#you’ve got the antidote for me

[leahsffs]

soo turns out i have a thing for closed off self-appointed martyrs who just need to struggle through life bottling everything up then?

[xazse]

okay hear me out…. reverse hybrid au… with tigerhybrid!sukuna bc nobody else can handle him because he’s so aggressive and overbearing .. so reader is their last resort zoo caretaker and they’re is shocked at how it’s like reader has a leash on tigerhybrid!sukuna 😚

I’VE GOT IT?

Synopsis: You’re head of a completely different department so why are you being asked to help with an odd situation?

Warnings: Female!reader + Mean!Sukuna + cringe tropes (sorry) + Hybrid!Sukuna: ears and a tail + heat + cumming inside + doggy + NOTPROOFREAD!!! + obsessed!Sukuna

Pairings: Tigerhybrid!Sukuna x female!Reader

Notes: I’m really working to improve my writing for you guys!! Esp my non-English speakers

“Miss please you know we would never beg like this if it wasn’t urgent.”

“I don’t specialize in that field, how many times must I tell you?”

You were getting sick of these scientists coming to you more often than normal, there’s three right now begging for you to take on a case that you didn’t want to do.

“Sukuna is out of control, he’s already injured five of our best, now they refuse to work with him”

“And I should be the sixth?” You say with a quirk of your brow.

They all stop and stare at one another, you have a good ass point what makes them think that you’ll be the antidote for their beast they decided to keep.

“Like I said, my stance on this won’t change.”

Another voice in the doorway of your office speaks up: “I’ll upgrade your pay and have you transferred up.”

Your ears perk up at this offer, to go even further where you are right now means business and a fuck ton of money. On the flip side it means facing whatever they’re against but you’ve always been a little greedy for money so you oblige.

The scientists made sure to throw you in the thinnest garments: “to let him know you don’t have anything on you.” As they put it.

They also had told you no sudden movements and to talk with him in a calm manner, show him you aren’t afraid and find out what’s been making him so angry lately. Easy peasy except your life is on the line!

You disregard any negative thoughts of death and make your way into the place where they keep their hybrids, it’s like little apartments where they can do as they please in return for information on their biology, as far as you know they love it here. You’ve once met puppy!hybrids Satoru and Suguru they were very sweet men, needy but sweet.

Your first step into the apartment is met with a strong smell, a smell of something primal if that even has a smell. It’s warm.

You start poking around his place, checking his fridge and looking for anything out of the ordinary, nothing seems amiss though. It’s not until you come up to one of the doors and hear slight noises. You press your ear up closer making the noise more clearer: whining it sounds like whining.

Could he perhaps be In pain? You knock three times and announce you’re coming in. The door clicks and you start slowly pulling it open. You see the man in all his glory resting upon his bed, arms wrapped around his pillow and an unreadable expression.

Sukuna is big, he’s a big man compared to all the other hybrids, he’s brimming with pure muscle. Does he workout in here? Your thoughts are interrupted by slight growling: he’s warning you. Step any close r and he will have no choice but to harm you.

You pay him no mind, instead you step fully in and start looking around without a care in the world.

“You’re making trouble- why is that?” You say while looking through his dresser.

“You’re being extremely nosy, leave before I kill you.” He threatens harshly.

“If you harm me I’ll have you sent somewhere else, I know where you come from and I’m assuming you don’t want to go back.”

The room goes eerily silent like he’s making a choice, he opens his mouth to speak but a groan accidentally slips past his lips.

Oh… the big oaf is in heat, and top scientists couldn’t tell or try to track his cycle?

“You in heat big guy?”

“No-“

“Such a liar, I’m not here to make fun of you, I’m here to make sure you get proper help.”

“The only way I’ll get proper help is if I fuck someone.” So damn blunt you think to yourself.

He continues speaking: “I think you know they won’t allow that though.”

“Would you like some toys? I can request that for you.”

“Useless.”

You let out the loudest sigh and plop down on his fluffy bed. Bending your head in his direction you see he’s not looking at your face but your body, eyes fully trained on your pert nipples because of the cold.

You allow the poor suffering hybrid to mount you, putting a good bit of his weight on your back you can feel the outline of his thick meaty cock resting near your cunt and ass.

He’s hard, fully hard and probably has been for a while: you feel almost a little bad.

Sukuna doesn’t waste anytime grinding down against you, it feels so fucking good, his cock is accepting anything even if it’s the bare minimum. Everytime he meets your ass he whines, such a needy tiger you coo.

He’s ignoring all the dirty little comments you send his way too focused on the only good sensation he’s felt for a while, his hand doesn’t compare to your rounded ass. You reach between your legs and pull his shorts down, letting his cock bob free for a minute before he’s pushing up against you again.

He’s producing so much precum that youCan feel it through your silky garments.

“Smells so good… really good.” “Mhhhphmmm-“ he’s now being open with his groans too focused on the feeling of his tip prodding your clothed pussy. His swishing tail is within your eyesight, you grab it and rub it for extra stimulation.

You help him a little bit by bouncing your ass against him. He places his head in the crook of your neck and starts nibbling on your neck, you can feel how sharp his damn teeth are and pray to yourself he isn’t going to bite you: killing you in the process.

He doesn’t do any of that instead he just lightly bites, using no strength at all. While he’s busying tearing up your neck you slip your panties off, grabbing his fat length and teasing your wet hole. Just feeling it in your hand has your body burning up in arousal it’s been a while since you’ve had a cock, especially a cock his size.

You slowly start inching it in, the stretch is so damn unbearable and uncomfortable. When he feels what you’re doing he starts moving his hips already. An impatient thing such as him isn’t gonna wait. He gets about halfway in and you feel a thick liquid fill you, did this beast just cum? Already?

