Regulus asks, looking up at you with starry eyes.
“I don’t know, little love,” you express honestly, observing the congregating families around you, “but I hope he’ll get here soon.” The two of you share a smile and look back onto the tracks once more, fervidly awaiting the arrival of the train.
“I…I think I hear something,” Regulus comments softly, straining his ears and stretching his neck out to better see the path of the potentially arriving train.
“Regulus, be careful!” you fret, hurriedly pulling him back to safety, but he had no care for it, already bouncing in place.
“It’s coming! The train is coming!” His elated exclamation can be heard throughout the platform and makes all the surrounding families straighten in anticipation for their sons and daughters, who are finally coming home for the holidays.
“I know it’s exciting, but there wasn’t a need for you to put yourself at risk, alright? Regulus?” you look into his eyes meaningfully as he nods, “Promise me you won’t do something so silly again.”
The soft pink cheeks of your youngest, due to the biting cold, become all the more pink from your worry, but he nods agreeably. “Yes, Mother. I’m sorry.” Smiling satisfactorily, you kiss his crown and pull yourselves back even further as the train finally arrives at the station. It arrives with a flurry of smoke and an echoing horn. Sirius is here. You try to keep your heart at bay, feeling as though it would fly out of your chest, just at the idea of Sirius being so close. Glancing behind you, Orion leant against the brick wall, looking around impatiently and with such dull disinterest that your excitement was momentarily overcast. What an unpleasant attitude to have. Was he not happy for Sirius to be home after so long? He can stay back there for all you care. For now, you focus on searching the globulous crowds flocking to the train entrances for your eldest son.
You made sure to clearly inform Regulus about your plans for collecting Sirius at the station. Rightfully predicting the large mass of people, you warned him to keep his distance and stay close to you. It was important that he not let his excitement get the best of him, or else he would be putting himself in danger by carelessly mixing in with the crowds of people.
“Stay close, Reggie,” you remind him, and he gives your hand a reassuring clench.
Searching the crowds carefully, you try to find Sirius as quickly as possible. You try to pick out his pale skin, his angular features, his glittering grey eyes and his mess of black hair. The search was made rather difficult because of the bustling crowds, but you stood your ground, only cursing the masses in your head for keeping you away from your son longer than needed.
“Mother!” came a distant but approaching shout, and your head snapped to the voice’s direction, “Reggie!” Sirius breaks through the crowd with an adoring, toothy grin that you had long missed.
“Sirius!” Regulus shouts and runs to his brother with open arms. From your place, you watch their reunion with fond eyes, doing your best to wait patiently for when Sirius would make it the rest of the way to you.
“I missed you so much!” Sirius laughs into his little brother’s hair.
“I missed you too, Siri…” Regulus sighs into his older brother’s chest. It’s been too long since they’ve last seen each other. Those letters weren’t enough. “Come!” he grabs his older brother’s hand and leads him back to you. “Mother’s missed you too!”
Sirius looks up and grins before running into your wide-open arms, sighing into the thick fabric of your jacket. You use one hand to shrink his luggage and have Regulus pocket them while Orion begrudgingly carries his owl’s cage. You’ve knelt to meet him at his height, pressing his face into your shoulder as you prop your chin over his own.
“Oh! My darling, my darling~” you coo, finally allowing yourself to savour the feel of him in your arms, “I’ve missed you so so much!”
“I missed you too, Mother!” Sirius grins, his spirit bright and shining through his beautiful grey eyes, “Thank you for picking me up.” his politeness makes you awe and begin peppering his face with kisses. “S-stop!” he chuckles, clearly not opposed to the affection in the slightest. “You’re embarrassing me in front of my friends.”
“Friends?” you stutter, pausing as you look behind him to see the young marauders holding back devious smirks at the sight. It appears as though they have already introduced themselves to Regulus, who finds his way back to you with a wide smile.
“They all sound nice, Mother,” Regulus comments, positioning himself beside you and facing the three school boys who arrived with his brother, doing his best to ignore Orion’s displeased expression and narrowed gaze. His father had been very irritable and impatient this morning. It was very disappointing to see, but Regulus didn’t allow it to pollute his personal delight over Sirius’ return.
“Let me introduce you,” Sirius starts with a messy-haired young man with round glasses, standing at a healthy height and with the faintest dimples showing in his cheeks. “This one is called James,”
“This one?!” James blanches, making you all laugh before he finally greets you properly, “James Potter, here! Good afternoon, Ma’am,”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, James,” you smile kindly at him, trying to temper your racing mind and heart as best as you can. The marauders were right in front of you. How surreal! So distracted were you at keeping your reactions reasonable that you completely missed the slight shock that crossed all three boys’ expressions before they melted into a soft look of admiration — one similar to puppy love. You’re pretty... was their silent but unanimous conclusion. They only caught a glimpse of you from the dining hall on the day Sirius had been called to see Dumbledore, but seeing you up close made them realise how small of a glimpse they caught of your beauty. Perhaps it was also because of how loving they knew you to be through Sirius that their puppy love blossomed so easily.
“This is Peter,” Sirius gestures to a portly boy with sandy blonde hair and chubby cheeks flushed red from the cold.
“H-hello, Madam, it’s Peter Pettigrew,” Peter greets shyly, finishing off his introduction whilst avoiding your eyes.
“Hello, Peter.” You can’t help but admire how adorable-looking Peter appeared. Right now, he’s just an innocent child who’s only beginning to figure out who he truly is as a person. Hopefully, you can help him avoid getting pulled into the darkness and help the boys form a stronger bond that keeps him on the right side. You’ve seen the online discussions of how Peter could have been the parallel for Neville before it all went wrong; in this reality, you were determined to make them exact parallels. You won’t allow Peter to be led astray.
“And lastly, this is Remus Lupin.” Sirius corrects himself to make a full introduction this time and turns you to a brunette with faint scars marring the skin of his neck, jaw and face, his sweet features all bundled up in the cosiest grandpa jumper you’ve ever seen.
“A pleasure, Ma’am,” There’s a shyness in Remus’ smile that makes you want to coo at him but manage to hold yourself back. Taking in his precious appearance makes your determination to help Damocles with the Wolfsbane potion grow all the more. A kind, innocent boy like him didn’t deserve to suffer the consequences of such a terrible ailment, especially one that was forced upon him at such a young age.
Smiling sweetly, you give a small nod, “The pleasure’s all mine, Remus, hello.” You take a moment to meet each of their gazes individually. “It’s wonderful to finally put a name to the face. Sirius has written so much about you in his letters,” The three share a teasing grin as Sirius goes a soft pink beside you.
“Mother!” he hisses under his breath, but you ignore him with a light laugh.
“My~ It feels as though I’m meeting celebrities,” James’ chest visibly puffs up as Remus and Peter tuck in their chins bashfully.
“It’s really nice of you to talk about us, Sirius,” Peter comments softly, his words genuine and his eyes grateful.
“Of course, I would,” Sirius defends, his embarrassment turning into smugness. He sees the perfect opportunity to poke fun at them and jumps at it, “I had no one else to rant about you sorry lot,”
“Excuse you!” James huffs, his hands leaving his hips to reach for Sirius, who ducks behind you with a laugh. Peter, on the other hand, pouts exaggeratedly while Remus shakes his head.
“Goodness,” you giggle to yourself as Sirius looks over your shoulder to make a funny face at James, who returns the gesture, soon being joined by Remus and Peter, all of them now pulling silly faces at each other. Regulus was tempted enough to join in, “You lot are a bunch of goofs.”
Regulus nods in agreement beside you, pretending that he hadn’t just joined in and giggled along, his eyes glittering with the idea that he may make the same fun friendships when he finally gets to go to Hogwarts next year. He’s never seen his brother so energetic and laid back before. If this was the effect Hogwarts had on his disposition, then he couldn’t wait to join in on the fun. Regulus has read about the group’s many pranks during school in Sirius’ letters, and although he was hesitant to indulge his elder brother’s misbehaviour at first, he soon fell into the wondrous magic such a brotherhood fostered. He wanted to be a part of it, too. He wanted to create his own.
“We need to get home. Hurry it up!” your husband demands from a step or two behind you, impatiently carrying Sirius’ owl in its cage.
“Really, Orion…” you huff, slowly standing and shooting the stone-faced, bitter mana scowl, “aren’t you the least bit interested in your eldest son’s close friends?” you ask, willing yourself to restrain the amount of bite in your tone, aware of the suddenly quiet and tense atmosphere between you. Orion has the most horrid habit of disturbing the peace.
“I’m interested in getting out of this cold. Hurry. Up!” he snaps once more before turning around to lead the way home. Sighing, you turn to the marauders and your two sons with an apologetic smile, hoping to ease their tense shoulders and tight expressions. “I’m sorry dears, but my husband’s anxious to get home,” they nod their heads in understanding.
“It’s okay, ma’am,” James offers a smile, helping to ease the tension even more. “I should really go find my own parents, too,”
“Of course, thank you for understanding,” reaching out, you softly begin petting Sirius’ hair as he stood at your side. “Perhaps we can invite you over for a get-together over the holidays? It would be nice to spend some time with each other over some tea and games.” The boys look at each other excitedly, their eyes and smiles wide with anticipation. Sirius and Regulus, however, look up at you in surprise. They didn’t expect this at all, but they should have; you’ve changed so much already. Naturally, you would be more willing to allow them to befriend and spend time with those they made their friends. Your sons’ chests filled with warmth at the thought and they couldn’t keep themselves from smiling widely.
“That’ll be great! Thanks!” James cheers.
“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” Peter adds, his shyness disappearing into a bright-eyed smile.
Remus nods along happily, “I can’t wait!” You watch fondly as the 11-year-old marauders share a group hug before waving them off.
“Aren’t we going yet, Mother?” Regulus asks, tugging gently on your skirt. Both sons look at you with curious eyes.
“Of course, I just want to make sure your friends get to their parents safely,” your answer makes Sirius smile gratefully, and you all patiently watch and wait. It didn’t take long for James to greet his parents. He points you out, and you wave at him while his parents stare in shock. Their jaws dropped in surprise at the sight of the Black family’s matriarch happily waving at them with an uncharacteristically kind smile. The same happened with Remus when he reunited with his parents, too. Peter’s mother also shared the same astounded look but was unwilling to stay longer than needed and hurries him away.
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“Your friends were very lovely, Siri,” you comment sweetly as you all arrive back at 12 Grimmauld Place, dusting yourselves off as the green flames of the fireplace subsided “I wish we could have stayed longer.”
“It’s alright.” Sirius smiles up at you, appreciative of your open kindness to his friends, the complete opposite of his father’s judging stares. “They had their families to get back to—”
“What Took You So Long?!” Orion’s voice boomed and shook the walls of the living area, instantly riding the light-hearted nature of the atmosphere.
As Sirius and Regulus stiffened up and inched closer to you, you answer Orion calmly, leaning down to help the boys out of their coats, “We made sure Sirius’ friends returned to their families safely before leaving. Is that so wrong?” Orion scoffs, clearly annoyed that he was kept waiting around for you. “We didn’t mind the cold all that much but I know it was getting to be a lot for you, dear, we understand,” your husband flushes red at the cheeks and stomps off to his office with his tail tucked between his legs. It was hard to suppress your victorious smirk.
“I won’t be joining your lunch! Have the food be delivered to me in my office!” Orion’s reverberating voice disappears up the stairs with him. Good riddance.
“As you wish,” you then call for Kreacher to help you put the boys’ clothes away and serve Orion his helping of the lunch you had prepared for Sirius’ return.
“Right away, Mistress,” Kreacher smiles, magicking the coats to their rightful places once Regulus took Sirius’ shrunken luggage out from his pockets and finally turned to Sirius with a warm look, “Kreacher is most happy to have young master Sirius return,”
Sirius smiles back happily, “Thank you, Kreacher. It’s good to be back too,” giving his young master a nod, Kreacher disappears to deliver Orion’s plate while you usher the boys upstairs to unpack. Sirius can see the visible growth in Kreacher’s once anxious and gloomy nature. The house elf looked much happier now and it was a good sight to behold, a welcome change. Gone was the house elf that perpetuated the torment his mother and father inflicted onto him.
“I’m sure you two would want to have some time to catch up, but you don’t have to fully unpack just yet, lunch is waiting.” the three of you step into Sirius’ bedroom together, where you un-shrink his luggage for him.
“Thank you, Mother.” Sirius turns to you only to be pulled into your warm embrace once more.
“Not at all, sweetheart.” You pull away and lovingly caress his features. Starting from the top of his head, your soft touch drifts down to rest against his cheek. “It’s so good to have you back, Sirius. I missed you terribly.” Gently, you press a kiss to his forehead and move to his bedroom doorway. “I’ll be setting up the table downstairs. Try not to take too long, my loves, we don’t want the food getting cold.”
“Of course, Mother, see you downstairs.” Sirius grins, and the brothers watch as you leave the room, eagerly floating down the stairs to meet Kreacher in the kitchen, where you both share the task of prepping the table for everyone to eat. You were quite relieved that Orion wouldn’t be joining you. The recent meals you’ve shared have been rather tense, and it was clear that he was still bitter over Sirius’ unfilial behaviour that was the cause of him being sorted into Gryffindor rather than Slytherin. Honestly, he was more of a child than your two young sons.
The boys don’t spend too long up in Sirius’ room, both pulled to the kitchen and dining area by the delicious smell of food in the air. They also didn’t want to catch up too much by themselves; sharing their conversation with you over the food you had prepared was a far more pleasant idea.
“Everything smells so good!” Regulus expresses as he and Sirius step into the dining area, smiling at the sight of you bustling about the kitchen with Kreacher.
“Why thank you, little love,” Sirius looks to his younger brother at the new term of endearment he’s earned while he was away at school. There was a mix of jealousy and assurance in his eyes. You definitely took good care of Regulus when he was away. “The food I prepared is quite nostalgic, actually,” you giggle to yourself and urge them to step up beside you. As they do, their steps eager and swift, they gasp simultaneously. Sharing a smile for a moment, they look up to you again with glittering eyes, nostalgia swimming in the warmth flooding their chests.
“Hunter’s chicken and fish and chips!” Sirius exclaims, eying the hearty meal he had ordered at the pub when you all went school shopping with him earlier that year.
“That’s right.” You hand him his plate of Hunter’s chicken and urge him to sit at the table with it before handing Regulus his plate of fish and chips to do the same. “I’m saving the shepherd's pie for dinner tonight.” Orion had requested the hunter’s chicken earlier that day, so you would be eating the second portion of fish and chips. “Boys,” you call their attention before they can take up their knives and forks. Their hands stutter mid-air, and they look at you with curious eyes, wondering what you need of them. Hopefully, it was nothing serious. “Kreacher helped prepare this food with me. Can we thank him properly for his efforts, please?”
Smiling brightly, Regulus and Sirius search around for Kreaher, who bashfully pops into existence beside you, “Thank you for helping prepare the food, Kreacher,” Regulus smiles at the shy house elf who couldn’t even meet his eyes.
“Yes, thank you, Kreacher. Everything looks amazing!” Sirius adds, his words sincere and his eyes crinkling at the edges from his appreciative smile.
“Young masters a-are most—” Kreacher looks to you briefly for some assurance before continuing, “most welcome...”
Nodding happily, you also offer your thanks and finally allow Kreacher to disappear elsewhere. He was slowly getting accustomed to the new dynamic between the matriarch and his young masters, but it wasn’t to the point of comfortably eating with you at the dinner table just yet. That habit of his was so stubbornly ingrained, that you doubt it would be an easy habit to vanquish entirely.
“Good job, dears,” you gesture for them to continue with their lunch, but they don’t move. Instead, they turn their full attention to you.
“Thank you for the delicious food too, Mother,” Sirius begins, “I already know this is going to taste amazing! I’m so happy to be home again!” admittedly his words and toothy grin make you tear up a bit and you quickly blink the tears away, wanting to keep the day a happy occasion.
“Sirius’ is right, thank you so much, Mother. I’m going to savour every last bite!” Regulus adds, pushing you all the more into breaking apart before them.
“You two stop teasing your Mother and eat your food already!” They laugh at your playful huff and finally dig into their lovingly prepared meals. The time was spent thoroughly enjoying the delicious, nostalgic taste of the food while also questioning Sirius about his time spent at Hogwarts. It was exciting to hear about his months spent away first-hand, as the Marauders era was always relatively vague. Yours and Regulus’ attentions were fully captivated by Sirius’ fun retelling of lessons and things he’s learned. You were beginning to get suspicious however; not a single prank against the other students was mentioned, but you were confident in his mischievous antics. He could keep it away from you in his letters home, but you were hopeful that he’d be willing to share the details in person. It was a little disappointing as that was something you were very excited to hear about. Although you were willing to let it go. You’re happy as is to hear whatever Sirius was willing to share. That was more than enough for you.
“My, my, it sounds like you’ve had a wonderful time,” you comment, smiling as Sirius affirms with an enthusiastic nod. “You’ve got Regulus all riled up and eager to join you at Hogwarts now,” you and Sirius giggle together at the image of his sparkly-eyed younger brother across the table.
“It sounds like so much fun, you can’t blame me,” Regulus expresses, tucking his chin into his chest sweetly and with a sheepish pink hue on his cheeks.
“I’m sorry for teasing, dear, you’re just too adorable.”
“And I can’t wait until you join me too, Reggie!” Sirius explains, “It’ll be even more fun when you get to Hogwarts too; we can hang out all the time!”
“Yeah!”
Smiling at their interaction, you helpfully try to reign in their excitement, “Just make sure to allow your brother to make his own friends too, Sirius,”
“Of course! And when you do, we can form one big group of friends.” Sirius’ excitement is still just as animated and contagious. But you were happy for his response and had no complaints when Regulus appeared to rise up all the more in his seat.
“That’ll be so much fun!”
22nd December 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place
Stepping out of their rooms, Sirius and Regulus meet each other in the hallway, grabbing and tugging at their rather stuffy suits. Today was the day of the Yule soiree that was arranged yearly for the sacred 28 families and many other prominently high-class wizarding families. In the memories you glimpse through Walburga’s previous grumblings leading up to the event, however, makes you purse your lips at the thought that, despite the arrangement helpfully trying to make the influential wizarding families mingle with one another, most of the pureblood elitist houses sequester themselves in a luxury room, separate from everyone else. This only perpetuated the divide, and you didn’t want that for your boys. For Orion and appearance’s sake, you’ll follow them into the luxury room but slowly inch you and your boys away and back into the main area.
“You two look like the perfect pair of gentlemen,” you coo but smile apologetically when you notice their awkward stance. “Are you uncomfortable, my loves?”
“Only a little bit,” Regulus confesses politely.
“Try a lot,” Sirius grumbles, always the one who’s more forthcoming with his truths.
“I’m sorry, dears,” leaning forward, you press a soft, loving kiss onto their foreheads, “try to bear with it as best as you can, okay?” Thankfully, the two were willing to cooperate with you and nodded.
“You look beautiful, Mother.” You smile kindly at Regulus’s sweet comment and thank him softly with a kiss to his crown.
“I agree!” Sirius grins and steps up to you, bringing your hand up to his lips, where he kisses your knuckles. “Mother, you’ll be the most beautiful lady at the soiree.” his actions fluster you, but you’re happy to have raised such a gentleman.
“You flatterer,” you hide your bashful expression in Sirius’ curls and press a kiss to his crown in thanks while Regulus giggles from beside you both. The three of you meet Orion in the living room, where you plan on using the Floo network to reach the venue.
“It’s about time,” Orion huffs, adjusting his cuff links before ordering Kreacher to place the dust-repelling spell onto everyone’s clothing so that the debris from the fireplace doesn’t affect your cleanliness. “We can’t be late to the soiree. Stop dawdling!” Orion hurries into the fireplace first and doesn’t wait for anyone else before he’s swallowed up by green flames. You sigh but offer your two sons a patient smile.
“You heard your father; it’s polite to be on time.” You turn to Kreacher as you urge the boys into the fireplace. “We’ll be back soon Kreacher.” With a soft farewell, Kreacher waves you off as you, too, are consumed by green flames.
NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 10 : ... →
A/N : Phew~ that was a long one omg! I hope you darlings enjoyed the chapter and are looking forward to the next one! Chapter 10 will have a lot of fluffy, domestic moments that I'm very excited to share with all of you! For now, I hope this chapter was a good read for you!
#sirius black#regulus black#walburga black#reader insert#marauders era#marauders fanfiction#isekai au#marauders fix it fic#mother reader#divorcing orion black series#the black family#the black brothers#sirius and regulus get a hug#sirius black fanfiction#regulus black fanfiction#marauders era fanfiction#harry potter fix it fic
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One of the Foretellers had come for Mary’s daughter, today.
It wasn’t often that they did; most children were sent off to Daybreak Town on the promise of sending money back to their family, or of getting a better future, or because the village had no magic users to protect them and they needed someone. There were no big ceremonies or flashy goodbyes; there were small farewell parties, sometimes, or tiny little familial blessings, asking that Light may guide them safely and Darkness hide them from all that would do harm. But a Foreteller had come, for Elaine, for Mary’s little girl, and the town had scrambled to put something together.
It was—an honor, really. Mary knew this. It was why she’d set the table with the finest dinnerware they owned—an old set, heirlooms, from a time when there had been less strife—and asked her mother to help her prepare a large dinner, and had wrung her hands as she’d tried to stay polite and proud and keep her wringing hands underneath the table.
Master Ava had been a polite and accommodating guest. Mary had thought, at first, that she’d seemed almost awkward at the attention—but that seemed an absurd thought, when Master Ava was a Foreteller. Everyone had heard the stories—of the heroes who had risen from a town on the edge of daybreak, wielding weapons borne of themselves and slaying the monsters that had so long seemed impossible to defeat. She was more than human; how could Mary expect her to feel something so normal as uncertainty? (She’s young, some part of her whispered—some part of her that could not quite stay quiet—and she did her best to hush the thought. It was dangerous; she could not afford to think it.)
“I’ve heard that you’re interested in magic,” Master Ava said, turning her focus mostly to Elaine.
Mary’s skin prickled, and across the table, her mother shifted, like she wished to interject but thought better of it.
Elaine either didn’t notice or didn’t care; she beamed, eyes brightening as she said, “Yeah! I’ve been studying. Mister Gavin says he thinks I might replace him one day.”
Mary squeezed her eyes shut. They are not taking our only mage, she thought, and it was close enough to the truth that she didn’t have to think about the consequences. Gavin was old, but alive; they would not be left defenseless if Elaine became a wielder. If anything, this was a better opportunity for her; she would go and train with some of the best mages in the world, and then she could bring back her knowledge here, to fend against the shades that encroached on their borders.
(Elaine was still losing her baby teeth; Mary could hear the lisp. She tried not to think about that, too.)
“That’s good; I’m glad to hear it.”
“Keyblade wielders are good at magic, right?”
Mary could not see Master Ava’s face, and it chafed. “Some of us are.”
That was a lie; all of them were, compared to the average person. Most mages trained for years, and even then, they might only be average at best; a newly-fledged wielder could use magic on par with the best almost instantly. ‘Some’ was only relevant in comparison to other wielders.
“So if I go with you, I could get better?”
“Yes. Good enough to keep your whole village safe.”
(“You heard about Marty’s kid, didn’t you?”
Mary hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but she’d stalled, hesitating just out of sight as she’d come to collect Elaine from Gavin’s shop.
Gavin’s expression had hardened, and he hadn’t said anything.
“Went off to Daybreak Town—that’s what he said. Got letters for a while, and then things slowly just…stopped. They haven’t heard from him since.”
“I think,” Gavin had said, glancing back toward the shop—toward Elaine, who was still studying inside, “that you’d best stop spreading rumors. All you’re going to do is scare people.”)
It was a given, that Elaine would go; Mary couldn’t reasonably deny a Foreteller (even if Elaine was a child, even if they needed as many mages as they could get, even if things were dangerous), and Elaine was too excited to even consider turning down the invitation. But still, a pit opened in Mary’s stomach as she knelt in front of her daughter, tangling a stained glass pendant around her neck. It was one they’d made together, and Mary was only willing to part with it because she hoped it would grant her daughter some sort of protection. “May Light’s blessings fall on you,” she said, because if she said anything less formal, she might sweep her daughter back into her room and refuse to let her go—even at the demands of a Foreteller. “May Darkness guard you from the eyes of all who would seek to do you harm.”
And may the Great Heart welcome you, should you find yourself in need of rest.
She couldn’t bring herself to say the last part.
Elaine’s nose scrunched, like she thought it was funny that her mother was saying such things, but Master Ava’s hand landed on Elaine’s shoulder and tightened, and Mary, strangely, got the impression that she understood. “I’ll take care of her,” she promised.
Mary didn’t know if it was true. She didn’t think it mattered. In the end, she still had to watch her daughter walk down the road, bouncing excitedly as she chattered to a stranger in elaborate robes.
“It’ll be alright,” her own mother said, even if she didn’t entirely sound like she believed it. “The Foretellers are blessed; they’ll protect them.”
(They did not hear from Elaine again.)
#kingdom hearts#khux#kingdom hearts fanfic#my writing#this felt too short to go on ao3 so uh. here's a drabble!#i just. think a lot about what might've happened outside of daybreak town#what the world looked like#what people might've thought about the keyblade wielders#how parents might've felt about sending their children off to this strange place#not knowing what would happen to them#or if they'd hear from them again#so uh--have this!
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SAVIOR | SATORU GOJO
✮ Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader
✮ Synopsis: You were trapped in a monotonous life, every day was the same, same routine, same boring people, same boring boyfriend, untill one day it just changed.
✮ Warnings: Stalking, fainting, mentioned panick attack, anxiety
✮ Word count: 1.3k
✮ A/N: I'm thinking about making more parts obiously, but let me know what you think about it, if you like it or not. Also i'm still learning to put warnings so if anyone notice some missing please let me kno. Thank you!
✮ PS: Thank you @hyuneskkami for the blue dividers!! 🫶🏻😭
You were tired, all the days were the same schedule, every day that passed you were more tired, what you should do? You didn’t know, but you felt trapped in a loop, doing the same each morning, each midday and each night.
At 6:30 your boyfriend, who didn’t even want to marry you, after 7 years, you thought the day was coming, but it never happened. He wakes up, and instead of trying to be as subtle as he can so you can rest for 30 more minutes, he is the loudest person you’ve ever met. He goes to the bathroom and the only thing that you are praying is for him to just stay as quiet as he can.
At 7:00 your alarm goes off, and it’s a good thing that your boyfriend is now out of your room, so you can take a nice shower to try to stay calm and start the day nicely. You change into boring clothes, because after trying to be more stylish for a while, you noticed that everyone in the office stared at you, and at first you didn’t care, but after some time and lots and lots of whispering, laughter and mean looks, you started to be more like them.
By the time 8:00 rolls your boyfriend is already out of your tiny apartment and you eat your breakfast alone, the silence feels heavy, and you hate it, but still get trough it because in fifteen minutes you will be taking the train, because you’d be damned if your bf lends you the car you both paid for.
Then, from 9:00 to 17:00-17:30 you work your ass off and with just some time to eat your lunch and relax, and all you can really think about in that time is how you wished you’d be somewhere else, living your life fully, and even tho you were still young you felt like this was your life for the rest of your stance in the world.
Around 17:45-18:15 you finally get home, no boyfriend at sight, and you are very tired, but still have to do dinner and both of your lunches for tomorrow, because he didn’t like it when meals weren’t done, ‘cause if you spend so much time home why don’t use it wisely? If not you will be met with the consequences of your actions, or lack of them in this case.
When your boyfriend arrives at 20:00 the table is already set, and you are preparing the lunches for tomorrow and setting them in a place where he can see them or he’ll get mad.
You both eat and even though it hurts you, neither of you talks, and you still did not so long ago, but seeing that he didn’t care and didn’t listen, you just stopped. You should have left him long ago but can’t understand why you still haven’t. You blame it on the fact that flats are expensive and living with someone takes half of it off.
Around 21:00 you are in your bed ready to sleep but the TV from the living room is just so high, you’ve tried lots of different ways to stop the sound, lots and lots of ear plugs, but none worked, so now you roll on your bed until bf comes to bed and the TV is off.
At 23:00 when everyone is probably asleep, and you can hear your boyfriend snoring you wonder if there is really a meaning to life, if you are meant for this life and if this is how it’s going to be forever.
You hope it isn’t.
૮ ྀི◞͈ ˔ ◟͈ ྀིა
You woke up more happy this morning. Today you had to go shopping for groceries, and that broke your schedule a bit, and you liked that more than you let yourself to admit.
Around noon you got out and went shopping, walking around and getting to the center of the town seeing people expressing themselves made you feel alive again, but today felt different, you felt as if someone was watching you.
You let that pass as your brain tricking you. The thing is, you were indeed being watched by some white-haired man from some miles away.
You went home and started back your routine. It wasn't until some weeks later when you went out again, when that feeling of being watched came back, or rather stronger, because you'd been feeling it since that day when you went shopping.
You were walking around going to your trusted supermarket when you saw him, and how could you not? Even when he was sitting he stood out over everyone else.
Who was that white-haired guy sitting on a bench in front of your supermarket? Why was he wearing a blindfold? Why was he so...ethereal?
Deciding not to pay any attention to him, you get to get your groceries. Everything went well but after like an hour when you got out of there he was still there, and for you it seemed weird because even though he wasn't looking in your direction and wearing a blindfold, you still felt like he was watching you.
As always the longer route seemed more appealing so its the one you chose, half the rout in the feeling of being watched was still there. You couldn't shake it off, and then you saw him.
Even though the reflection wasn't the clearest you could identify him from miles away. Who could't? And he was... following you?
"No, no it must have been a coincidence he couldn't be following me, right" you thought, but still weren't sure at all.
After some more turns and straights, the reflection gave him away again.
"Now he is following for sure"
You speed up your peace and soon enough the entry to your building was right there. After looking at both directions and seeing the white hair weirdo wasn't there, you decided to enter.
૮ ྀི◞͈ ˔ ◟͈ ྀིა
The next week you felt watched every hour of the day, everyday, it was exhausting, at some point you even felt sick, it was very bad, your body was telling you to stop doing the thing that made you that anxious, you were anxious all the time, you. You thought you even had some small panick atacks.
One day while you were in the office your body had enough and you ended up blocking yourself in the bathroom.
You felt like everyone was watching your every move, you were out of your mind so you did what anyone would do, you took the day off and packed to get home.
Just after getting out you saw him, sitting on a bench but this time he was looking at you, or so you thought 'cause he was still wearing that blindfold.
At that moment, you freaked the fuck out, you started sprinting home, you didn't care about anything, after some meters you turned to another place, the police.
If he was still following you, he was going to meet the consequences.
When you arrived, you waited a minute to see if he was there, but he was nowhere to be seen, so you decided to go back home.
When you were taking the lift to your floor your heart was racing, you wanted to stay home forever, you swore if you saw him again you were truly filing a police report and moving to another country.
You opened the door to your flat, but there was something weird. You couldn't point at it but the feeling wouldn't go away. And then you saw him.
"What the fuck!"
Your reaction was to leave your apartment, but for some reason there was something blocking the entryway. It made the outside blurry and now that you noticed the light from the outside seemed blurry too.
When he moved, panick moved through your body and you couldn't move "fuck" you thought.
"Hey you don't need to worry, I'm not trying to do something bad to you, I'm here to talk about something important with you, it is..."
You couldn't even hear what he said because you fainted.
#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru x reader#x reader#female reader#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#jujutsu satoru#satoru gojo#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x you#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#jjk imagines#gojo fic
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The fires keeps spreading….please stop spreading 😭😭 winds please stop already 🙏🙏
Being surrounded by fires 😭😔 its getting me stressed and very concerned.
I’m going to stress reblog, if I’m more quiet today…that’s why.
Praying the winds die down and the fires get contained 🙏🙏🙏
#Hana rambles#currently updating my go bag#but the winds and the air conditions are really bad especially for my family#I’m extra worried because mom is 02 dependent and we have 02 tanks in the house#fire and 02??? do not mix 😭😭😭#there’s a fire that’s especially close by that has me edge#and I can feel my asthma already flaring fuck#we have a air purifier so that will help#but really hoping it doesn’t spread enough to evac#winds are supposed to die down tonight#god please please stop the winds 🙏🙏🙏#this is what I hate about my state#why haven’t they prepared for things like this??#why waste money on shit we don’t need or care for#we already lost power and all communications yesterday#won’t be surprised if that happens today too 😭😭😭
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hey this isn’t aimed at anyone in particular but I’m saying it for the record here: if I tell you no, please stop messaging me about fundraisers and mutual aid.
I get enough messages that it’s impossible for me to keep up without devoting at least half an hour each day, when I’m not even on tumblr that long most days. Me having a boundary about this isn’t a moral failing, it’s a lifeboat for me on my own blog.
In my personal life I’m already advocating and donating literally as much as I can spare. This is not me not caring, it’s just me not willing to interact with that on the one place I go online to not interact with irl news and world events for the most part.