“Nhhhnn.. fuck-..” this doesn’t deter him because he’s sitting fully on his knees and pulling you flush against him, his entire length snuggly inside your pussy. He doesn’t wait to bounce you back on him, you can’t comprehend anything properly so shocked by how he just made you take every inch of him.

Your lashes flutter closed as he ruts into you like you’re the damn sex tox he’s been given, one he wasn’t gonna take care of properly. His hold on you is extremely tight so you can do nothing but take him fully, even when your walls threaten to constrict around him he pushes through it and keeps fucking Into you.

You allow him, allow him to thrust like a wild animal, mercilessly pulling all the way out of you just to slam back in. Drool is seeping down your neck where he’s latched on in droves. He’s far too gone, pussy has never felt this good.

By the end Sukuna is still rutting uselessly, he’s not even hard anymore he just can’t stop leaking cum nor has that good euphoric feeling stopped. He’s made a mess of your pussy, his cum and yours seeping down your thighs and onto his ruined sheets.

Hes licking at your face and you can hear a deep rumbling in his chest, this big hybrid is purring in content. Any attempt to move from under him is completely halted, he won’t let you move even an inch.

He begins sucking on your nipples, they’re definitely gonna be sore later but now it seems he just wants comfort and you fully give that to him. Rubbing his ears and whispering sweet nothings to him.

After that incident Sukuna is completely attached, he constantly whines for you to come see him including the scientists also calling for you to calm him down. He won’t let you have a moments peace.

Even when you tell him you’re extremely busy he’s having none of it, if he wants you to laze around and do nothing but rub him or praise/coddle him he completely expects it!

As his mate you’re meant to be with him all the time you should be grateful he’s even letting you leave the nest.

You were left fully shocked when he first called you his mate but the scientists explained that you were his first and now you are his last, they had all praised you because testing was made easier if you were there.

They’re all surprised to see him completely like mush under you, like one time when it was time for his blood to be drawn he made you come and sit in his lap while he had it taken. The doctors said he seemed to be completely smitten with you, in love and so possessive.

[devotion-disorder]

be careful what you wish for...the village Killian's from is having a bit of a population crisis right now, and having a nice little human come by could be just what they need...

Oh noooo....I'm just a naive human lost in this big forest with no one waiting for me...would be a shame if some beautiful elves whisked me away and brainwashed me into thinking I'm their pet/breeding machine and only need their "love and devotion". That would be terrible /silly

- 🩵

wdym the beautiful elf men do not, in fact, have my best interests in mind and were planning something nefarious from the start </3 I was just gonna write down some quick thoughts but it kinda got out of hand LOL

Content warning for: implied drugging (hypnotics, aphrodisiacs), dubcon/ noncon touching (nothing explicit though), manipulation, slight obsessive/ yandere themes, general elven condescension?

Imagine that you’ve accidentally wandered too deep into the forest and lost your way, your shoes hardly holding up in the rough terrain, and the last remaining rays of the setting sun are snuffed out by the overgrown foliage…

To make things worse, you walk right into some sort of trap - a stumbling step is all it takes to activate the runic trip switch, and a suffocating cloud of purple gas is the last thing you remember before things fade to dark…

How clumsy of you! Good thing Priest Killian happened to be on his evening walks when he spotted your pitiful form twitching and writhing in the hunting trap he’d set up; carefully he scooped you up and went his way back to the village. Only the most observant would be able to discern that the Priests’ unmoving smile seemed a bit wider than usual.

It was a trap the elves set up for hunting animals, he’d explained. The poison was almost enough to be fatal, had he not been there in time to save you. It’ll also take a bit for all the toxins to be out of your system. No worries though, because Killian offers to take care of you in his quarters until you’re up on your feet again. 

You don’t even remember if you’d managed to give a response, what with lead-heavy limbs and relentless migraine pulsing in your head. Luckily, Killian treated you with utmost care. 3 meals a day (along with the antidote treatment) brought to your bed (well, his bed), and spoon-fed to you because you were too weak to even sit up. He massaged your stiff muscles and brushed your hair. He ran warm baths and washed you – and even then he never opened his eyes – so at least there was some comfort in that.

Under Killian’s care you gradually regain your strength, save for the occasional dizzy spell and fatigue. But he saved your life after all! Feeling indebted to him, you offer to stay longer in the village to help around. While Killian’s expression is ever-unreadable, you can’t help but sense a bit of…amusement from him upon your suggestion. Regardless, he agrees – so long as you agree not to wander too far outside the village, because it’s very dangerous out there, he said.

And of course, he maintained a watchful eye over you, shadowing your tottering form as you went around introducing yourself to the other villagers. How cute.

You worked whatever odd jobs the elves had for you. which isn’t much at all. Mostly just menial tasks, or perhaps relaying messages. Things that they could’ve easily done themselves with their magic, but it’s fun watching an over-enthusiastic little human do it instead, so eager to please. You would say they are…endeared, perhaps. Or maybe they’re just looking out for you, what with your unfinished recovery. Anyhow, the elves are charmed by the newfound presence in the village.

Killian gifts you a new set of clothes, made by the local tailor (you don’t remember visiting a tailor for measurements at any point though, strange). To help you feel more at home, he said. It's pretty, a delicate garment that flutters cool against your skin in the warm summer heat, with an unmistakably elven style of elegance. It is a little short but, well, elves are known for being tall so maybe they're not used to human proportions? The white silk is a bit sheer in places, and you tried to ignore how it clung to the contours of your body when you sweat…

You hadn’t expected elves to be so openly affectionate. Being a long-living race known for their high culture and intelligence, it made for the perception that they were maybe a bit prudish, engrossed in their endless pursuit of finer things to care about lowly desires. But you suppose the elves are as curious of you as you are of them. You got to know some of them quite well, and soon it was routine for them to envelop you in their embrace. They pet your hair and nuzzle into your neck (Killian said something about how common skinship is in elven culture), at times slipping their digits beneath your clothes…sometimes you don't really remember, because the medicine still made you a bit sluggish. But it's ok! Their affectionate nature is a surprise but one you welcome. You think. 

During all of which, your treatment continued. Just a little longer, Killian promised. The side-effects seem to show no sign of waning, if not worsening at times. Sometimes you struggle to recall what has happened and what has not. The elves didn’t seem to mind, gladly cradling your tired body when you are overcome with sudden bounds of weakness. You poor little thing, they cooed, one hand combing through your hair to distract you from their other that wandered along your body.

Some days the medicine leaves you feeling more flushed than usual, and a strange feeling you can’t quite place invades your senses; a deep, frustrating kind of yearning that throbbed in your core. You assume it's the side-effects of advanced elf sorcery/ enchantment in your antidote treatment. It’s a tad embarrassing, but you can’t really do anything about it when the elves (if not the Priest himself) check in on you so frequently. 

Your only reprieve comes when Killian slots himself snug against your smaller form at bedtime. Were you always this close? You’re not sure if you recall, trying desperately to suppress the suggestive thoughts flooding your brain. His cool hands trail over your body, and it feels way too good against your overheating skin, so good that you can’t even think about resisting as his lips come crashing on top of yours, when he slips his arm underneath your waist to push you closer, closer against him.

Stumbling out of Killian’s quarters in the dead of night, confused, and your vision blurred by hot tears, all you can think about is getting away from him, from this godforsaken place. The other elves stepped out of their houses from the commotion. It was as if something in the air shifted. Their friendly, curious pretenses have dropped completely, leaving a ravenous hunger and unyielding need in their place. The way they leer at your body, the disheveled elven outfit failing to provide much cover, makes your hair stand on their ends. The elves close in on you, their concerned voices laced with something unmistakably sinister. You’re trapped.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor.

“Now, now, I’m sure we’re all very excited about our little one here, but everyone will have their turn sooner or later.” Killian explains. He leans close to your ear, whispering in a volume only audible to you. “Look at you getting everyone so riled up already. Aren’t you such a needy little pet?” You’re paralyzed in fear, but his husky voice in your ears is still setting your nerves alight. 

“I’ll give you two choices. Either you let me 'take care of you' back at home,” his arms snaked around your body again, lithe fingers fanning across your thighs. “Or we’ll give everyone a show, and maybe let them get...a preemptive taste, as well. What’ll it be?”

[phantomlifes]

tasm who got sprayed with an aphrodisiac, so he goes to his roommate and fucks her well into the morning 🤭🤭🤭

A/N this deviated a bit but i needed to spread the munch agenda…hope you can forgive me friend…..

peter enters the apartment like a hurricane, his shaking body and heaving breaths impossible to ignore.

“peter?” you ask, eyes wide with concern. “what’s wrong?”

he doesn’t answer at first as he looks at you. of course you’d be wearing tiny pajama shorts right now, when he has no control of where his eyes land. he’s trying hard to catch his breath, his hands clenching into fists. he brushes the hair curled with sweat off his forehead and forces himself to look you in the eyes, raising his head higher. he anchors himself on your kitchen counter behind him. “aphrodisiac.” he breathed. “came home for my research.” he gulped, pushing himself to his bedroom, still evidently woozy. “gotta be an antidote.” he started to sway to the side, and you moved on instinct for him to fall in your arms.

“easy.” you drawled, arms shaking with his weight. you’ve never seen him in this state before. “where’s the antidote? do we have it?” you try to keep your voice level, but the urgency escapes your tongue in droves.

he shakes his head, looking up at you. his brown eyes have been blown even darker, the pupil completely swallowing his irises. “lab. somewhere. gotta go.” he pushes off of you, but you grab his shaking hand.

“there is no way in hell i’m letting you leave here like this.” you took a deep breath, knowing the ethics of this are dubious at best, since you’ve been attracted to him since the day he moved in and he is technically drugged. he’s obviously in pain, and you can’t let him go out alone all the way to the lab to get the antidote. you don’t even know if he’d survive. “look. it’s an aphrodisiac. i….” you closed your eyes before you continued. “if it will take the pain away, you could….take it out on me.” you swallowed, trying to put it gently.

peter looks at you in shock, managing to push himself off the ground all the way. “you mean it?” he asks, looking straight at your lips. “because it would…” his voice trails off, cracking.

“yes.” you grab his shoulders. “i mean it”

peter immediately grabs your face with his large hands and pulls you into him, his lips sliding against yours in an anxious release. you didn’t imagine your first kiss going like this, but it doesn’t count, right? as soon as he gets a bit of control of himself, though, he slows down a little, capturing you in a breath-sucking kiss, both of you breaking away for air twice. “are you sure?” he asks again, his voice a low rasp this time. you nod and he urges you to jump, carrying you with a kiss into his bedroom.

he lays you on the bed as gently as he can, and you immediately make work of sliding off your shorts and underwear. he’s so obvious with his staring, it’s adorable. “can i?” his eyes wander down and he asks again in that low rasp. “please?”

the way he said please sent a shiver down your spine. “yeah.” you answered breathlessly. “what do you want?”

“my face buried in your thighs.” he responds instantly, with the cadence of a casual conversation for something so brazen. you stifle a gasp and nod. he wastes no time gripping your thighs and hooking them on his shoulders. “you’re fucking dripping, baby.” he remarks as he starts to explore with his fingers. “this for me? you like seeing me worked up?” he almost whispers.

“i think so.” you manage to get out in between gasps from his fingers brushing against your clit. “do…do that more.”