I cannot be upset all the time. I cannot be upset everywhere. I cannot use all my emotional and mental energy fielding my own upset from ongoing events. My options are to hold boundaries about this or stop coming online at all.
I’m all for sharing information and signal boosting to reasonable extents, but the scale of it this year is so large and so enduring that it is literally not possible to for me to participate on every account I have. I’ve previously shared links to Gaza eSIM donations and a major hub of verified Go Fund Mes here and elsewhere online. We, the online humans, know how to look those things up ourselves by now. There are many, many people choosing to do advocacy work, and right now, I can’t be one of them.
If you’re extremely upset when I tell you I can’t share/donate right now about a Gaza family or personal fundraiser you ask me to share here, just unfollow and block me. That’s what those buttons are for. Protect your own emotions and energy and get me off your feed instead of staying upset and continuing to engage with online people or content that upsets you.
Please don’t send repeated angry messages based on manufactured purity politics and moral outrage into my messages and inbox when I exercise the right to run my own blog.
#and on that note#I also think some people need to sit down and ask themselves#if their old end times anxieties and fears and preparations and word spreading#haven’t filtered straight into a new non religious end of society and end of modern world order anxiety that they’re pushing on other peopl#even if it is the end times#you cannot change that by beating your own anxieties into other people’s heads#people can care MORE when they are GIVEN ROOM TO BREATHE#first rule of sustainable activism is you can’t do it constantly and you can’t push it on people constantly#you have to pace it and you have have have have HAVE to play long games#short term activism burns you out and if it leads to full despair from burnout it can get you killed via depression#it’s not a joke#there’s a reason your elders have books and community lore about healthy activism even in times of crisis#they lived it. they learned from it. learn from them.#spend your time doing things that can make real impacts.#do little things online but unless you’re an actual information hub you shouldn’t be posting constantly about it#people won’t even want to follow you anymore eventually because that’s not why they followed you#and then you have no audience for your important message anyway.#I know this. I learned it myself on other accounts.#please. stop. harassing me.#how is harassing me going to make me MORE willing to change my mind and post? just because you demanded it?#I am an autonomous person#this is my ONE curated space on the website#you have a multitude of tags and other users#don’t waste energy on a person who already told you no. let’s call that activism rule number two#spend your energy where it’s not likely to be wasted#you’re needed for a long haul#act like it 😭#and stop spamming me 😭#hey little star whatcha gonna queue?
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Listening to the Wicked soundtrack (shocker) and I never cry at movies but y’all….I feel like seeing For Good on the big screen might be the one thing to finally break me
#good thing it’s a two parter movie so I still have a whole year to prepare for the emotional turmoil that scene will cause me!#I do get emotional at movies but the emotion never presents itself in the form of tears#I feel emotions on the inside but movies just don’t make me cry I don’t know why#Pixar: we’ve made this film and everyone who’s watched it ended up sobbing buckets#me: cool. I liked it too. very touching#Pixar: but…but…you’re not crying#me: oh you haven’t heard?#wicked#wicked movie#for good#wicked for good
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Y’all, I just watched Dead Poets Society and I was not mentally prepared for this. I don’t know why, but I was really hoping it was gay lovers in a private school type of shit… NOPE. Suffice to say, I loved the movie, but I was not prepared to be this broken from it 😭😭😭
#dead poets society#dps#i don’t know why i thought it was going to a gay lovers type of thing#but i was not prepared for THIS#it was so good omg#and the acting#help#literally amazing and you should watch it if you haven’t yet#like seriously#80s movies#dead poets fandom
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been asked if i’ll make a hamlet version of my uquiz and truly like i get why you’d want me to do that but why would i do that when rosencrantz & guildenstern are dead exists
#if you haven’t seen it go watch it it rules#& tackles a lot of the same themes of fate and destiny that my quiz does#in more serious reasons: idk i feel like the impact of the hamlet one would be lessened? cause ppl already know that’s a tragedy#i mean ppl know that about r&j too but yknow it’s seen sorta as a corny stupid thing sometimes so the twist catches you off guard#no one misunderstands hamlet to be a beautiful romance or asks ‘well why didnt he check to see if ophelia was REALLY dead’#(god someone ask me about one of those common r&j complaints i have answers prepared for all of em)#and also straight up i would need to reread hamlet to do that lol. i’ve only read it once or twice a while ago. r&j i’ve read… idk#like… maybe 15 times if i had to guess? and these are the only shakespeare works i’ve actually read lol#well. plays. i’ve read some sonnets but yknow. i should read midsummer nights & othello & [redacted] & twelfth night yknow#anyway yeah it’s a r&j special interest not shakespeare in general#tho i would genuinely say tragedies are a special interest in and of themselves given how like. almost everything i’m into is one#crazwaz posted
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.
#the sctir brain rot is real even tho I haven’t picked it back up in literal months#just thinking about Han Yoojin and Yoohyun and Yerim and this is why I write fic for them. cause I just. SCREAM#I’m dumping a lot of my thoughts into the authors notes so that when I post it hopefully tmrw I can inflict damage#but it’s just. I love them so much. I have so many agonies scenarios for them#hyj loves his brother so much that he can’t just let him die nor be alone. he’s constructed his whole life of being a caretaker#and if he can’t be a caretaker then what is he? what has he spent his entire life doing?#hyh loves his brother so much that he knows that he can’t get hyj to leave him even if hyh is sure that’s the only way hyj can be safe#not that he wants it of course but he breaks away from hyj so violently because he’s seventeen and he misses his brother and he’s hurting#but this is the only way he can see to actually take care of his brother for once#cause there’s also the guilt you know? my situation is very different from there’s but I’m also a younger sibling lol#and don’t get me started on yerim… oh yerim my childddd#I think about scenarios for all of them and I’m like ach it’s all about love#and it’s the fact that love isn’t the only thing that goes into a relationship#veering more into au territory but the brothers love each other very much but that doesn’t mean that hyh isn’t afraid or bitter thinking#that yerim is sort of a redo/better version of him#cause like Yoojin is older now and more prepared to actually take care of a child and yerim is more outwardly likeable than Yoohyun ever was#and it goes on and on and on and damn I really need to do he#*hw. so gotta leave this rant in the tags#but YEAH anywyas that’s why I hate it when people are just like yh is possessive haha! like you don’t GET it.#esp when people take that to then mean shopping time 🤮🤢🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫#jkb.talk
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my tags got out of hand
i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.
and that should be fine; but it's never fine.
i am a pretty decent artist; but i can't just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can't just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.
for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i'm embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i'm too lazy. maybe i'm broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.
we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn't that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn't even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it's always something with you, and it never actually means anything.
i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i'll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just... stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it'll look in my monthly budget. what if i can't even produce a good enough final product. sure, it's exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i'm just polluting the earth if i don't get it right. better not bother. better not try.
restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don't have the time to just put to waste.
#oh my god i’m not the only person in the whole world who has Struggles and Difficulties#i am in pharmacy school which means i have no money no time etc and so every single thing that would bring an iota of joy or escape#must be cut for time because you haven’t studied for your exam next month so no you cannot start watching that the show.#and because you missed the deadline two weeks ago for that group project that the others did for you there will be no sitting at the piano#also you made a c and not a b on the exam yesterday so maybe instead of ordering takeout like you said you were going to#(because you know that you don’t buy real food on the rare occasion you go to the grocery store)#instead you’re gonna have to pick through your bare cabinets and empty fridge freezer for something. or just not eat#like you sometimes do#this is not a problem bc you’ve saved your money which you can’t afford to waste#that’s what they told you when you started: tell your friends you can’t see them much because a doctoral program is a time commitment#they said: you need to quit your side hustles and get an internship#they said: you need to ask for cleaning supplies for your birthday—and clothes and shoes bc tuition is very expensive#this isn’t some deficiency on your part. everyone else lives in isolation with no hobbies or entertainment too.#the only difference is that THEY spend all that time studying and reviewing and working and preparing—#while YOU are laying in bed all day because the thought of writing that paragraph is nauseating and tomorrows exam is slowly enveloping you#and you can tell because you had to retake those 2 classes and you have to retake another one this summer.#never mind that you still don’t know anything. just keep playing the part. stay afloat until this week’s exam is over#then you can worry about next week’s exams#(you WILL worry about next week’s exams)#learning the ukulele isn’t going to ease your stress it’s just gonna make you feel guilty#what do you mean you already feel guilty because you’ve pulled the ukelele out exactly twice since mom gave it to you for christmas?#that webseries updates 4 times a week. can you honestly tell me that you have 4 hours a week where you don’t feel shame#about not exceeding expectations anymore?#i thought not. close your compute— you didn’t even take it out of your bag.#do you ever take it out of your bag at home?#you don’t.#well i can see why you’re such a fucking failure#it’s 3:27 am but i won’t bother telling you to shower or brush your teeth- i know you don’t do that.#you went to bed three and a half hours ago now it’s time to sleep#maybe we’ll see what tomorrow has for us
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i adore you (can’t you see you’re meant for me?) — ft. sylus
sylus likes to sleep late in the mornings, and you like to admire him. the two are just a series of steps that bring you to where you are now: on top of him
❤︎ word count: 4.7k words — it’s literally all pure filth with no plot idk what to say atp
❤︎ before you read: female reader ; established relationship ; sleepy sylus ; banter and teasing ; reader rides his abs (do not look at me) ; praise kink (it goes both ways tbh) ; blow jobs ; cum eating ; reader has an obsession with his veins (it is her not me okay?) ; sylus wraps his hand around her throat (but no choking) ; body worship + one clit kiss ; nipple play ; morning sex ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; do not be fooled it is all pretty soft i promise
❤︎ comments: i am new to this game and i haven’t gotten too far go easy on me for this one :( i dedicate this to all my sylus loving nonnies in my inbox thanks for helping me figure out this game LOL. and kass. ily kass
Sylus sleeps more when the sun is out than when it’s not. You don’t mind it so much—not when the view is what it is.
(He’s pretty, and so is the sun. The two combined make for an even prettier picture. You think, if you weigh your options, there are certainly worse things out there than sitting beside your sleeping boyfriend and waiting for him to wake up.)
It’s hard to keep your hands to yourself, though. His hair is too tempting not to brush away from his face. And while your hand is right there, it’s a little impossible not to cup his cheek for a moment. And, well, if you’re already touching him, you might as well let your hand slide down to his chest and rub circles against the skin. He leans into your touch subconsciously anyway—it’s not hurting him. It’s helping.
(You like telling yourself plenty of things to justify your hand and his skin having an early morning rendezvous.)
“Bored, sweetie?” His voice is always deeper when laced with sleep than it usually tends to be. You stiffen, moving to pull your hand away, an apology already prepared on your lips for waking him when he catches your wrist, eyes still closed. “I didn’t say to stop, did I?”
“You’re ridiculous,” you huff, letting him guide your hand back to his bare chest. It rises and falls slowly, so warm and firm under your palm that it’s a little dizzying.
“Am I?” He cracks an eye open, “I was just enjoying a little tenderness. I wonder why I can’t ever seem to receive something so sweet when I’m awake.”
“Precisely this reason,” you say flatly. He raises a smug brow. Just to humor him, you add, “Your ego can’t handle it when you’re awake.”
“What, that you find me too irresistible not to touch?”
“Sylus, go back to sleep,” you grumble, shuffling away from him with a face that feels unbearably hot under his half-lidded gaze. “You’re easier to get along with that way.”
“I don’t know,” he all but purrs. In a swift motion—swift enough that you let out a shrill squeal—his hand tugs at your arm and pulls you close enough that he can hoist your body to sit on his lower belly. “We get along pretty well when we’re wide awake, don’t you think?”
His hand hikes up your (well, technically his) shirt and rests on your hip, nothing but the thin fabric of your panties separating you from him as you’re seated on top of him. You shiver lightly when his thumb caresses your hip bone, a satisfied hum pulling from his throat at the feeling of goosebumps rising against your skin.
“Sylus,” you breathe, squirming over him—but you can’t say much else because you cut yourself off with a soft gasp when you hear the distinct sound of something tearing.
Fabric.
More specifically, your fabric. Your underwear—which was a rather nice pair too, you think woefully—is torn into two pieces, one held in Sylus’s hand like some form of victory, while the other falls against his belly with nothing holding it together around your hips.
You blink. He gives you a large Cheshire grin.
“Sorry, sweetie,” he says, not so apologetically, “They were just in the way.”
“I liked those!” You hiss, glaring at him, “They were nice!”
“What, you don’t think I can buy you more? I could buy them faster than I could rip them, I’m sure.”
You have your doubts about that last part—but it’s still persuasive enough that you’re no longer as mad as you were just a moment ago. But you’re still petulant, pouting as you huff, “You ruin everything.”
“Mmh,” he hums, closing his eyes, voice still a low drawl from sleep as he says, “Are you sure? Because I can feel you dripping already, sweetheart.”
Shame floods your system quickly, but lust is faster. Stronger, too, perhaps—because you don’t have it in you to be ashamed for too long before you grow impatient. With a deeper pout, you press your hands against his chest, leaning lower until your mouth hovers over his.
“Can you blame me?” You breathe against his lips. “Just look at you.”
He stiffens. Just barely, of course. Just enough that you can hardly even detect it, but you do. You do because you know him. And you know that when Sylus teases, it’s really just to deflect from his need to shift the attention to yours—like he doesn’t want you just as bad. Like he’s not just as hard as you are wet in his boxers. Like he doesn’t need to feel you just as badly as you need to feel him.
But he likes to keep the upper hand. It starts with two hands on your hips, firmly squeezing them before slowly rocking them against his abs. Your bare cunt (courtesy of him destroying a perfectly good pair of panties) glides along the ridges and indents of his muscle. Very well-defined ridges and indents of muscle, too. You tense, letting out a shaky gasp as your clit rubs against his hard-planed physique.
“If you like it so much, why stop at just a look?” He chuckles, “You’re more than welcome to feel, too, sweetheart.”
He’s so sickeningly proud of himself, you can’t help but think bitterly as soon as your hips start grinding against him of their own accord. He’s so pleased and amused and deeply content with the sight of you falling apart over him. His eyes are hungry, and they don’t stray away from you for a single second. They don’t miss a single twist in your expression, nor do they have the decency not to stare shamelessly at the image of where your pussy meets his midsection, where your slick pools and coats his skin and makes it glisten as you make a mess on him.
He hums, large hands leaving your waist buried in their frames as they guide you at a slow, steady pace. “Bet that feels good, doesn’t it?” He grins—and oh, he’s aggravatingly happy as he laughs breathlessly, “You look like you’re about to fall apart. Don’t worry, I’m right here. You can’t fall far.”
You would say something smart if you could. Maybe even reach back and palm over his crotch that’s rudely tight against his boxers. But you can’t. Not when your clit rubs against his warm, heated skin and leaves jolts along your spine. All you can manage is a pathetic, “S-Sylus, please—”
“Oh? Please what? Please more?” He coos.
Something of a dull ache builds into this deep, throbbing need to feel your walls hug around something. To constrict around and latch onto something warm and big and full—something like him. Something like the way he fucks you into the mattress and makes you feel like he’s so deep in you, you can feel him in your throat.
That’s what you want—but of course, you’re naive if you think that’s what he’ll give. For now, at least. For now, he’ll tease, and tease, and tease until he can watch you crumble just the way he wants to witness. And you’re close to that, too—you know it, and so does he. He can tell by the way your wetness drips onto him in a messy pool, making your cunt drag against him easier, smoother. He can tell because he can all but feel the quiver of your walls clenching around nothing, empty and desperate for some sort of building friction. And he can especially tell because of your face—that devastating look on your face when you’re so close to the edge you can just practically cling to it with the tips of your fingers as it dangles teasingly in front of you.
“More,” you plead, “Want you. Want to feel you.”
“Oh, but you’re almost there,” he says in faux sympathy, soothing you with a sleepy, smug little grin. “Surely, you can take it just like this, can’t you? You’re better than that—I know you are.”
His words take you to the edge. You plummet off of it, in fact, practically collapsing against his chest as he holds you upright with a firm, strong grip and guides you through your orgasm. You gush around nothing, making a wet, sticky mess on his skin as you cum against him, grinding your clit as much as you can along every indent along his hard, built muscle.
“Sylus,” you whimper, “oh—f-fuck.” Your body quivers for a few more moments before you slump against him, burying your nose into his neck. “You’re despicable,” you bite the skin lightly.
He laughs. It’s low from the sleep that’s still clinging to his voice but boyish enough that your heart skips a beat. “Am I? You seemed to enjoy it.”
You shuffle to curl into him more, but your leg brushes against the bulge in his underwear—a small, barely-there sound pulls from his throat. Something caught between a gasp and a moan that makes you pause before you grin against the crook of his neck.
“Guess I should pay you back, hm?”
He watches, pupils dilated and eyes half-lidded as you pull away and kiss from his collarbone to his pecs. A rise of goosebumps litters his skin, too—just like they did on your skin earlier. You silently revel in that victory, making your way lower, lower, lower. But it’s painfully, obnoxiously, ridiculously slow.
“Don’t be a tease, sweetie,” he hisses, grunting as you kiss down his torso, the well-defined muscle of his abs flexing under every touch of your lips.
“Who, me?” You blink, batting your lashes sweetly, “Oh, I’d never, baby.”
Your lips graze over the skin that’s still marked with your essence as you kiss and suck along his torso, a trail of marks left in your wake and declaring him yours. You can taste yourself from just a few moments ago—the moments when you rocked your hips into him and fell apart, when he held you through it with a sleepy smirk. The image of his smug face makes you glance up at him with a flustered look, and almost as if he already knows, his gaze is on you. Waiting. Smug here in person just as much as he was in your memories.
“What a naughty thing,” he drawls, teasing glint in his eyes. “Did you get a taste of yourself? I’m sure now you have an idea of why I find it so…addictive, don’t you?”
He’s filthy. Cocky, too. And more often than not, he’s absurdly prepared with smart comments. Just to even the playing field a little, you decide he could use a little relentless teasing of his own.
“Oh, I can think of a thing or two just as addictive,” you smile innocently—and just like that, you lean in to kiss against a pale, blue line across his porcelain skin, pulling away to admire the veins that mark his body. Something in you aches for him all over again—something that you don’t like to admit happens from just the sight of something like his veins. But you pay careful attention to them anyway, leaning down and pressing soft, feather-like kisses against his lower belly, feeling him stiffen tightly underneath you as his breath gets labored and slightly erratic.
He’s impatient. You glance down at him, cock hard and strained against his boxers, the beginnings of a wet patch dampening the skin from pre cum dribbling from his tip. You almost feel bad.
Almost.
“Don’t you ever get tired of your games?” He grits, involuntarily twitching his hips to chase some friction.
“I could ask you the same question,” you snort.
“Yet, it seems I’m always the one spoiling you,” he retorts.
There’s some bit of merit to that, you suppose. So you give in, humming as you kiss along his v-line, one finger looping under his waistband while giving a small tug downwards. He lifts his hips instantly, letting you pull off the offensive piece of clothing that separates him from your touch.
It’s flushed, his cock. Swollen, flushed with a pretty rosy shade at the tip, and glistening with leaking pre cum. You lean and give the thick vein along the underside a series of kisses tracing upwards before pressing a delicate one to his tip. He groans, and his cock twitches at the contact, his eyes fluttering closed as he bites his lip.
“Pretty,” you observe, smiling softly at the sight of him.
He scoffs, lips almost a pout as they curl into a frown. “Then do something about it,” he insists.
You think you’ve sufficiently teased him enough, so you do—you take him into your mouth slowly, inch by inch, as your tongue and the wet heat of your mouth envelop him and make him tense for a moment before his body goes slack. A deep, throaty groan rings through the room, the sound making something do a flip in your lower belly.
“Fuck,” he whispers, breathing heavily. “You…you’re so good at this.”
The praise does something to you that you’re not proud of. Some flash of an ache deep in your core that you don’t want to focus on, so you pay closer attention to him instead. Your tongue swirls over his tip as your head bobs up, tracing down that pretty vein of his as you take him down your throat once more. What you can’t fit in your mouth—because there is enough of him that you can’t fit in your mouth—you pump with your fist, wrapped around the base of his shaft.
Sylus has a lot of veins. You admire them long enough to know them all by heart. The ones along his hands that you love to trace when you hold them in yours. The ones along his arm that you love to eye when he’s working out. The ones along his abdomen that you trace every once in a while with the tip of your finger when you have him to yourself in private. And the long, pretty one along this inner thigh—the one you see only when you’re like this: between his spread-out legs with your mouth around his cock.
Your free hand moves to lay over this thigh, gently rubbing into the skin as if to anchor him as he throws his head back and groans. Your eyes are trained on him, staring up at the twists of pleasure in his expression and the crinkles in his eyes as he closes them tightly and moans. But you don’t have to look at your hand to know your thumb is tracing along that vein. You know it better than you know yourself, you think—his body is so easy to memorize. So easy to get to know and keep ingrained in your brain forever.
His thigh flexes under your touch, and you hum around him, the vibrations around his length making his breath hitch as he curses under his breath.
You pull away with nothing but a string of saliva connecting you to him, his eyes glancing down at you sharply for the interruption. But you smile, equal parts soft and equal parts smug. Gently, you press a wet kiss to his thigh, right over the same pale blue line you traced just moments ago, as you murmur, “You’re so pretty. You know that?”
“I’m flattered,” he says tightly, warily staring down at you with hungry, desperate eyes. “I’m sure you can save the flattery for later, though, can’t you?”
“But what if you think I’m just using you for your body?” You gasp dramatically, “Can’t have that, you know. I have to appreciate you more.”
“Teasing can easily be reciprocated, you know, sweetheart,” he grits, “Or have you forgotten that so quickly?”
“Oh, I’m aware. I’ll take my chances.” Your lips trail up his thigh until it reaches the base of his cock. You press another kiss against it, murmuring a quiet, “I love you.”
His cock twitches—it’s like it responds to every soft word of affection and every littlest bit of praise. For all the denying and for all the impatience, too, Sylus loves the attention. Thrives under it, even—it does something to his ego that you know you probably shouldn’t help stroke, but you can’t help it.
You press one more kiss to his swollen tip before murmuring, “Mine,” and then you take him down your throat once more—faster this time. Your head bobs up and down his length, lips wrapped around him as you swallow every now and then.
His hand flies to his hair, tugging at the soft, silvery strands as he groans deeply, hips pushing up to meet your pace and thrust deeper into your mouth.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he hisses, “Just like that, sweetheart—shit.”
He spills down your throat not too long after. Warm, sticky ropes of cum that paint your mouth with every twitch of his cock, filling you enough that some spills from the corner of your mouth, dripping along your face and collecting at your chin. You swallow what you can, working him through his orgasm, listening to the sweet, lust-hazed sounds he makes as pleasure burns through every nerve of his body.
He slumps back when he’s finished, panting with an arm over his eyes while you wipe your chin and swallow before climbing up his body and slumping on top of him. He wraps an arm around your waist instantly, humming lowly as his large, warm hand rubs into your lower back.
“Had your fun?” He raises a brow.
You grin cheekily, kissing his jaw as you murmur, “I think you had more fun than me, but what do I know?”
He chuckles. It’s low, and the sound vibrates through his chest so that you can feel it under you. There’s a small bead of sweat along his temple, and his face is flushed a soft shade of scarlet that you admire—it brings out the deep crimson of his eyes even more from here.
“You’re so pretty,” you whisper.
“How many times will you remind me of that?” He asks, bringing a hand to your chin, tilting your face up, and inspecting you carefully. “You’re making me feel bad. I haven’t reminded you how stunning you are nearly enough times.”
“You could always start now,” you wink, “It’s never too late.” He laughs again. Deep, genuine, soft. Sylus is a lot of things. You think your favorite is in love.
“Do I really have to remind you?” He whispers, voice husky as he slowly shifts your body to lay under his, flipping you over as he hovers over you. “You don’t already know how beautiful you are—how you drive me insane?”
“A reminder wouldn’t hurt,” you blink innocently. “What if you’re secretly getting tired of me?”
His eyes flash with something dangerous at that. You only meant it as a joke, of course—he loves deeply. So deeply, you don’t think you’d escape him even if you wanted to. (Not that you do, of course. You’re quite happy knowing your place is beside him.) You know he’s never tired of you—quite the opposite, in fact.
But you like teasing him. Getting under his skin enough that his hand moves to your throat and wraps around it firmly—not quite tight enough to block your air flow, but enough to serve as a light warning.
“You think I would get tired of you?” He challenges. Offended. In disbelief. “Tired of this?”
Just like that, the familiar sound of fabric tearing rings through your ears again. It’s a sound you seem to be getting more and more used to the longer you date Sylus. And yet, every time, it pulls the same sound of disbelief from your throat as you gasp at his audacity. But before you can speak, before you can scold him for ripping your (his) favorite shirt straight off of your body, his hands curve around your tits, molding against them perfectly as if they were made to cup them. His thumbs roll over your nipples, humming in approval as you whine softly at the feeling.
“Sylus,” you pant. (Regretfully, you think that’s the only collection of syllables you can manage anymore on this fine morning.) “W-wait—”
“Wait?” He pretends to gasp in shock, “But we’re just getting started. I was just about to show you all my favorite parts of you—they never get old. Would you like to see?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he leans down, latching his lips around one pebbled nipple, sucking and nipping lightly at it as his thumb rolls over and pinches the other one. Your back arches into his touch, a soft moan spilling from your lips as he grins against your chest.
“Here’s a favorite, for starters,” he murmurs. “And here—” he kisses along your belly and makes his way to your hip bone, biting lightly at the flesh and making your breath hitch, “—this is certainly a memorable place too, isn’t it? Can’t keep my hands off of it.”
Finally, his hands slowly pull your legs apart, exposing the wet, dripping mess that is your cunt, folds puffy and waiting for him. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your clit, smiling at the small whimper you let out from the sensitive touch before he says through a low, breathy whisper, “This, however…this has to be my favorite part of all.”
“Okay,” you whine, pulling at his arms with a plea, “I get it, okay? I need it, please.”
“Well then,” he huffs out a soft laugh, “Who am I to deny?”
He’s level with you before you can blink—mouth on yours with a heavy, heated kiss that sends your brain into a fogged state as you kiss back. All you can register is soft flesh, pressure against your mouth, the taste of his tongue on yours, and hot and heavy breath seeping into your lungs while he inhales yours. It’s slow, the way he kisses you—but still undeniably needy. He chases after your mouth as soon as you pull away to breathe, a soft gasp pushing past his throat at the loss of contact. As if it might kill him. As if he might die without your breath down his throat, keeping him alive.
“Do you want it, sweetheart?” He breathes erratically, “Because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”
“I want it,” you practically beg, “I want you.”
He’s hard again—stiff between his legs and throbbing at your words enough that his cock does a little jerk on its own, like it’s responding to you itself. He drags it along your entrance, rolling slow circles against your folds and coating his tip in your slick, earning a sharp inhale from you as he groans at the teasing friction against the head of his cock.
“I always want you,” he breathes.
He pushes past your folds as he speaks the words against your mouth, letting you swallow up the low moan he lets out as your walls wrap around him little by little. It’s painstakingly slow. Inch after inch after inch until the blunt head of his length presses deep into you, nudging against a soft, sensitive spot in your walls that makes your whole body react with a quiver. He curves into you perfectly, thick and deep and so, so full.
“Ready?” He smiles tenderly, gripping the fat of your thighs and hooking them around his waist, leaning to kiss one of your knees as you melt into the mattress and nod.
“Please,” you whine, “Need it—need you.”
There’s a sharp thrust of his hips at that—he pulls out until he’s almost completely left your warm cunt before slamming back in past your folds, pressing mercilessly against your sensitive spot. It’s partly because he has your body memorized but mainly because his body is practically made to mold into you. It’s like he fits you perfectly, curves into the shape of your body like the shape of his was hand-made to pair with yours.
When Sylus fucks you is when you see past his exterior the most. When his eyes hold the most emotion, staring at you like he can’t believe you’re his. When his hands shake for once because he doesn’t know if he deserves the weight of you in his hold. When his breath is the most labored and uncontrolled because you steal every breath from his lungs, and selflessly, he gives up air for you. When sweat coats his skin and makes his hair cling to his forehead because when he loves you is when his body is most responsive, most affected.
When Sylus fucks you is when you love yourself most. Because how could you not when he pays such close attention to you? Thumb finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles just the way he knows drives you crazy, watching your face closely for every reaction? How could you not when close is not nearly close enough, when he presses his chest against yours and buries his face into your neck to all but melt under your skin? It makes you feel desirable. Beautiful. Lovable.
So easy to want.
So easy to lose control to.
So easy to need.
“You feel that, don’t you?” He mumbles, panting harshly as he grunts when you squeeze around him at the sound of his labored voice. “Feel me? How badly I need you? How crazy you drive me? Feel how hard I am for you? Don’t tell me you think I’d ever get tired of that.”
“I know,” you whine, “I know, I know, baby—I promise.”
You let out a small squeal when he angles your leg higher, thrusting deeper into your cunt, pressing harshly where you need him most with his tip in a dizzyingly punishing pace and a harshly rough deepness that makes your vision blur. Almost go blank, even.
“Tell me you love me,” he demands.
“I love you!”
“Tell me you need me,” he adds, so selfish and needy for your approval. To know you’re nothing without him like he’s nothing without you.
“N-need…fuck, I need you,” you stumble over your words as your orgasm comes closer and closer, creeping up on you enough that you can’t catch your breath fast enough to keep up with him.
“Tell me you’re mine.” This time, it comes out as almost a plea.
“Yours,” you sob, body on the precipice of breaking all over again, “Yours, yours, yours.”
You cum as soon as you say it. Harder than maybe ever—it’s like being reminded that you’re his makes your body react tenfold. You fall apart with a shrill cry of his name, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a bruising kiss as your nails press indents into his skin.
He groans in pleasure at the slight pain, melting against your lips, an open-mouthed, wet kiss working him up to his own orgasm. His first one was a slow build-up—but this one happens quickly, coming out of nowhere and hitting him full force, his hips stuttering for a moment and losing rhythm as he sloppily thrusts into you.
Yours. Yours. Yours.
Your voice rings in his ears, aiding him through his pleasure as he fucks his thick, sticky release deep into your folds, sharp thrusts that match the harsh twitching of his cock.
“Ngh,” he grunts, “Sh-shit, sweetheart.”
Finally, when you’re both done, breaths frenzied and harsh as you try to make up for the lost air in your lungs, he slumps over your body and hides his face into the crook of your neck, practically purring as your shaky hand buries into his sweaty locks and strokes the soft, silvery strands.
It’s quiet, just the sound of your breathing eventually shifting from heavy to slowed as you finally catch it, the quivering of your body dissipating, too. Your fingers journey their way from his scalp to the back of his neck, lightly making a feather-soft trail along his bare back as he shivers from the touch.
“Don’t fall asleep after I showed you a good time,” you pout, “It’s rude.”
“You were the one that woke me for a good time,” he mumbles, amused. “That’s equally as rude.”
“I did not,” you huff, “You were the one who escalated it. I just wanted a peaceful morning.”
“I don’t know,” he grins against your skin, pressing a chaste, warm peck where it's closest to his lips, “I’m feeling pretty at peace, wouldn’t you agree?”
so uh..........basically i got the card where u measured him for clothes and i saw a vein in his abs and lost my mind. so. here is the product of that. i REFUSE to be told this is not a completely totally normal reaction. thank you!
#—rivistyping!#sylus x reader#sylus x mc#sylus x you#sylus x y/n#sylus smut#love and deepspace sylus#love and deepspace x reader#lds x reader#lads x reader#l&ds x reader#lnds x reader#love and deepspace smut#lds smut#lads smut#l&ds smut#lnds smut#l&ds sylus
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Hi!! Could you please write something for Spencer where r is used to men being like really loud and rough and all that (maybe bc of her father or smth) and just her getting used to how gentle Spencer is and almost thinking it’s too good to be true?
Thank you for requesting angel <3
Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 905 words
It happens when you’re still half asleep. You fumble for your phone on Spencer’s nightstand, your alarm chiming, and knock a picture frame off instead. You’re fully awake by the time you hear the sound of glass shattering against the floor.
You mumble a curse. Spencer hums questioningly into his pillow.
You get down from the bed, managing to step over the glass, but you’re not thinking clearly enough. When you sink onto your knees, little shards prick the skin. You pick the frame up carefully. It’s a picture of Spencer and his mom. An old one, of her chasing a three or four-year-old Spencer around someone’s yard. They’re both laughing, her arms outstretched towards him and his face turning to look over his shoulder. It’s obviously a sentimental photo.
Your cursing intensifies, though you keep it internal now. You feel awful.
Spencer’s head appears over the edge of the bed as you’re scraping the glass into a pile. His eyes are half-open, expression still weighted with drowsiness.
“What happened?” he asks.
There’s no accusation in his tone, but you feel suddenly teary. You haven’t fought with Spencer yet, and you weren’t expecting to be yelled at first thing this morning. You suppose you’ve earned it, though.
“Spence, I’m so sorry.”
“What are you doing?”