“this?” he asks, rubbing his thumb in circles. “you like that, baby?” you squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head back with a stifled moan as your answer, and he grins. he takes this opportunity to start putting his mouth to work, his tongue lapping crudely as his thumb resumes pressing all of your nerves. the way he’s sucking and licking is filthy, the wet noises, his hums of delight and your cries of pleasure create a cacophony of pornography. you buck your hips against his face, pulling him closer lightly by his hair and when he groans you feel it inside of you. you whine, arching your back and he has to pin your hips down with a hand. he pulls his face away for a second, his mouth glistening with a smirk. “now who can’t control themselves?”

“shut up.” you whined in embarrassment, grabbing his hair and pulling him back down. he breathed a laugh against your clit, and you squirmed as much as you could in his hold. you’re not gonna last. he hummed and spoke into you, “yes ma’am.” and you knew you were done for.

“peter?” you whimper in between heavy breaths. “gonna cum.”

“yeah, baby?” he pulls his face away a bit, still keeping his thumb in position, only switching it to take your clit between his lips. “go on. cum for me.”

that’s all it took for you to release all over his chin with a weak little cry, your voice hoarse and breathless. you try to catch your breath, laying your head back on his pillow. “alright…” you breathed. “just give me a second…and you could…we could-“

“-about that.” he interrupted you. “i….i already did?” he says in a question, almost like he’s embarrassed, stark contrast to what his tone was minutes ago. “the effects wore off. let’s just leave it at that…” he trailed off, coughing. you prop yourself up on your elbows.

“did…did you…” you look down. “cum in your suit just from eating me out?”

he takes a deep breath, looking at you up and down. “maybe.”

you fall back with a giggle, and he immediately gets defensive. “what?”

“nothing.” you shake your head, the blood rushing to your face. “just so fucking hot.”

[astraystayyh]

chan x reader. hurt and lots of comfort. description of an anxiety attack and its aftermath (based on my own experiences).

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

If you remain still long enough, breathe as quietly as you can muster, would the world forget you exist and pass your anxiety along to somebody else?

A selfish question, perhaps, but one that you can’t help but ask as you sit on your freezing bathroom floor, knees tightly hugged to your chest.

You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve sat in this position. Time suddenly seemed elusive to you, as if a concept too hard for your frantic heart to grasp. All you knew was the ache of your limbs and the feeling that doom was just around the corner.

It was one of those days where you woke up feeling anxious. As if your brain had made up its mind about you in your sleep, deciding to hold you hostage to your anxiety. The bed was cold, your boyfriend Chan long gone to his studio, his lingering cologne the only indication he was ever there. So, you tried to distract yourself throughout the day— going on a walk, listening to music, cleaning your house, but it didn't help. Nothing seemed to help you.

So here you were, hours later, sat on your bathroom floor, trying to calm yourself down, all alone. But you could tell that it wasn't working, that you were on a losing race against your own body. Soon, you wouldn't be able to control your anxiety, soon it would turn into a full blown attack.

You wanted to call Chan, you truly did, but he was busy, and you refused to be a burden. Especially since he told you through texts that he'd be home late, so that definitely meant that he was making a new track in his studio.

So, you settled on rocking yourself back and forth, your hands slowly moving up to your shoulders, patting yourself down. This is what you used to do before knowing Chan. When you didn't have anyone around you who understood. You’d trick your bruised mind into believing you were hugged, the warmth of your own touch easing your anxiety a little.

But tonight it had the opposite effect. Tonight, you broke down in sobs, your breathing more irregular than ever. You curled into a ball on the floor, your hand moving to your chest in a futile attempt to slow down your heart. You could no longer breathe, the air in your lungs morphing into unkind fingers, choking you from within. White dots started dancing in front of your eyes, as your entire being shook like a lone leaf, left to fend for itself before the unyielding winds.

It suddenly got too much— the sobs, the pain, the ache. You couldn't bare it anymore. So with trembling hands, you unlocked your phone, calling the only person who would be able to calm you down. Chan. You put the phone on speaker, before tossing it on the ground next to you. You couldn't even muster the energy to hold it to your ear.

“Hi my love, I'm a bit busy right now can I call you later?” Chan's rushed words ring through the bathroom, your anxiety intensifying before the possible antidote. “Honey?” he asks again when he doesn’t hear your reply.

“Chan—“ you sob, the only word your weighted tongue allows you to speak of.

“I’m here, I'm here baby. I'm coming right now,” his panicked voice rings through your ears, following the frantic rush of your boiling blood. The sound of shuffling indicates that he’s getting up and leaving the studio, the confused ‘what’s going on?’ Han shouts confirms it.

The only reply you give him is your sobs, and his heart constricts, twists and turns at the sound of your cries. “Hey, hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re okay. Breathe for me, okay? Take a deep breath with me, please—” his voice breaks, “please baby.”

You try, with all your will, to force a steady breath to rise from your stomach to the tip of your tongue. It escapes faintly, but Chan catches it. “You’re doing well, baby. Fuck—” he turns on his car’s engine. “Um… Minho bit my ass today.”

His words catch you off guard, the gears in your mind stopping for a split second. You remember a faint conversation under your covers, months ago, when you told him that distractions help you when you’re anxious. Force you to redirect your thinking somewhere else.

He remembered.

“Was it tasty?” you breathe out, and he chuckles, a sweet sound intermingled with a sigh of relief. “I don’t know, I need to ask him baby.”

You nod though he can’t see you, willing yourself to breathe again. In, out, in, out, Chan’s own breathing guiding you. “Should I bite him in return?” he asks. Tears pool in your eyes once again. “I’m close, so close,” he reassures.

“Okay.”

“To the biting?”

“Mm,” you manage to hum, as you hear the door of your apartment open, Chan's hurried steps echoing in your home. You knew he was looking for you but you couldn't call out to him. After painfully long seconds, stretching out as if to torture you even more, he finally opens the bathroom floor.