“I—I knocked over your picture. The frame broke. I feel awful, I’ll get you a new one o—or I can replace the glass if the frame is important to you.”
“What?” Spencer blinks, brows furrowed as though he’s having trouble grasping this. “No, it’s—stop. Don’t do that.”
You still, looking up at him hesitantly with your hands cupped around the glass pile. “What do you want me to do?”
“You can’t clean glass up with your hands.” He shuffles his way out from under the covers, taking a big step over the class to stand behind you. His hands wrap around your elbows. “Get away from there.”
His tone conveys some upset, but not nearly as much as you were prepared for. And his grip on your arms is gentle. You can’t make sense of it.
You let him guide you into the bathroom, sitting up on the counter when he prompts you. Spencer takes your hands in his, looking them over and brushing his fingers lightly across your palms before determining there’s no glass in them. His eyes skim you over. When they land on your knees, his expression pinches.
“Why did you do this?” You expect him to grasp your knee roughly, but his fingers wrap around it with care, thumb rubbing over the soft underside as though to soothe you.
“I wasn’t thinking,” you say softly. “I feel so bad about the picture with your mom, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Spencer sounds surprised. His eyes flit up to yours, soft brown, curious. “I can get a new frame. You didn’t need to hurt yourself.”
“Well, I didn’t do it on purpose.” Your voice drops to a murmur as Spencer bends down, opening a drawer to take out first aid supplies.
He pulls each tiny piece of glass from your knees with heart-aching care. One hand stays on the back of whichever knee he’s working on, to steady him and to comfort you, and it’s a slow, attentive, tender process. Gradually, a realization seeps into you.
Spencer isn’t going to blow up at you. Maybe someday, but not about this, not over just anything. You’re not sure how you could have been so expectant of someone who’s been nothing but kind and gentle with you turning harsh and forceful at the first upset.
You don’t even wince as Spencer cleans up your knees. He’s careful to give you no reason to, every touch considerate and sweet. He straightens after smoothing bandages over the cuts, still holding your lower thighs in his hands.
“That wasn’t a very nice way to wake up,” he says. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you say, but you hold your arms out for a hug anyway.
Spencer’s happy to oblige you, his hips fitting between your legs and palms sliding across your back. He smells like sleep. You hook your chin over his shoulder, contentment filling your belly like warm honey.
“You seemed upset,” he murmurs, a question if you choose to answer it.
“I was nervous,” you admit. “I thought you’d be mad.”
“For knocking the frame over?”
“Mhm. I still feel really bad.”
Spencer draws a line between your shoulders. “Don’t feel bad. You didn’t do it on purpose.”
You hum. “You’re a lot less loud than most guys, do you know that?”
He pauses. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No.” You pull away from him, cradling his face in your hand. “I’m just not used to it, is all. I keep expecting you to yell at me, but that doesn’t seem like it’s really your thing.”
“I guess I don’t think of it as my thing,” Spencer agrees, mouth curving as he repeats your words. “My mom says I was always a quiet kid. I guess I just never thought yelling would get me anywhere.”
“Don’t start.” You grin, and his cheek dimples under your palm. “I like you like this.”
“Okay, I’ll try not to.” He tilts his face into your touch. His hands drop back to your knees, skimming down the unharmed sides next to the bandages. “And you shouldn’t get angry at yourself on my behalf anymore, either.”
#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid hurt/comfort#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid one shot#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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# DAMN BABY .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱
☆ PAIRING : Batboys x Fem Reader
☆ SYNOPSIS : When you smack their ass.
☆ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, 90s Tim Drake, Duke Thomas, Damian Wayne.
☆ NOTE : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!
☆ BRUCE WAYNE
You are never getting this opportunity again. Bruce is standing in the kitchen, wearing sweatpants. His back is turned. The ass is right there. You act on impulse. SMACK. Bruce freezes. You grin, leaning against the counter. “Damn, Daddy Wayne. Is that Batcake for me?” The silence is deafening. Bruce slowly turns his head, staring at you like you just committed a felony in broad daylight. “…Excuse me?” You wink. “You heard me, sweetheart.” Bruce stares for ten more seconds. Then, without a word, he leaves. OH NO. You realize too late what you’ve done. Bruce is disappearing into the Batcave. You hear him booting up the Batcomputer. “…Bruce?” TAP. TAP. TAP. He’s typing furiously. You peek over his shoulder. He’s running an analysis. On himself. “BRUCE—” “I need to reassess my stealth levels,” he mutters. “If you could land that strike, I’ve grown careless.” OH MY GOD.
☆ DICK GRAYSON
You see him walking down the hallway, all smug and confident, wearing those tight jeans he knows make people insane. You can’t help yourself. You smack it. Hard. SMACK. Dick gasps.
LOUDLY. “Damn, Grayson,” you whistle, “is that thing double-cheeked up on a Thursday?!” Immediate. Dramatic. Reaction. Dick clutches the wall like he’s fainting. Then—he spins around so fast he almost trips. “Babe.” His eyes are wide, teary, shaking. “DO YOU MEAN IT?” You blink. “Huh?” Dick grabs your hands. “Say it again. Say it with your whole chest.” “…What.” “Do you mean it? Do you mean the ass thing?” “…Yeah?” Dick grins so wide he looks insane. He winks at you before immediately turning around and sticking his ass out. “Go ahead, babe. One more for the road.” “OH MY GOD.” You are never doing this again. Maybe.
☆ JASON TODD
Jason is minding his business. Jason is walking past you. Jason’s fat ass is asking for it. You strike. SMACK. Jason IMMEDIATELY turns, hand on his gun. OH SHIT. You throw your hands up. “WAIT—” His eyes narrow. Suspicious. Dangerous. Then—he relaxes. “…Did you just smack my ass?” You grin. “Yup.” He blinks. Then—he smirks. “…Oh.” You squint. “Why do you sound happy?” Jason shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Nah, it’s just funny.” You relax. “Good, ‘cause—” SMACK. JASON JUST DROPPED HIS WHOLE BODYWEIGHT INTO SLAPPING YOUR ASS BACK. YOU FLY ACROSS THE ROOM. “JASON, YOU FUCKING PSYCHO.” Jason just cackles.
☆ 90s TIM DRAKE
Tim is exhausted. Tim has had three hours of sleep in the past two days. Tim is running on caffeine, crime, and sheer force of will. So, naturally—you strike when he’s at his weakest. SMACK. Tim jumps so hard he drops his coffee. “WHAT—” He spins around, eyes wide, looking like a scared raccoon You grin. “Damn, baby bird. You always keep that wagon on you?” Tim stares. Tim processes. Tim crashes. He grabs his head like he’s having an existential crisis. “Oh my God.” “Tim?” “Oh my God.” He’s stumbling backwards, running into the table. “I—I was not prepared for this.” “Tim, breathe—” “I HAVEN’T EVEN FINISHED PUBERTY. AM I EVEN LEGALLY ALLOWED TO HAVE A WAGON?” “TIM—” He grabs your shoulders, looking deep into your soul. “…Do I actually have ass?” You blink. Tim shakes you. “TELL ME THE TRUTH.”
☆ DUKE THOMAS
Duke is chilling. Duke is relaxed. Duke is having a nice, peaceful day. So, naturally—you ruin it. SMACK. Duke immediately whips around, betrayal in his eyes. “EXCUSE ME?” You lean against the counter, smirking. “Damn, sunshine. Didn’t know you were carrying all that.” Duke freezes. Then—he laughs. “Oh, word?” He steps closer. You narrow your eyes. “…Duke?” “Oh, word?” He’s too calm.Too smug. He leans down, real close, real quiet. “…Bet.” Then—he disappears. For three days. And when he returns—he waits. Until you’re completely unsuspecting. Until you’re relaxed. Until you think it’s over. And then— SMACK. “DUKE—” “EQUALITY.”
☆ DAMIAN WAYNE
You spot him. You see the perfect opportunity. Damian is standing by the window, arms crossed, looking all broody and serious. SMACK. The moment your hand connects, Damian jumps like he’s been electrocuted. Then—he spins around with his sword half-drawn. “WHO DARES—” You grin. “Damn, baby. Didn’t know you were packing all that.” Silence. Pure, horrified silence. Damian just stares. Then—he slowly processes what you just said. His entire face turns red. “You—you dare—” He grabs his chest like he’s having a heart attack. “You speak of my body so… so FILTHILY?” You cackle. “Yes.” He looks away sharply. “This… this is inappropriate.” “And?” “…Say it again.” “…What.” “Say it.” “…Damian, are you—” “SAY IT.”
𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.
#🕊️. dc comics#ㅤㅤ⠀ㅤ 𓇼ㅤ ㅤ𓂂ㅤㅤ ˚ㅤㅤ ◌ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏#bruce wayne x y/n#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x female!reader#dick grayson x you#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#tim drake x you#tim drake x fem!reader#tim drake x reader#tim drake#tim drake x y/n#duke thomas#duke thomas x reader#duke thomas x you#damian wayne x you#damian x reader#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x female reader#damian wayne x y/n#dc x female reader#dc x reader
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𝙄 𝙇𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙈𝙮 𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 | 𝙎.𝙅.
Pairing — Virgin! Sim Jaeyun x Experienced! (F) Reader
Synopsis — Sim Jaeyun had a normal life. He was just a regular guy that worked in a small cafe and made coffee for customers. What he didn’t think was normal though, was that he was a virgin at the age of 22. Embarrassing enough, he never jerked off. Ever. Why you ask? Well, because he didn’t know how to. He watched porn videos from time to time, but never acted upon himself to jerk off. So what happens when he sees you enter the cafe for the first time and is in struck? Will he act upon to ask you out? Or will he scurry away like a puppy because he’s a virgin?
Genre — Crack, Smut, Angst
Warnings — MINORS DNI!!!, Jay and Sunghoon are Jake’s BFFS (saying this as a warning bc they are chaotic asf), Cursing, Reader is big money rich, Arguments, Name calling (Idiot and etc.), Switch! Jake (mostly sub), Jake is a somewhat pervert & awkward mess, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Loss of virginity, Making out, Jake has a big dick, Jake is bad at sex (but it’s ok bc reader helps him <3), Receiving (m&f), Sex (Unprotected, Sloppy, Rough, Cloth), Jerking off, Cum swallowing, Humiliation, Grinding, Eating out, Jake is a pussy drunk, Multiple orgasms, Crying, Hickeys, lmk if i miss anymore!
Wc — 10.7k
A/n — I spell experiment & experience wrong so bear with me. Anyways, happy to say I’m back to making fics! U could kind of tell I gave up on some parts so sorry abt that :/ I also wanted to make it longer BUT oh well (might be a part 2 but who knows)! I hope u guys like this one <3 It was kind of shitty since I had no idea what I was going for but it was worth a shot. If u would like to be on the perm taglist click here! Like, Reblog, Comment, etc.! Not proofread!
masterlist here
“How do people like extra bitter coffee?”
Sunghoon questioned with a cup of bitter coffee in his hand, holding it close to his face to examine it. Jake, on the other hand, was wiping down the dirty counter. The morning was in full business, and the only thing heard in the cafe was the chatter of customers and the espresso machine. Jake chuckled at Sunghoons comment. He always judged what people ordered and the funny thing is, Sunghoon didn’t like coffee at all. He only applied to work at a cafe was because Jake didn’t wanna be alone. What also came as a moment was when Jay also offered to work too.
He glanced at the next order slip and began preparing a caramel macchiato, his hands moving with ease. They haven’t been working here for a long time, just a few months. They get paid pretty well so Jake really didn’t have nothing to complain about other than the shitty customers that would come around to argue with them. Sunghoon would usually escort them out because Jay would pick a fight. Jake finished the coffee and went up to the front, "Caramel macchiato for Sarah!" Jake called out, placing the drink on the counter. A young woman stepped forward with a grateful smile, taking the coffee from his hands and offering a shy ‘Thank you’. Jake returned the smile before turning back to the next order.
As he made the next coffee, Sunghoon leaned against the counter, letting out a long sigh, "I'm tired already, and it's only been four hours," Sunghoon muttered, rubbing his eyes. Jake watched Sunghoon, noticing the growing eyebags, but didn’t notice them until now in the bright lights. Sunghoons been working overtime lately due to his girlfriend and him recently having a fight. It wasn’t the first one they had, but clearly this was one of the worst ones. That’s what Jake also didn’t like. Fights in relationships.
Jake chuckled softly although he knew Sunghoon was having trouble. The only thing you can do is just comfort, "Don't worry about it. We're almost done. Just a little longer."
Sunghoon groaned, looking at the clock on the wall. The time is ticking slow and dreadful, "I hope so. I can't wait to go home and sleep.”
Jake laughed, shaking his head as he poured steamed milk into a cup, "You'll make it. Just think about that comfy bed waiting for you."
Sunghoon frowned, pushing himself off the counter. "Yeah, that sounds good right about now." He spoke sarcastically.
The two continued their work despite the exhaustion they were both feeling. It was a bit more bearable with having a coworker like Sunghoon by his side. They would joke around about anything together, along with Jay. Speak of the devil, the door to the back room swung open, and there behold Jay with a wide grin on his face.
"Fucking finally!" Jay said, his excitement palpable. "I've been texting back and forth with this girl all morning. She's planning something special for tonight. I bet I’m gonna get laid.”
Sunghoon rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed, "This is like, what? The fifth girl you’ve talked too?Some of us are just trying to survive the day here. And what do you mean all morning? Have you’ve been doing your job?” Sunghoon ranted.
Jay raised his hands up, “It’s not my fault I haven’t had sex in a while. Besides, the last girl I had sex with didn’t want me wearing a condom! I ran out of there before she could say anything else.” He replied.
Sunghoon said something back, but Jake stayed quiet, zoning out. This is when he often felt out of place. He admired Jay's conversation about girls and sex, but couldn't quite relate to it. Sure he had a fair share of doing little dates with some chicks, but each time it always ended up with one of them saying they wanna have sex, which Jake didn’t want at the moment. They would then get mad and upset but can you really blame him?
Jay, oblivious to Sunghoon's irritation, continued, "Seriously, you guys should find someone to fuck. It makes everything so much better. Like, even this job feels less tiring when I know I have something to look forward to later at night."
Sunghoon sighed, shaking his head, "Yeah, yeah, Jay. We get it. You're a horny man. Now, can we please focus on getting through this shift?"
Jay rolled his eyes and scoffed, grabbing an apron, tying it around his waist, "Alright, alright. But seriously, you guys should think about it."
The three of them resumed making coffee and taking orders from customers. Despite the differences in their personalities, Jake thought they worked well together, each bringing something unique to the team. As the last customer left the cafe, the three of them let out a drawn sigh in unison.
Sunghoon stretched his back and let out a noise in satisfaction, “Finally, we can go home.” He hummed. Jake agreed, taking off the apron and hanging it on the hanger.
Jay did the same, “Well I’ll see you guys on Monday then. Boutta get some head.” He said. Sunghoon groaned in disgust.
Jay left while Jake and Sunghoon tidied up the place for the next workers tomorrow. After they finished they stepped out of the cafe with Sunghoon locking the door. The sun was already slowly setting, they should be getting paid for working overtime at this hour. Not many of the employees do.
“I’ll see you Monday?” Sunghoon asked. Jake nodded and smiled. They bid each other goodbye and headed in different directions.
Jake walked along the familiar path from the cafe to his apartment, the weight of the day bearing down on his shoulders. He wished he had a girl to go home too like Sunghoon. He could just imagine seeing her laying on the couch or watching TV in the living room. The closer he got to his apartment, the more the loneliness seeped into his bones. He really did wish for someone, anyone, to be there, but there was no one. Just him and the four walls that enclosed his existence. Finally, he reached his building. He took out his keys as he came face to face with his door and opened it with a click. He entered his apartment, closing the door behind him with a sigh. The silence not making anything better.
He took off his shoes, setting them on a rack near his door and headed straight to his bedroom. Changing into more comfortable clothing, he felt a slight sense of relief, though it did little to lift the heavy feeling in his chest. Deciding to stay distracted, he made his way to his laptop at his desk. He grabbed it and sat comfortably in his bed. He opened his laptop and went on Google, searching pornhub.com. There popped up different websites of porn, and yet none seemed to take his interest. He scrolled through all of them and decided to click on a random one.
Different videos of men and women having sex popped up. He scanned through the tags — missionary, pretzel, doggy style, milfs, young teen, it could go on. He clicked on one that seemed interesting.
Young teen girl getting pussy pounded by Dilf Dad- Very Hot!
Jake watches as the girl was sitting comfortably on a pink bedsheet. Collages of drawings in the background on the white wall. She was wearing a little skirt that showed her whole silk panties. Her hair was in a slick back bun. To Jake, she looked like an innocent girl. Then a man comes into view and faces the girl as she looks up. Jake couldn’t see everything, but he could see the Dad rubbing on the girl's cheek smoothly. She dipped her head closer to his palm, almost as if she was savoring it. Jake didn’t know what else happened before it cut to a scene where the girl was a moaning mess as the Dad fucks her roughly. He pulled her hair making her back arch like a bow. She let out sinful moans and pants leaving Jake wide eyed and wanting to hear more.
He hissed when he felt his computer rub along his now hard cloth dick. He lifted it up and saw his strained sweatpants. He groaned and set his laptop on the side of him and rubbed his dick awkwardly. Fuck, he really doesn’t know what to do. He let in a pitiful whine when he gripped and squeezed it. Just as he was gonna take his dick out of his sweatpants, his phone started ringing with a vibrating sound. He jumped. Who could be calling at this hour? With a sigh, he reached over to his nightstand and grabbed his phone. The screen illuminated the room just enough for him to see the caller ID. It was his boss. Jake's heart sank. He had a bad feeling about this call.
"Hello?" He answered, trying to sound as normal as possible.
"Jake, it's me," His boss's voice came through the line, sounding business-like as ever, “Would it be alright if you come into work tomorrow?"
Jake mentally groaned. He had been looking forward to his day off, to catch up on sleep and maybe even relax a little. But he knew he couldn't say no to him, besides, maybe he could get more pay, "Sure, I can do that," He replied, trying to sound more professional than he felt. He hated how good he did.
"Good," His boss said, a hint of relief in his voice, "I'll pay you extra for the trouble. See you in the morning." And with that, the line went dead.
Jake stared at his phone for a moment, feeling frustrated and dry. He tossed the phone back onto the nightstand and let out a long sigh. His day off had just been snatched away, and the prospect of another grueling day at work now loomed in his mind. He was getting extra pay, so it wasn’t that bad. He looked over at his laptop and noticed the video was over. He scoffed and slammed it shut. He turned over in bed, pulling the covers up to his chin, and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come quickly and give him a brief respite from being interrupted from his sexual time.
Jake's alarm blared at 6 AM, jarring him from a restless sleep. He groggily reached over to silence it, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He remembered the late-night call from his boss, and the reality of another workday settled over him like his heavy blanket. He dragged himself out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He turned the nob as hot water poured out. Taking off his clothes- he entered and groaned feeling his muscle ache. After he finished, he dressed in a comfy outfit. He glanced at the clock and saw the time. With a sigh, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.
When Jake arrived at work, he walked through the front counter, nodding at a few of his coworkers as he passed. He wasn’t used to not having Jay and Sunghoon by his side. That’s when he is usually somewhat quiet, but still talks enough for people to know who he is.
"Morning, Jake," One of them called out. He responded with a polite nod and a "Good morning" before continuing on his way.
As he approached his workstation, he saw Seulri, a coworker who had always been talkative towards him, "Hi, Jake!" She said brightly, her eyes lighting up as she saw him.
"Hey, Seulri," Jake replied, forcing a smile. He liked Seulri, she was a girl that he felt like he could talk to anything about. But he knew she had a crush on him, and he just didn't feel the same way.
"I was wondering what you were doing today after work?" She asked, her tone hopeful.
Jake hesitated, searching for an excuse. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, but he also didn't want to lead her on, “Uh, I've got a lot on my plate today," He said, trying to sound convincing, "I gotta close the shop for the night." It wasn’t whole lie. He did have to close the cafe around night.
Seulri's face fell slightly, but she quickly masked her disappointment with a smile. "Oh, okay. Well, if you need any help, just let me know."
"Thanks, Seulri. I appreciate it," Jake said, feeling a pang of guilt. He watched as she walked away, her shoulders slumped just a bit.
With a heavy guilt, Jake turned to work on a order. He knew he could’ve had a chance to finally get into a relationship, but he wanted someone to know him for him. Not just some person that wants to satisfy him like Seulri. Jay and Sunghoon kept telling him to just fuck it and have sex with her for the hell of it, but clearly they don’t understand what Jake’s wants. What he needs. Jake mentally cursed at himself and focused back on working. He wasn’t gonna think about, at least not for today.
It was around midnight when Jake was wiping down the tables and stacking the chairs. He liked these types of nights where he could just feel the need to relax with nothing on his mind. He was the only one left for the night, his coworkers having left hours ago. With a sigh, he sat down on an open chair behind the front counter. Deciding to take a break, he opened his phone and checked through his messages. He took sight of the group chat he had with Jay and Sunghoon called ‘The 02zzzz’ and opened it.
Sunghoon: [Link]
Sunghoon: You guys gotta check this out.
Jay: Wow, that’s hot.
Sunghoon: Ikr
Jake eyebrows furrowed before clicking the link. The link took him to safari and there popped up a video. Jake could already tell it was a porn video just from the looks of it. He clicked play and almost immediately it showed a girl sucking a guys dick hungrily. Jay was definitely not wrong, it was fucking hot. How the hell does Sunghoon find these videos? Jake liked the message and shut his phone off. Just then the bell let out a ‘ding’ upon someone coming in. Jake mentally groaned and got up from the sturdy chair, pushing it to the side. He rolled his sleeves as he stared up and that’s when he felt the air get knocked out his lungs. There standing in front of him was a beautiful girl that looked about in her 20’s. Jake felt his mouth going dry from staring. She was beautiful.. and hot. She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and gave Jake a sweet smile. Yeah, he was done for.
“Hi! I hope your not closing soon,” She spoke, her voice sound as pretty as her face, “I just wanted a black coffee if that’s fine.”
Jake blinked once, twice before nodding slow. He shook his head. Get your ass together! He already felt like he was embarrassing himself enough by just staring at her. Wait, was his eyes averting to her tits?
“Oh! Yeah sure no problem, that’ll be $3.75.” He replied. The girl sighed in relief and pulled out her wallet, Jake wondered if she had been going all around town looking for an open coffee shop. Then again, he wasn’t particularly open either.
She extended her hand out with money which Jake took, he felt himself shiver when he felt her soft hands touch his. They were soft and smooth, almost as if she putted lotion before coming in here. Jake opened the cashier register and gave back a few change, “It’ll be done shortly.” He smiled. She nodded and went to take a seat not far from him.
He started measuring out the perfect amount of water, tamping it down with just the right amount of pressure, and locking the portafilter into the machine. As the hot water began to flow through the grounds, he glanced up back at the girl. She was rummaging through her bag, pulling out a laptop, a stack of papers, and a planner. Was she staying for a long time? Jake averted his eyes to the time. It wasn’t that late, but he is gonna be closing soon. He turned back towards her and as he watched her work, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes, a sign of sleepless nights and long hours. It reminded him of Sunghoons. Her outfit was sharp and professional, a tailored blazer over a crisp blouse, paired with sleek trousers. As he steamed the milk, he felt his phone vibrate from his back pocket. Must be Jay and Sunghoon. He grabbed his phone and checked curiously.
Jay: Fuck guys, I just had the best sex ever
Sunghoon: Tf? We don’t wanna know that
Sunghoon: … Was it good?
Jay: The fucking best, she was definitely experienced
Sunghoon: Damn, now I wanna fuck my girl
Jay: No one stopping you
Sunghoon: Yeah, she is. Still mad at me.
Jay: Must suck
Sunghoon: Everyday
Jake putted his phone away when he the machine stopped indicating it was done. He took the coffee out and poured it into a cup. He put a plastic top over it before setting it down on the counter. The girl noticed and got up to grab it. Maybe this could be the chance to talk to someone, “Rough day?" Jake asked.
The girl stared up at him surprised before chuckling softly. Jesus, even her laugh was pretty, “You could say that.”
Jake hesitated for a moment before asking, "Are you perhaps a businesswoman?"
She nodded, taking a sip of the coffee. She let out a relaxed hum. Jake felt himself smiling before she stared at him, “Yes, I am. How did you guess?"
Jake shrugged, trying to play it cool. He wondered if he’s doing a good job at it, "Just a hunch. You look like someone who works hard and could use a good cup of coffee."
She laughed softly, it sounded like music to his ears, “You have no idea. This is exactly what I needed. Thank you."
As she went back to her seat with her unfinished work, Jake couldn’t help but feel his heart swell. They barely spoke and yet Jake already felt a connection. Is this what love at first sight feels like? Cause if it is then sign him the fuck up. He wants to feel that all the time. He watched her eyebrows furrow while looking at a few papers before flipping to the next ones. Maybe if he actually had some balls he could distract her and make her feel better about whatever she was stressing about. But what if she doesn’t want to be distracted?
Jake mentally groaned at himself, he really is bad at this. He mind as well just tell her he’s closing since it’s already been a few minutes. As he was lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice a little someone coming up to the counter, “Excuse me,” Her voice said. Jake whipped his head up and mustered up a nice smile. Shit, did she catch him thinking? She took out her wallet and pulled out around $20. Jake frowned and stared up at her.
“For letting me stay here even though you’re closing.” She spoke, “I noticed when I walked in you guys were supposed to close about five minutes ago.”
Jake nodded and stared back down at the money. Damn it was a lot. And with the extra pay coming to his check? He could go out drinking with the guys, but then again she didn’t need to give him money, “It’s no worries. Keep it.” He smiled.
She frowned, “Well now you’re making me feel bad. You’re working overtime because of me.”
“I was working overtime either way. I’m a slow cleaner.” Jake responded. He wasn’t really lying. She slowly nodded and put her money back in her wallet. Louis Vuitton wallet. Oh, she’s rich rich.
“Well, is there anything I can pay you back aside from money then?” She spoke. Her voice laced with concern. Jake gulped. This was his chance to hit it with a ‘a date would be nice’, but clearly she doesn’t look interested in him, right? Jake felt his heart pacing with each thought. Fuck it.
“M-Maybe a date.” He blurted out. Fucking. Stupid. Voice. Did he really just stutter? The girl blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by the sudden sentence. Yeah, Jake was definitely gonna dig himself in a hole. He was gonna take back what he said until a little giggle was heard from the girl.
“I didn’t expect that, but sure. Why not?” She chimed. Jake felt himself freeze in place. She said yes. She said yes? She said yes! Jake felt like punching the air in victory but kept his composure.
“Really? Wow- I mean- That’s cool. Cool.” He replied. She laughed making Jake feel even more embarrassed. Has he always been this awkward? He wouldn’t be surprised if she changed her mind.
“ Well if we’re going on a date, you have to give me your number first." She said. Her smile never dropping. Jake's eyes widened in surprise. Right. How could he forget? He fumbled with his phone, his hands shaking slightly. He awkwardly handed it to you, unable to find his voice. You took it, entered your number, and handed it back.
"Text me," She said softly, "and we'll set something up."
"Okay," he managed to say, his voice filled with a mix of relief and excitement.
She went back to the table and gathered her stuff and walked out of the café. As she glanced back, Jake couldn’t help but feel his heart pang out of his chest. He can’t believe he picked up a beautiful girl all because he had the balls to do it. She gave him a wink, and that’s when she disappeared as she walked out of his view. Jake probably looked like an idiot, but he probably looked more of an idiot when he immediately took out his phone and checked her information.
L/n Y/n. That’s your name. Jake felt himself smiling at his phone like a weirdo. He has to tell the guys this. He typed the group chat name and clicked it.
Jake: You guys won’t believe what just fucking happened.
Sunghoon: You finally made matcha?
Jake: Even better, I asked a girl out and she’s fucking hot.
Jay: No way dude. I told you you can do it!
Jake: Jesus christ I’m scared. What if she thinks I’m weird for being a virgin at this age?
…
Sunghoon: Shit
Jay: Fuck
Jay: I completely forgot you’re a virgin.
…
Jake: Yeah I’m fucked.
To say the least, it wasn’t really Jake’s fault for not texting you at all for the past two days. What if you were waiting for him to text? You most likely were, but Jake felt like a complete idiot for even thinking you weren’t. Jay and Sunghoon tried to help out with texting you, as in saying ‘hey how about we just go on that date and see where it goes? No sex!’ but clearly that wasn’t gonna do any better. That’s also what you most likely wanted too. And Jay and Sunghoon know Jake would happily comply without saying he’s a virgin. To what Jay said, virgins are the last thing girls want to have sex with. They like experienced men. Men that would actually blow their back out. And yet, Jake wasn’t like that at all. He was a guy who never jerked off before and most likely never will.
“Dude you’re fucking fried if you don’t say anything soon.” Sunghoon said. It was already the afternoon when Sunghoon decided to break the silence with Jake’s situationship. Jake groaned and put his face in his hands.
“I don’t blame her if she’s probably getting pussy pounded by another dude by now.” Jay added. Sunghoon elbowed him. Jake glared at him even though he wasn’t really wrong.
“I don’t know. What if I just cancel it?” Jake muttered, running a hand through his hair. "What if I mess up- well I already did. What if she doesn't like me?"
Jay shook his head firmly, “No way, Jake. This is your chance to show her who you really are. You can't back out now. Who cares if you’re a virgin? I know I said they like experienced men- which is not a lie, but hey, maybe she likes inexperienced guys?”
Sunghoon nodded in agreement, "Jay's right. But if you really don't want to go, you don't have to force yourself. Just be honest with her."
Jake sighed, clearly torn. They both weren’t wrong. Maybe he’s just overthinking it. Maybe you did like inexperienced guys, "I just don't know what to do."
Jay patted Jake’s shoulder firmly, “Dude, just try.” He said. And when Sunghoon gave him a firm look, Jake knew himself what he was gonna do.
It was a lot harder than expected. He was debating whether you’re a caller or a texter. Would it be weird to randomly call you instead? Fuck, but to hear your voice would be amazing. So that’s exactly what Jake did. He typed in your name and clicked on it. His finger hovered over the ‘call’ button. He took a deep breath before clicking it. The line was silent for a few seconds before you answered.
“Hello?” You questioned. Jake suddenly felt the words he was gonna say disappear. You said it again as Jake shook his head.
“H-Hi! This is Y/n?” He stirred. He mentally slapped himself for asking an obvious question. A light giggle came from the other side.
“This is. Is this the barista I gave my number too?” You joked. If it weren’t for your pretty voice Jake would be assuming you were making fun of him.
“Yeah, it’s Jake.” He mumbled. You hummed against the line making him shiver.
“Didn’t expect you to call. I’m glad you did though.” You let out a breathy laugh. Jake nodded his head as if you could see him, “Well, did you wanna talk about the date?”
“Yeah, I did. I was wondering if you wanna go tomorrow? I’ll pick you up.” He said. He could practically feel his heart beating out of his chest when you were silent.
“Okay. Tomorrow it is!” You agreed. He let out a sigh of relief. It was perfect.
“Okay, see you then!” He replied. You gave a small ‘bye’ before hanging up. Jake tossed his phone on the bed and smiled. He was not gonna fuck this up.
Maybe he was. It wasn’t even a minute when Jay busted through his apartment door at nine in the morning with a tired Sunghoon by his side. Apparently when Jake goes on dates it’s a routine to help him with his clothes. He watched as Jay scanned through his clothing in his messy closet while Sunghoon was sleeping on his bed. Jake doesn’t remember telling them they can just do this.
“We definitely need to go shopping after your date.” Jay mumbled, but Jake heard the whole thing.
“Let’s not talk about your style old grandpa.” Jake scoffed. He rolled his eyes when Jay ignored him by sliding the hangers louder. He stared over at Sunghoon sound asleep, “Why did you even bring Sunghoon along?”
Jay stopped sliding the hangers and turned around, letting out a deep sigh, “He wanted to come. Him and his girlfriend are still fighting.”
Jake eyebrows furrowed. Seriously, it was getting out of hand. Is he seriously get no night rest with her? Jake tucked the blanket up to Sunghoon chest who let out a little snore. Jay was staring pitifully. It was quiet for a few seconds, not one of them talking until Jake’s phone started ringing.
“Bro, why is your phone ringing? Aren’t you going to answer?” Jay asked, raising an eyebrow. Jake glanced at the screen, and his heart did a flip when he saw your name. He scrambled to sit up, muttering, “Oh my god,” before frantically swiping to answer the call. Jay watched the whole chaos unfold.
“Hello?!” Jake practically screamed into the phone, his voice cracking slightly. Jay gave him a look that was equal parts amused and disappointed, mouthing, ‘chill dude’. Jake gulped harshly waiting for you to say something.
“Uh… hey,” You said on the other end, sounding slightly startled by his volume, “Just wondering… when are you gonna pick me up?”
Jake slapped a hand over his forehead, realizing he hadn’t even started getting ready yet. This was Jays fault, “Oh! Uh, soon! I just—I need to, um, get dressed real quick.”