He finally finds you.

“It's okay, I'm here. I'm here,” he wastes no time before scooping you into his arms and hugging you. He knows that the pressure eases your anxiety so he tightens his hold without you having to say so, pulling you as close as two pages of the same book.

With you on his lap, he starts rocking back and forth, his words coming out a jumble mess. He can’t settle on what to say to you, switching between stupid jokes his friends told him, and words of reassurance he repeats like a promise.

His words break, his tongue faltering each time your sob gets louder, but he speaks. He speaks and speaks for twenty minutes, all to distract you, all to keep you grounded, and safe.

After a long while, the storm finally passes, leaving behind an excruciating exhaustion. You turn into a puddle in his hold, softening like malleable clay. He holds you as gently as a porcelain vase.

His warm palms settle atop your cheeks, his eyes gazing into yours for the first time since he got here. A sheen glaze taints them, one you know is mirrored in your own. His thumbs gently swipe away your remaining tears, grazing your face with a tenderness that makes your being ache. Your lips press a faint kiss onto his palm, his find their way to your forehead, and you feel it all, through his kiss. His fear, his relief, his love, soft and gentle, for you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse as you kiss his forehead back.

“I’ve got you my love. Always,” he smiles at you softly, his dimples appearing like the sun after a cold day.

“Did Minho really bite you?” you giggle faintly, and he scratches his ear sheepishly. “No, but I don’t put it past him to do it.”

“Is that something you’re into?” You cock a teasing eyebrow at him, and he shakes his head, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. “Only if it’s you,” he says as he wraps his arm around your waist, picking you up swiftly.

“I’ll consider,” you yawn, wrapping your arms around his neck, your face finding a refuge in the crook of his neck.

“Why thank you,” he smiles as he leads you to your bedroom, settling you gently atop the bed. He quickly climbs in with you, bringing you so close to him, his warmth ends up spreading through your entire being, filling up every nook and cranny of your soul.

“I think as long as you’re near, I’ll always be okay,” you say, as your eyes close slowly, you miss the tender smile that blooms in his face at your words.

“Good thing I exist to be near you, then.”

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

[moonstruckme]

have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble

lovely weather for a bonfire tonight!! congrats on 5k you beautiful beautiful writer 🫶🏼🫶🏼

can i please get forced proximity with remus 🤭

Thanks for requesting gorgeous!

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 874 words

You look up at the sound of movement in the stacks, and you groan when you connect the dots. 

“You’re joking.” 

Remus lifts his brows as slides into the seat across from you, the scar next to his eye stretching with the movement. “You look surprised to see me.” 

“Slughorn told me he’d ‘connect me’ with a tutor.” You roll your eyes, dragging your thumb and forefinger over the feather of your quill so it ruffles. “He didn’t tell me it’d be one of Gryffindor’s golden boys.” 

“He might have suspected you wouldn’t accept the help.” You scoff but don’t deny it, and Remus starts taking books out of his bag, one amber eye on you. “I’m a bit surprised you need tutoring, to be honest.” 

“I barely do,” you say, hating how petulant the lie sounds as soon as it’s out of your mouth. “I just like to stay on top of things. Don’t want to fall behind.” 

He hums, a soft curl to his bottom lip as he sets his books down on the wooden table. “Suppose that’s how you’ve always stayed right on my heels.” 

“I’m going to pass you in charms this year,” you reply reflexively. Then heat rises to your face, because you very well might, but Remus will likely pass you in potions. Though the two of you have been nearly neck-and-neck for marks since you got to Hogwarts, you’ve always been better than him in potions, at least until now. 

Remus must see the shift in your mood. His posture changes, and you hate the gentleness of his tone when he says, “You probably will. So, what are we working on?” 

You huff out a breath. “Um, I’m supposed to be brewing an antidote to this poison Slughorn gave me.” 

“Okay, and what’s the problem?”

You glare at him, but Remus only looks at you steadily. “I don’t know what the poison is, much less how to find the antidote. I’ve memorized every poison in our textbook, and it doesn’t seem like any of them.” 

“It may not be in the book,” he says, voice lower and far less sharp than yours. “Do you have it with you?” 

You dig in your bag, retrieving the small vial of liquid. It’s clear but thick, a sludge that sticks to the edges of the glass when you try to swirl it. Remus takes it from you. 

“It’s not about knowing what the poison is so much as what’s in it.” He removes the stopper, sniffing tentatively at the semi-liquid stuff inside. “Once you can figure out some of the key ingredients, you can use other ingredients to nullify those in your antidote.” He holds it out a few inches from your nose. “Smell.” 

You lean directly over it and breathe in, and instantly, instinctively, recoil back into your seat. You feel your face scrunch up, throat convulsing in a gag. 

“Fuck,” you choke out, “is that how it kills you?” 

Remus chuckles, and the sound tickles down your spine like a grazing touch. 

“You did that on purpose,” you accuse. 

“It wasn’t on purpose, but it was entertaining.” 

“Dick.” 

He grins. It’s an effort not to return it. “How did it smell?” 

“Rank. As if you don’t know.” 

Remus’ grin worsens. “I mean what did it smell like, love.” 

“Oh.” You ignore the way your heart stutters at the endearment, slipped in at the end of his statement like it’s automatic. “Um, kinda like piss? But mustier.” 

“Good.” Your tutor’s voice is coaxing. He leans his elbows on the table, his eyes on yours. “What common ingredient in poisons does that remind you of?” 

The realization must show on your face, because Remus’ lips twist upwards before you even speak. “Hemlock,” you breathe. 

“There you are,” he says, nearly as quietly. “And what is the easiest ingredient to counteract hemlock with?” 