There was a pause, and then your soft laugh, “Okay. Just let me know when you’re on your way, and I’ll text you the address.”
“Cool, cool,” Jake stammered, nodding furiously even though you couldn’t see him, “I’ll—I’ll let you know. Yeah.”
As soon as he hung up, Jay let out a sigh and leaned back on the closet door, shaking his head, “Man, that was painful to watch.”
Jake shot him a glare, “What? I answered, didn’t I?”
“Barely. You sounded like you just found out you won the lottery or something,” Jay teased, “Get it together, Romeo.”
Jake groaned, running a hand through his hair. He needs to practice to not look like a complete weirdo towards you. It’s more embarrassing knowing that one of his friends watched the whole thing, “Shut up. I need to figure out what I’m wearing.”
Jay watched as Jake sprinted towards his closet, muttering to himself about shirts and jackets, “This is why you’re single, dude,” Jay spoke. He heard Jake letting out a little protest but saying nothing else.
His phone let out a ‘ping!’ and as he snatched it off the bed he saw you send your address. You don’t live too far which is a good thing. Jake liked the message before he felt a heavy feeling on his back. He rolled over to feel a clothes on his back.
“Wear that. It’s better than nothing.” Jay spoke. Jake grabbed the clothing and scanned them. A slim fit blue cotton sweater with black pants. Surprisingly it didn’t look like bad outfit. Jake didn’t say anything else when he headed to the bathroom to change into it.
Jake emerged from the bathroom, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt as he stepped into his room, “Alright,” He announced, standing in front of Jay with an expectant look, “What do you think?”
Jay, who had been scrolling through his phone, glanced up—and then did a double take. He raised his eyebrows. It was definitely a nice outfit. Made by Jay obviously.
“Huh,” Jay said, a smirk creeping onto his face, “I’m surprised.”
Jake blinked, “Surprised?”
“Yeah,” Jay replied, sitting back on the bed, “Surprised it actually looks good. But then again, not surprised. I’m a genius when it comes to this stuff.”
Jake rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips, “Right. Thanks for your expert opinion,” He muttered, heading toward his closet to grab a pair of matching shoes.
Jay watched as Jake slipped them on, tying the laces with a focused expression, “You nervous or something?”
“No,” Jake lied quickly, straightening up and brushing his hands over his pants, “I think I’m ready.”
“Hold up,” Jay said, getting up and rummaging through a small drawer by the TV. A second later, he tossed something at Jake.
Jake caught it, frowning as he realized it was a pair of glasses, “What’s this for?”
Jay shrugged, “They’ll pull the whole look together. Trust me.”
Jake hesitated, then slid the glasses on. He turned toward the mirror near the door, adjusting them as he took in his reflection, “… Okay, not bad,” he admitted.
“Not bad?” Jay scoffed, “You look like you just stepped out of a catalog. You’re welcome, by the way.”
Jake laughed under his breath, he couldn’t be more grateful for Jay at these times. He grabbed his keys from the counter, “Alright, I’m heading out. Are you guys gonna be staying by the time I get back?”
Jay gave him a mock salute, leaning back on the bed again, “Good luck, lover boy. And no, most likely not, I’ll wake Sunghoon up soon and maybe get him breakfast.”
Jake shot him a grin. He shook his head, stepping out the door and heading toward his car, his heart pounding a little harder than he’d like to admit. Once he started the car he went right to your house. Jake drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, glancing at the GPS on his phone as he followed the directions to your house. The drive had been quiet, save for the faint hum of his playlist in the background, but as he turned into your neighborhood, he couldn’t help but sit up straighter.
The houses here were massive.
Each one seemed more impressive than the last—pristine lawns, tall gates, sleek cars in driveways. Jake felt his brows furrow as he passed by what looked like a mansion with marble columns. If you were this rich, why would agree to go on a date with someone like him? You could practically be dating millionaires! It kind of reminded him of Jays house. Jays house 0.2?
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, double-checking the address you’d sent him. When he finally reached your house, he froze, blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. Your house was huge, the kind of place he’d only seen in movies. The front yard alone was immaculate, with perfectly trimmed hedges and a fountain in the center of the driveway.
He pulled his car up to the curb, feeling suddenly out of place in his old but reliable sedan. He sat there for a moment, staring up at the house in awe before shaking his head. Jake grabbed his phone and called you, his palms a little sweaty for reasons he couldn’t explain.
“Hey,” he said when you picked up, “Uh, I’m here.”
“Okay, I’ll be out in a second,” You replied, your voice soft and calm.
Jake hung up, taking a deep breath as he adjusted his rearview mirror. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but when you stepped out the front door, it felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. You looked stunning. The way you carried yourself, the way the evening light hit your features—it was almost unfair. Jake watched as you walked toward his car, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as his heart thudded in his chest.
You opened the passenger door, slipping inside with a shy smile, “Hi,” You said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Jake didn’t respond right away. He was too busy staring, his brain struggling to come up with something—anything—to say. Up close, you were even prettier than he remembered, and it was doing things to his ability to form coherent thoughts.
“Hi,” He finally managed, his voice coming out a little rougher than he intended. You glanced at him, your smile widening slightly, and Jake felt like he was going to lose it. Fuck, you looked so hot.
He cleared his throat, quickly looking away as he started the car, “Uh, you—you look really nice,” He said, mentally kicking himself for how lame that sounded.
“Thank you,” You replied, your cheeks flushing as you glanced out the window. Jake stole another quick glance at you as he pulled away from the curb, wondering how he was supposed to focus on driving when you were sitting right there, looking like that.
The drive was silent but comfortable. He gave you a few looks as you stared out the window quietly. He assumed he should talk more when he gets to the restaurant since you looked so peaceful. He was hoping to God it wasn’t too expensive since he’s quit low on money as embarrassing as it sounds since it was Jays recommendations.
Jake pulled his car into the parking lot of a sleek, upscale restaurant, the golden glow of its soft lighting spilling through its large windows. He parked near the entrance, cutting the engine before glancing at you. You were staring at the building, your eyes wide with surprise, “This place looks… really nice,” You said, your voice tinged with awe.
Jake scratched the back of his neck, feeling a little nervous, “Yeah, I thought you might like it,” He said casually, though he’d spent way too long talking to Jay about ones that looked impressive but wouldn’t completely destroy his wallet.
You smiled at him, and it was the kind of smile that made him feel like he’d done something right for the first time, “I do. It’s perfect.”
Relieved, Jake got out of the car and quickly moved to your side to open the door for you. You stepped out gracefully, and the two of you walked toward the restaurant together, the soft sound of your shoes clicking against the pavement. Inside, the restaurant was even more elegant than it looked from the outside.
The low hum of conversation and soft instrumental music created an intimate atmosphere, and the warm lighting cast a golden glow over the polished wooden tables. Jake led you to the hostess, and soon enough, you were seated at a cozy table by the window. The two of you looked through the menus briefly before the waiter came to take your order, and the conversation flowed easily with the waiter as you waited for your food to arrive.
When the waiter finally brought your meals, the dishes were plated so beautifully it almost seemed like a shame to eat them, “This looks amazing,” You said, your eyes lighting up as you picked up your fork.
Jake smiled, watching your expression, “Yeah, definitely worth the drive.”
You took a bite, your face softening in delight. Jake chuckled at your cute expression, “Wow. Okay, this is really good.”
Jake took a bite of his own food and nodded in agreement, “They weren’t kidding about this place. I think I’m gonna start coming here every week.”
You laughed softly, “You’re really into food, huh?”
“Are you kidding? Food is, like, my love language,” Jake said, leaning back slightly, “Good food can fix almost anything.”
“Fair point,” you said, twirling your fork around your plate, “But if food’s your love language, what’s your hate language?”
Jake tilted his head thoughtfully like a puppy, “Cold coffee,” He said without missing a beat.
You burst out laughing, and Jake grinned, watching you, “Seriously, though. When someone orders an iced latte and lets it sit until the ice melts, I feel like I’ve failed them as a barista.”
“Iced lattes are your nemesis?” You teased, still giggling.
“Don’t underestimate how serious this is,” Jake replied, pretending to be solemn.
The two of you laughed together, and the conversation flowed easily as you continued eating. You asked him about his work, and he told you a funny story about a customer who ordered a “cappuccino but with no foam” and then got mad when it wasn’t a latte. By the time the plates were cleared, Jake felt like the two of you had been in your own little bubble, laughing and talking like old friends.
When you left the restaurant, the air outside was cool and refreshing. Jake walked beside you toward his car, his hands in his pockets. Once you were back inside, he hesitated for a moment before glancing over at you.
“So,” He started, turning the key in the ignition but not driving just yet, “Since I’ve, uh… seen … seen your house now…” You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
“I’ve been wondering,” he said, glancing at you quickly before looking back at the steering wheel, “What do you do for a living?”
You smiled knowingly, leaning back in your seat,“You were right,” You said, your tone playful, “I’m a businesswoman. I work in an office building with my friend. We run a consulting firm together.”
Jake’s eyebrows shot up, “Seriously? That’s… wow. No wonder you’re living like that.”
You chuckled softly, “Yeah, I get paid pretty well. It’s a good gig.”
Jake nodded, clearly impressed. Damn, you had it good, “That’s really cool. Like, actually really cool.”
You tilted your head, studying him for a moment before smiling again, “I think it’s cool that you’re a barista,” You said sincerely.
Jake blinked, caught off guard, “Me? Nah, it’s not that impressive,” He mumbled, suddenly feeling shy as he looked down at the steering wheel again.
“I’m serious,” You insisted, “It’s such a unique job, and it suits you. I bet you’re really good at it.”
Jake’s ears burned, and he couldn’t fight the sheepish smile spreading across his face, “Thanks,” He muttered, feeling like he was seventeen all over again.
You laughed softly, and Jake finally pulled out of the parking lot, his heart lighter than it had been in a while. As he drove back to your house he couldn’t help but laugh every time you pulled off a joke. You would giggle every time he told you a funny story about his friends. It was all too perfect to him. He didn’t want the night to end.
But sadly he soon got to your house and parks on the curb. It was silent for few minutes when you offered him a smile, “It was nice having this date with you. I mean, I didn’t know you were this fun.” You joked.
Jake chuckled, “You’d be surprised.” He replied earning another pretty laugh of yours. It was a few seconds of silence when you made eye contact with him. Jake did the same, though he noticed you were not looking at his eyes anymore, but his lips. He felt his heart pounding against his chest.
“I think you should-“ You cut him off by smashing your lips against his. It wasn’t dramatic or planned, just a soft, tentative kiss that felt like the most natural thing in the world. But Jake didn’t move. His lips didn’t press back into yours, and his entire body tensed as if someone had hit pause on him.
You pulled back, confused, your brow furrowing as you searched his face. He was staring at you, wide-eyed, his cheeks flushed a deep red, “Jake,” You said softly, your voice careful, “are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” He blurted, a little too quickly. His eyes darted everywhere except to yours, “I’m—I’m fine. You should, uh—you should go.”
The words must’ve hit you like a cold splash of water, “Go?”
Jake nodded, his hands gripping the edge of the couch so tightly his knuckles turned white, “Yeah, I think—uh, I think you should leave.”
You blinked, your heart sinking, “Did I… did I do something wrong?”
“No,” Jake said quickly, shaking his head. The last thing he wanted you to think was that you did something wrong, “It’s not that. It’s just…” He trailed off, chewing on his bottom lip as if the words were physically stuck in his throat.
“Just what?” You pressed gently, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jake hesitated, his face twisting in frustration before he finally blurted, “I can’t kiss.”
You stared at him, taken aback, “What?”
“I’ve never kissed anyone before, okay?” He said, his voice rising slightly before he looked away, embarrassed, “I didn’t know what to do, and I—I froze, and now it’s just weird.”
“Jake,” You started, but he cut you off.
“It’s better if you just go,” He said quickly, his voice quiet now, almost resigned. He still couldn’t look at you, “Seriously.”
He could tell you didn’t want to leave—not like this—but he sat there, closed off and distant, making it clear he wasn’t ready for this conversation.
“Okay,” you said softly, your voice cracking slightly, “I’ll go.”
Jake didn’t move, didn’t even look at you as you made your way to the door. You paused for a moment, your hand on the handle, most likely hoping he might say something, anything, to stop you. But he didn’t. As you stepped out into the cool night air, the weight of what had just happened settled heavily in his chest. He watched as you opened your door and shut it without looking back. He didn’t blame you at all.
Inside, Jake buried his face in his hands, his stomach twisting with guilt. He didn’t want you to leave, but he couldn’t get past the knot of insecurity and shame tightening in his chest. He was fucking stupid. Why was he such an embarrassment. Jay was right. No girl would like a guy who is inexperienced. A few seconds he started the car and drove back to his house.
Once he got there it was dark and cold. He slammed his bedroom shut and lay on his bed in his date clothes. He didn’t even think about messaging his friends about what happened. He was too embarrassed. Neither did he messaged you an apology. You probably already blocked him. And he would have no other choice but to accept it.
Jake stood behind the counter at the cafe, aimlessly wiping a perfectly clean section of the countertop for what felt like the hundredth time. The usual clatter of mugs, the hum of conversation, and the hiss of the espresso machine buzzed around him, but he barely registered any of it. His mind was elsewhere—stuck on the events of the night before.
“Jake!”
He flinched, his hand freezing mid-wipe as Jay’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Jay was leaning against the espresso machine, a latte cup in hand, watching him with a raised brow. Shit, did Jay noticed he was wiping the same place over and over? Before he could say anything, Jay cut him to it, clearly upset.
“What’s up with you?” Jay asked, tilting his head. His voice was a bit gentler than Jake was expecting, “You’ve been zoning out all morning. You didn’t even react when I stole that tip you left on the counter.”
Jake blinked, confused, “Wait, what tip?”
Jay snorted, “Exactly. You’re out of it, man. So… how’d the date go?”
Jake glanced at him and then quickly looked away, focusing on folding a towel, “Fine,” He said flatly. Jake felt a lump forming in his throat just remembering the vents from last night.
Jay set his cup down with a loud clink, “Fine? That’s it? You’re acting like someone ran over your dog, and all I get is ‘fine’? Spill it, Jake. What happened?”
“Nothing,” Jake muttered, keeping his eyes on the towel.
From the other end of the counter, Sunghoon appeared, balancing a tray of mugs. He raised an eyebrow as he set the tray down, “What’s going on?”
“Jake’s being weird,” Jay said, gesturing toward him, “He says the date was ‘fine,’ but he’s been moping around all morning like it wasn’t fine.”
Sunghoon looked at Jake, who was now scrubbing the same spot on the counter he’d been wiping earlier, “Jake,” Sunghoon said carefully, “Did she do something that made you uncomfortable?”
Jake froze for a moment before shaking his head. He knew Sunghoon would have his back if anything, “No. It wasn’t her. It was… me.”
Jay frowned, “You? What do you mean?”
Jake hesitated, gripping the towel tightly, “She kissed me,” He said quietly, his face heating up.
Jay’s eyes widened and let out a him, clearly not getting what the fuck was wrong, “Okay, that sounds like a good thing. Why are you acting like it wasn’t?”
Jake sighed, feeling the weight of their stares, “Because I panicked. I didn’t kiss her back. And then I told her I couldn’t kiss, and I—” He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “I told her she should leave.”
Sunghoon set the tray down slowly, his expression unreadable, “You told her to leave?”
Jake nodded miserably. Jay stared at him for a moment before letting out a low whistle, “Wow. That’s bad. That’s kind of embarrassing.”
Sunghoon immediately elbowed him in the side, “Jay!”
“What? I’m just being honest!” Jay said defensively. Jake didn’t respond, his shoulders slumping as he folded the towel into a perfect square.
“Okay, but seriously,” Sunghoon said, his tone softer now, “Why’d you panic? You like her, right?”
Jake let out a humorless laugh? “Of course I like her. That’s the problem. I’ve never kissed anyone before. I didn’t know what to do, and I freaked out. Now she probably thinks I don’t like her or that I’m some kind of idiot.”
Jay leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms, “Dude, you’re overthinking this. Freaking out over your first kiss? That’s normal. It doesn’t make you an idiot.”
Jake shook his head, “It doesn’t matter. I made it weird. She left, and now I don’t even know if I should text her or what I’d even say.”
Sunghoon leaned against the counter beside him, “Be honest,” He said simply, “Tell her why you reacted the way you did. She kissed you for a reason—she likes you. If you explain, I’m sure she’ll understand.”
Jake frowned, still uncertain, “You really think she’d want to hear from me after that?”