“Bezoar.” You tilt your head back, covering your face with your hands. Remus laughs again, and you hear him stoppering the vial. “I can’t believe I’ve spent all week agonizing over this, and it was that simple. I just need to make a potion with bezoar?” 

“And preferably a few other things to counteract the less fatal side effects, but yeah.” You lower your hands and Remus is giving you a knowing look, almost proud, as he passes you back the vial. “See, you managed it.” 

“Thank you,” you tell him sincerely. 

“I think you’re getting too in your head about needing to memorize everything,” he says, propping his chin on a hand. And he looks nice like this. Boyish, like someone you could honestly enjoy talking to. His hair pushes up above his ear. “You’re a hard worker, but you need to give yourself some credit for your intuition, too. You knew what the poison was once you let yourself think about it, you were just too focused on the facts to get there without help.” 

“You shouldn’t be telling me this.” You feel a smile tugging at your lips. “I’m just going to use the knowledge to beat you out in potions and everything else, you know. Being nice to me doesn’t get you a free pass.” 

Remus’ eyes crackle with challenge. “Wouldn’t expect any different.”

[freedomfireflies]

How Many?*

Summary: An extra for One for the Money*

The one where Mr. Styles has had a rough day, and fucking you hard and slow is his only remedy.

(Inspired by this softdom!harry prompt!!)

Word Count: 1.8k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Shit, honey. I know. I know, Peach. Stay still for me, yeah?”

You nod quickly, lip between your teeth as your nails scratch down Harry’s back. 

You’re still getting used to his size. Always needing an extra minute or two to catch your breath, which he dutifully gives you. 

Normally, he eggs you on. Mocks your inability to take him. How your tight, little hole is just too tiny for him to fit through. How he’d ruin you before he even got halfway in.

But today is different. Today, he kisses your cheeks, your nose, your lips. Helping the seconds go by as he whispers, “Doing so good, my love. Feel so fucking good for me.”

You try to relax your mind, your body, your muscles. Wanting to feel him as deep as he can go more than anything in the world. Almost wishing he’d just drive himself to the hilt and wreck you if that’s what it takes.

He nuzzles into your neck, breathing you in. His heart is racing against your own and you feel your stomach flip.

It’s rare he lets you see the bad days. It’s rare he has them at all. But instead of hiding them from you—instead of hiding from you—he’d come home and taken you into his arms. 

He held you, and kissed you, and touched you. Gently brushed at your clit before mindlessly stroking through your folds. It was clear what he needed.

You.

And he has you. For now. For always. His body and yours connecting as one until his hips are pressing down into you. His cock now sheathed completely inside your cunt as you exhale a deep, strained, and pleasured breath.

You grab onto his ass and help roll his hips. Whimpering as the sensation in your stomach begins to build again. Soft and slow.

“S’a good girl,” he murmurs, and it’s so very heavy. Yet filled with relief. As if you’re the antidote he needed. As if you’re his remedy.

“Sir,” you whisper, nipping at his earlobe as he grabs onto your leg and hooks it around his hip. You follow suit, tossing your other one around him as well until your ankles can cross near his spine. Aiding in his slow but pointed thrusts.

“I know,” he says again, swallowing a groan as he rocks into you. “Fucking missed this. Missed this pretty pussy today.”

You make another noise as he suddenly nudges his nose against yours. Calling your attention to him.

“Missed you,” he adds gently before kissing you until there’s no air in your lungs.

And you can’t deny the leap in your heart from the thought. The idea that he thinks about you even when you’re not around.

His fingers dance between your bodies until they find your clit. Again, he presses and rubs in cruel but beautiful ways. Making stars scatter behind your eyelids as you gasp and arch from the bed.

“How many times should I make you cum today, hm?” he asks, glancing down at your overused and sensitive nerves. “Already came for me once. Or was it twice?”

Your head buries into the mattress as you struggle against the overstimulation, feeling ruined beyond repair.

“Peach,” he warns, pinching you tight and forcing a gasp to rip from your throat. “I asked you a question.”

“…twice,” you just barely manage to pant, skin incredibly warm. “Made me cum twice, Sir.”

“And how many times should I make you cum now?” he asks again, kissing the side of your nose sweetly. “Three? Four?”

The feeling between your thighs is expanding. Exploding. Making your nails curl into his skin until you’re sure you’ve drawn blood.

“I’ve always been rather fond of the number five,” he muses before suddenly pressing his thumb into your clit and watching as yet another orgasm tears you apart from the inside out.

You know he wants to be proud of the way he’s teased you but feeling you cum around his cock is always his favorite part. And you can see that euphoric haze dance across his face as he sucks in a sharp breath and releases your clit so he can slide his thumb into your mouth.

You suck it with purpose. With appreciation. Whimpering from the taste and the warmth of his hand. Letting your tongue explore the digit before settling him between your lips contently.

He balances his weight on his forearm to keep you satisfied. Continuing his gentle thrusts as you come down from the rush. “You okay, honey?”

You hum quietly, head nodding as you keep his finger snug in your mouth.

He seems pleased. “Gonna give me another one?”

Posed like a question but you know you have little choice. He wants five orgasms from you, and he won’t stop until he either gets them or you safeword. 

So you motion your agreement once again and release his thumb. “Yes, Sir.”

He grins. “Good fucking girl.”

With that, he kisses you, and delivers another sharp thrust. 

He finds a familiar rhythm, uncurling your leg from his hip so he can press it into the bed. Needing a deeper angle before he’s slipping an arm beneath your back and lifting you altogether. 

You cry out his name, grateful the cameras aren’t rolling so you can use his real name. The one that melts from your tongue like butter on pancakes. Warm, and soft, and so deliciously sweet as you say it again just to hear it.

You feel a shiver roll down his spine at the sound. At the feel of you around his twitching cock. 

“Harry,” you breathe just to see his lashes flutter. “Harry, please…please.”

In any other moment, he’d chastise you for the use of his name during a scene. Cameras or not. But today he needs it. Today he craves it.

You feel his muscles quiver under the weight of your adoration for him. He’s too far gone in his idea of you to think straight, and the dominant man you’ve come to know dissipates into the lover you cum for.

He returns to your clit as tears return to your eyes. You’ve always been sensitive. Perhaps too sensitive, especially right now as he works on your fourth.

“Please…please,” you gasp, writhing beneath his hold until he has to use his weight to keep you still. Pressing your body into the mattress until you have no other choice but to take the continued pleasure. “Sir, please—”

“Does it ache, honey?” he coos gently, glancing down at the way your body reacts to his touch and overstimulation. The sensitive nub much more swollen than it was before. “Sting?”

You nod fervently, lip tugged between your teeth until the taste of metal fills your mouth. “Can’t…can’t…can’t—”

“You can,” he murmurs. Firm yet oddly comforting. “You can, Peach. Daddy needs you to cum again. S’gonna help him feel better. And you wanna help him, don’t you? Help him feel better?”

He knows how to play you. Knows how to encourage the response he wants, and your skin is on fire as you squirm beneath his hand. 

“Yes,” you pant before glancing up at him through tear-stained lashes. “Yes, Daddy. Want you to feel better.”

And you do. To the point that you’d endure hours of torture and overstimulation if it made him happy. 

So you allow him to pinch, and pull, and rub until you’re beginning to sob. And you don’t mind because you know he’s watching and monitoring each reaction. Making sure that he never gives you more than you can handle.

But then you feel that strange and somewhat rare blooming in your chest. The kind that makes your eyes roll back into your head as you grab onto his shoulders and gasp.

You don’t have time to warn him. Don’t even have time to understand what’s about to happen.

But he does.

He’s seen this look on your face before and this is exactly what he’d wanted. More than anything, and the smirk the spreads across his face when he feels the rush of liquid over his cock is incredibly smug. 

“There you go,” he coos, glancing down to watch the way you squirt for him. The way you soak his thighs, and hands, and stomach. The way you drench yourself and douse the bedding beneath in your arousal for him. “Just like that, honey, keep going. You’re okay.”

You’re whimpering so hard, your throat is sore. But he loves it. Indulges in each needy whine and groan as you melt under the weight of his strong frame.

You’re still sobbing, cheeks wet and warm. Hair matted to your forehead and skin sticky.

It’s the most beautiful look in the whole world, and he can’t help the rush of pride and appreciation he feels as he gazes down at you.

He slows his thrusts to allow you just a moment of reprieve, hand coming up to stroke down your face lovingly.

“Shh,” he whispers as you hiccup. Thumb tenderly brushing at your tears. “You’re okay, Peach. Did so good for me.”

You try to reply but your chest is heaving with more cries. “S’too much…too much, Sir—”

“I know,” he hums, cupping your jaw and dipping down to kiss the tip of your nose. “I know, baby. M’really pushing you, but you’re doing so well. Almost done, yeah? Just need you to cum for me one more time. Want you to cum with me.”

You begin to shake your head, the idea almost too much, and you catch the worry in his expression. 

“Do you need to stop?” he asks now with an air of seriousness. “What’s your color, my love?”

You pause to catch your breath, allowing yourself enough room to decide. “It’s…it’s green.”

“Green,” he repeats but he’s unconvinced. Brows furrowing as he studies you. “Are you sure?”

You sniffle a bit before nodding slowly. “Yes, Sir. It’s green. Just needed a second.”

“You can have all the seconds you want,” he tells you, pressing his lips to yours caringly. “If you need to call yellow or red—”

“I don’t,” you insist, suddenly overcome by the fear he might stop. And you know he will. “I don’t, Daddy, promise. Was just a lot.”

“I know,” he says again, beginning to smile. “Know squirting takes a lot out of you, hm?”

You nod again and nuzzle into his palm. “Yes. But I’m okay now. Really.”

He regards you carefully, searching for any signs of deceit. “I need you to be sure, Peach. You’ll hurt Daddy if you lie to him.”

“M’not,” you whimper, turning to kiss his hand as if to solidify your promise. “M’really not. Wanna feel you cum with me, Sir. Need it. Need it, Sir, please—”

Your begging has always had this innate ability to turn his brain to mush. And it seems that hasn’t changed as a certain expression passes over his face and his thrusts begin to pick up once again.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, sliding his hand down to your throat. Squeezing it gently, yet enough to make you feel secure. 

You sigh contently as you dance your hands down his spine, taking hold of his beautiful ass to help him along. 

He smirks.

“Then let’s get that number five.”

Next Part:

~ Yellow* (Extra)

~ Full One for the Money Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @narry-heart @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz

[2018-01-20]

if you still have your 1k words of kissing satoru pls bestow it to me 🧎🏽‍♀️i’m grabbing him by the back of his blindfold and making out with him fr

pairing. high schooler!gojo satoru × gn!reader

content. fluff + one kiss, implied that reader is shorter than gojo, somewhat proofread (i hate everything) read slowly!!

sticky-note. IM CRYING the way u worded this ask made me want to write an entirely new thing of making out w gojo 😭 ty for sending this in leeee 🫶

it is no secret that gojo satoru looks like a good kisser.

he’s attentive; one large hand on the small of your back to hold you steady while the other rests on your hip, eyes on you to see if you’ll make the first move. to both his and your dismay, you don’t move a single inch.

“i can’t do it,” you finally say, exasperated, pulling away to quickly hide your face in your hands. you awkwardly twist away from his figure, unable to stand the way that you’re able to see his stupidly pretty eyes through his sunglasses. it infuriates you to no end. “i give up. this is too embarrassing.”