Jay nudged him lightly, “Absolutely. Just don’t overthink it, man. If you wait too long, you’re gonna drive yourself crazy.”
Jay was right. He was already crazy enough for letting you go like that. He nodded and gave them a small smile. He’ll make it happen today. He’ll apologize to you today. So, as soon as his shift ended, Jake didn’t bother going home to change or unwind. He got in his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he drove toward your house. His mind raced with what he would say.
“I’m sorry.” Too simple.
“I panicked because I didn’t want to mess up.” Too revealing.
“I don’t know how to kiss because I’ve never been with anyone.” He winced at that thought. He didn’t want to come off as pathetic.
The drive was short, but it felt like an eternity. When he finally pulled into your neighborhood, the looming houses made him feel like he was stepping into another world. They were big—bigger than anything he’d ever known—and it reminded him of just how different your lives were. He pulled up to your driveway, the size of your house making his stomach twist again. Shutting off the engine, Jake took a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. You’ve got this. Just explain yourself and hope for the best, he thought.
He climbed out of the car, made his way to your front door, and knocked. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited. Seconds felt like hours, and just as he was starting to wonder if you weren’t home, the door opened.
But it wasn’t you.
Jake blinked in surprise, his brain struggling to process who stood before him. It was Sunghoon’s girlfriend. Wait, what the fuck?
“What… what are you doing here?” Jake stammered.
She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms, “I should be asking you the same thing.”
Jake opened his mouth, closed it, then managed to say, “I’m here to see Y/n? She lives here right?”
The words had barely left his lips when you appeared behind her, your eyes widening at the sight of him, “Jake?” You questioned.
“Hey,” He said awkwardly, shifting on his feet.
Sunghoon’s girlfriend glanced between the two of you, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips, “Well, this just got interesting,” She said, stepping aside to let you take over.
You hesitated for a moment before nodding and opening the door wider, “Come in.”
Jake stepped inside, his hands shoved into his pockets. The awkwardness in the air was thick, but before he could say anything, he turned back to Sunghoon’s girlfriend, “Wait—what are you doing here?”
She leaned casually against the wall, looking amused, “I could ask you the same thing again, but fine. I’m here because I’m her friend.”
Jake blinked, looking between her and you, “Since when have you two been friends?”
“Since we started working together,” She said with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Jake stared at her, his mouth slightly open in surprise. He had no idea you worked together. Neither did he knew Sunghoon was interested in bitches like her. Before he could ask more, she clapped her hands together.
“Well, I was just leaving,” She said, grabbing her bag from the couch. She gave you a quick hug, then shot Jake a teasing look as she passed him, “Good luck.”
Jake stood there for a moment, stunned. He wanted to ask a hundred questions about her being here, but he decided to focus on the real reason he’d come. He turned to you, his nerves suddenly crashing down on him.
“So,” You said softly, crossing your arms as you leaned against the arm of the couch, “Why are you here?”
Jake scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze, “I, uh, wanted to talk about yesterday.”
You straightened, your expression cautious, “Okay.”
Jake took a deep breath, forcing himself to look at you, “I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry. For how I acted.”
Your brows furrowed, but you stayed quiet, letting him continue, “I panicked,” He admitted, his voice quieter now, “I’ve never… I’ve never kissed anyone before. I didn’t know what to do, and I felt like an idiot. So instead of saying something, I just pushed you away.”
Your lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across your face, “Jake…”
He shook his head quickly, cutting you off, “I know it was dumb. I shouldn’t have done that. And I understand if you’re upset or if you don’t want to see me again, but I just couldn’t leave things the way they were. I like you. A lot. And I didn’t want you to think I don’t because of how I acted.”
The room was silent for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Then, you stepped closer, your expression softening, “Jake,” You said gently, “I’m not upset. I was just… confused. I didn’t understand why you reacted the way you did.”
He looked at you, relief washing over him like a wave, “You’re not mad?”
You shook your head, “No. I wish you’d told me sooner, but I get it now. And for the record,” You added with a small smile, “I like you too.”
Jake’s face flushed, his heart skipping a beat, “You do?”
You laughed softly, “Yes, Jake. I do.”
He let out a shaky breath, a smile tugging at his lips, “Okay. Good. Because I really want to try again. If you’re okay with that.”
“I’d like that,” You said, your smile growing. Jake felt like a little kid having a crush for the first time. You extended your hand out, waiting for him to grab it. He did and you escorted him to your living room.
It wasn’t a second when you suddenly wrapped your arms around his neck and stared at him seductively. Fuck, he’s really gonna do this. You closed your eyes and leaned in, Jake did the same. That’s when he felt your lips finally connecting. It was slow and gentle, as if he was gonna runaway again, but he wasn’t. He moved his lips slowly against yours, matching the pace. You let out a noise when he gripped your neck tightly.
Who knew your lips felt fucking amazing against his. His other hand rubbed against your open waist from your crop top. He suddenly let out a surprised whine when you gripped his dick. You froze and broke the kiss, your saliva connecting together, “D-Did you just whine?” You asked breathlessly.
Jake shoved his face in your neck, “Please, don’t make fun of me.” He whimpered. Your eyes went wide at the sudden tone of his voice. It was quiet and submissive. You then let out a little chuckle.
“Don’t worry. It was hot.” You admitted. Jake sighed when he felt you tug at his hair. He stared at you and gave you another peck on the lips. You slowly pushed him towards your couch as he fell back on it. You got on top of him and kissed him again, feeling his dick harden underneath.
He let out whines and moans feeling you grind so good against him. He never felt this type of pleasure before. You let out quiet moans as you bucked your hips. You lowered your head to his neck and softly sucked on it. Jake felt too much at the same time, he felt like he was gonna cum.
“Agh!- wait a minute!” He whined. You stopped sucking and looked up at him confused. He let out a shaky sigh, “I don’t wanna cum soon.”
You blinked. A smile was forming on your lips, “Why? Wanna cum inside me instead?” You purred. Jake eyes widened. Your mouth is so fucking nasty. He loves it a little too much.
“Y-Yes! Wanna cum inside.” He sighed. You lifted yourself up a bit and unbuckled his pants. He felt himself feeling more urgent the way you slowly undid his pants. He lifted his hips up to help you have access to his boxers. You lowered towards his cloth dick and rubbed it.
Jake threw his head back and let out a strangle moan. You gripped it, squeezed it, and stroke it. It all made Jake feel so dizzy and yet so good. You finally lowered his boxers revealing his dick, “Holy shit.” You mumbled. He was huge. Jake shyly covered himself with his arm making you giggle.
You gripped his dick and softly stroke it before spitting on it. Jake gasped when he felt your saliva trickling down his shaft and let out a cry when you suddenly engulfed his dick in your mouth. You gagged a bit feeling him hit the back of your throat. Jake eyes rolled back feeling his tip hit the back of your throat. You moaned around it and bobbed your head slowly trying to get used to the feeling. Jake gripped your hair and held you in place.
“Hah- M’gonna cum!” He cried out. Ghat didn’t stop you though. You took his hand off your head and went faster. Jake bucked his hips making you gag again, but the pain felt good. His orgasm came faster than he was expecting. Cumming deep in your mouth. What shocked him was when you swallowed everything easily. You took his dick out of your mouth and licked your lips.
Fuck, you were gonna be the death of him, “You taste good.” You said. As if it was the most normal thing to say after an intense blowjob. Jake breathed unevenly and gave you a sloppy smile. Round two of a blowjob didn’t sound bad.
You took off your shirt and unclipping your bra revealing your perky tits. Jake felt himself drooling staring at them. You giggled and grabbed his hands, putting them right on your tits. Jake cursed and gripped them softly. You bit your lip to suppress a moan. You began grinding again and let out a whimper feeling his tip hit your clit perfectly. One of Jake’s hand gripped your tit while the other helped you move your hips. You felt like you were gonna cum just from this.
You suddenly stop causing Jake to look up at you dazed, “Don’t wanna cum like this.” You stated. You got off of him and took off your underwear. With your pussy finally in view, Jake already felt like he was gonna cum the second time. You got back on top of him and grabbed his dick, aligning it at your entrance. You slowly sunk down and breathed out. He felt so big inside you. Is he gonna fit all the way? Your eyes teared up a little making Jake stare worriedly.
“D-Does it hurt? We can stop-“
“No! I’m fine. J-Just getting used to your size.” You panted. When he was fully inside you slowly grind getting used to the size. Jake had his head back feeling your velvet walls squeeze him so tight. You were so wet.
“Fuck, I think I’m gonna cum again.” Jake whispered.
You shook your head, “Try to hold it, please.” And who was Jake to say no? You began slowly going up and down, your moans now getting louder by each second. Jake gripped your hips and helped you. He bit his lip feeling you milk his dick.
The sound of skin slapping and moans bouncing off the walls made Jake realize he was actually fucking somebody. His moans suddenly got louder when you began bouncing faster, your tits jiggling everyone your pussy took his whole dick in. Your pussy was practically throbbing around him.
“Shit! Jake! Gonna cum!” You cried. Jake held your hips and started fucking you from below. You let out scream when you finally came all over his dick. He whimpered and went faster. He thrusted five more times before cumming deep inside you.
You panted against his neck as he slipped his dick out of your leaking pussy causing you to whine. You laid there breathless while Jake twirled a strand of your hair, “Sorry, was I too rough?”
You giggled, “You were perfect.”
He smiled and hugged your waist, “I’m glad you were my first.” He mumbled in your ear. You hummed and closed your eyes. It was silent for a few seconds before Jake asked a question.
“Have you ever got eaten out before?” He asked. You glanced at him and slightly shook your head.
“I haven’t. I’ve seen videos but-“ Before you could say anything else Jake suddenly flipped you over making you lay on your back with him on top of you, “Jake! What are you-“
He didn’t say anything when he lifted your legs over his shoulders. You shook your head frantically, “W-Wait Jake! I’m still sensitive!” You reasoned. But it went in Jake’s ear out the other when he lowered his face to your pussy.
No, he hasn’t ate pussy before, but he watched enough videos to know what he’s doing. He opened your folds with his fingers making you let out a surprised gasp before you felt his hot tongue lick you bud. You arched your back and whimpered at the new feeling. Jake licked and sucked your hole harshly, your pussy producing more slick from the pleasurable sensation. You felt tears gather in your eyes feeling overstimulated but not wanting him to stop.
You felt your orgasm coming and gripped Jake’s head, “Hng!- J-Jake I’m gonna cum!” You moaned. You felt your orgasm coming over you when he punched your bud with his fingers. Jake licked up your juices and hummed. You tasted sweet. He licked you clean and let your thighs fall on the couch, your legs shaking at the rough orgasm you had. Jake smiled and kissed your cheek.
“That wasn’t cool.” You breathed out.
Jake laughed and hugged your side, “I might do that again when you’re not expecting it.” He smiled. You glared at him, but couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face. As Jake held you close when you fell asleep, he couldn’t help but feel like he achieved something special. And it’s all thanks to you.
BONUS
Jay: How’d it go? Did she forgive you?
Jake: Yeah, we had sex ^^
Sunghoon: Ew, don’t type it so cute
Jake: Sorry
Jake: BTW I didn’t know she was friends with your gf Sunghoon.
Sunghoon: She is?
Jake: Yeah, she was at her house when I stopped by
Sunghoon: That explains why she was suddenly excited for her friend
Sunghoon: Ig she knew what you guys were gonna do
Jay: Are you guys still fighting?
Sunghoon: No, she forgave me when I gave her flowers
Jay: Good! So how about that threesome I was talking about-
Sunghoon left the group chat
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Hate sex with Sunday…. (Placed before he becomes harmonious or whatever)
Warnings: Afab reader, overstimulation, degrading, unprotected, creampie, Reader is really vulgar/bratty, Marking
The silent serenity of the room is disturbed by pants, and loud squelches of your growing lust splattering through the air. The only thing muffling your moans is a gloved hand engulfing your lips. Unfortunately for Sunday, you are purposefully trying to be heard by the entirety of Penaconys dreaming visitors. Sometimes, he seems to forget just how much of a handful you are…
You bite his gloved hand, the man pounding into your pussy hissing in pain. Yet, each thrust continues its relentless pace, only slowing to allow him words, an insult (though he calls them ‘critiques’) for you.
“You… I truly… do dislike you.”
“Aww… Haa… Seems like your dick loves me though.” You’re immediately silenced when Sunday burrows your body into the matress, hitting that spot inside you when he thrusts at a particular angle. “Ah…! S-see…? Your dick really does love— Oh…!” Sundays finger works diligently on stimulating your clit, the cloth fabric of his gloves only furthering the sensation. “Maybe….! Maybe not me… But you’re really obsessed with my— Haahh… My— Mm..!” You don’t even have the chance to finish your sentence, Sundays lips finding refuge on yours.
He’s… Never done that before…
You moan into his lips, his thumb still grinding itself into your bud while his other hand plays with your tit, rolling the nub between his fingers.
When you pull away for air, you whisper his name, attempting to ask what it is he’s doing, but you’re stopped again when he dives into your mouth, spit exchanging with each movement. You can feel yourself approaching climax, much earlier than you bet to him you would. Which is horrible, because, that means you’ll essentially be a cocksleeve for him whenever he wishes for the next few months.
He separates his lips from you, smiling at the way a thick trail of saliva connects you two, spit trailing off the side of your mouth. It’s a thrilling site, one that makes him hit that spot in your walls even faster than before. His wings flap to the side of your head, cutting off your vision from anything else but him.
“You… Haah… You truly are a temptress.” All it takes is a finally snap of his hips and your hand flies up to his head, gripping his hair as your walls flutter around his length. Despite your blissful climax, he continues his ministrations slowly even as you cum, further serving your rapture. “It’s why I dislike you so.”
You’re not sure why he hates you so much, but you have no time to think about it, especially when he props himself up. He looks down at your dazed face, a smirk coating his lips. All too familiar.
“Wha… Give me some time to recover you beast— Ahh.. Fuck…!”
“It’s not fair if only you have release. Besides… Haa… You’ve survived… more than one hnngh, haven’t you?” … He plans to wreck the absolute hell out of you. He leans down to your ear, a husky voice escaping him, “You don’t deserve relaxation on the seventh day, so atone for your transgressions.” He props your legs above his shoulder, essentially preparing you to become his own personal cum dump.
“Sunday you little bastard—! Nghh…!” You won’t admit it him, you never will, but that was so hot. Yet again, he might know you think it, especially with the way your eyes roll back in pleasure, the idea of him emptying his seed furthering you thirst.
“I hope you remember that… Haah… promise… I prefer pe… pests at least remain orderly…” his thrusts grow sloppy, words slurring, a sign he’s close. In a last ditch effort of revenge, you laugh at him, tightening harder. You’ll shred his dignity too, even if you have to surrender your own.
He glares at your face, that sneer breaking when he can feel himself coming close, your second climax quickly reproaching. After a few more thrusts, he empties himself, all of himself into your body, not daring to pull out. In turn, your flutter around him once again, squirting at his abdomen, wetting expensive clothes. He allows himself to plug your hole, your fingers brushing through his hair while his face finds refuge in your neck.
“Aww, my favorite sight… the all famed Sunday pathetically weeping at getting his dick wet~ Now, what time do you want me out of here hm?”
“Did an imp like you really believe us to be done?” His hand reaches back to your hips, his grip tightening.
“… What?”
…
You lay on the side of the bed, glaring at the culprit of your current bed ridden state. He doesn’t return the sentiment, a false face of pleasantries returning your feelings.
“I hate you Sunday, whatever your last name is.”
“Hate is strong, I prefer dislike. Take my feelings for you.” He continues to smile even when you swat your hand at him, an attempt to kick him out of the bed.
“Yeah? Well you must’ve really like that huh?! Look at me you bastard!” You lift up the blanket, pointing at your pussy that drips with the multitudes of load he spent inside of you. At some point you lost count, but you know for sure it was more than 7. “I mean, how could someone cum that fucking much?!” He doesn’t answer, tilting his head, beaming. “I’m not even gonna start on all these bites you freak.”
“I see, so you’re saying you’re much to weak to go again?”
You pause. He’s doubting you.
“I could do it again.”
“Are you sure? My, I wouldn’t want to hurt such a frail being—“
“I can fuck you again Sunday, stop being—!” He’s already on you as quick as the words left your throat, your legs wrapping around his hips. He’s lucked out, this part of the dreamscape is emptier than usual at this time.
Unfortunately, you seem to be quite the opposite… You’ve fallen for Sundays tricks once more. Then again, the feeling of his dick rearranging your guts, isn’t as bad as you tell him it is.
#hsr smut#honkai star rail smut#sunday smut#sunday x reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#smut
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