“that’s so mean of you to say,” gojo whines not unsimilar to a toddler, but there is only amusement in his tone as he lightly tugs on the waistband of your pants, trying to get you to turn back around. “shouldn’t you be honored to kiss the one and only gojo satoru?”

“shutupshutupshutup,” you chant, mostly to yourself than to the obnoxious boy behind you. you swat weakly at his hand while trying to ignore the demonic voices in your head.

it is no secret that you’ve liked your classmate for a long while now. as cute and funny (and hot) as gojo is, he is twice as annoying and unpleasant. you swear he makes it his daily goal to get your blood boiling every chance he gets. that is the sole reason why you don’t plan on professing your love anytime soon: due to the fact that shoko will forever be disappointed in you and will never let you live it down if she knew. you don’t even want to think about what utahime would ultimately think of you.

he continues to bug you, “c’mo-on...” you can practically hear him sporting his signature smug grin. “do you really wanna go back to jujutsu high like that and kiss suguru instead?”

at that, you spin around in an instant—a mortified look on your face that further urges you to stab an accusatory finger at his chest. “y-you’re a damn liar! there is no way that there is an actual curse who’s goddamn antidote requires you to kiss someone when you get hit.”

sneakily, he wraps a palm around your wrist but makes no move to push your hand away. “but you just got touched by that cursed spirit, right? doesn’t your skin feel all sticky and itchy, like i mentioned?”

as much as you hate to admit it, you know that he’s right. before the two of you had gotten into the fight in the first place, he warned you not to get hit and the symptoms you would have to face if you did. your skin does feel like you just took a swim in poison ivy, and your head feels dizzy with a sudden migraine that should not be there, since gojo had instantly caught you the moment you faced a hit from the cursed spirit.

“b-but it doesn’t make any sense,” you sputter out, a weak last-minute resort. you really do not want to kiss gojo satoru—at least, not because of a measly curse—and have to hear him blab about it later on to your friends. you rant on, “if such a technique exists, then why didn’t you just kill the thing right away? aren’t you the strongest? why am i even on this mission with you?”

“hey!” he feigns an offended gasp, “are you saying that you don’t like hanging out with me?” he groans and dramatically lays an arm on his forehead, reminding you of a mistress in distress. you stare blankly. “how cruel of you. and besides, just because i’m the strongest doesn’t mean i can kill a first-grade so quickly.”

you keep staring at him with a disapproving look, but he only looks back at you with a joyous glint in his eyes. “...you’re insufferable,” you finally huff out, your hand still in his. but the both of you can hear the undertone of surrounder in your voice.

you stand awkwardly still in front of him for a few solid seconds, narrowing your eyes as he returns your defeated glare with a sheepish smile. you can’t help but sigh to yourself—you’re going to have to prepare yourself for a mouthful from shoko when you both head back.

you let him pull you closer when he tugs at your hand, your other palm moving to rest on his chest to steady yourself. but even then, you don’t get to kiss him until he leans down from that freakishly tall height of his— gently meeting his lips with yours.

it isn’t a quick peck. in fact, it’s a sweet and slow kind of kiss that makes your heart skip a concerningly amount of beats. a free hand of satoru’s moves up to softly cup the back of your head to deepen the kiss. nothing about his movements show that he’s in a rush to get the whole ordeal over with—and as much as you would like to lie and say that you hate it, you can’t help but step forwards to reach him better too.

your mind is in so much of a daze that you don’t even realize that satoru turned his limitless infinity just for you.

when you finally step back into reality and—reluctantly—pull away, gojo is grinning brightly with his sunglasses tucked into his hair. you didn’t even notice that he pushed them up to make the kiss more comfortable for you. however, you do notice that your skin still very much feels uncomfortable on your body and your head is pounding (whether it be from the symptoms or the kiss, you don’t really wanna know).

“you’re so cute,” gojo chuckles unabashedly, laughing again when you avert your gaze with another huff and a warm face. you are more than used to his flirty remarks and his more-than-platonic habits, but somehow it feels more... genuine this time around.

“and gullible,” he suddenly adds, the out of blue comment making you turn back towards him with a raised eyebrow. you squeak out a sound of surprise when he unexpectedly, but gently, pushes your head downwards, his other hand now in your line of sight. you feel more confusion swirling in your head when you see him holding a small vial with some clear, greenish liquid inside of it.

“here’s the real antidote,” gojo casually cheers, and he does not have a single shame in the world. a whole minute seems to pass by until you connect the dots, and when you do, the first thing that pops up in your mind is the thought of absolute murder.

“are you serious?” you practically screech. “you made that whole kiss thing up?”

[frvnkcastles]

Your work with Frank is incredible! Could I please request one where you’ve been feeling lightheaded/dizzy all day but brushing it off until you’re making dinner and you can’t ignore it anymore and faint and Frank finds you there after coming in from taking out the garbage so you wake up on the couch, washcloth on your forehead and Frank worrying over you and won’t let you walk or lift a finger for awhile and if you get worse then he absolutely insists on taking you to urgent care or the er

THE ANTIDOTE TO EVERYTHING ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You’ve been dizzy all day but you try to deal with it until you finally faint, leaving Frank worried about you.

Warnings: Fainting, implied existing condition, fluff, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.3k

Author’s note: Thank you so so much for your sweet words, anon <3 Sorry for making you wait, I hope you like this!!

Realistically, you should have known the dizziness you had been dealing with all day wouldn’t end well, but you refused to give in. You told yourself it was no big deal, it was nothing new and surely you’d be able to tolerate it — and because it wasn’t that serious in your mind, you didn’t tell Frank, either. He was a worrier when it came to you and you didn’t want to stress him out over nothing, so you found it best to keep it to yourself.

Still, no matter how insistent you were that it would pass, the sway in your head was persistent as hell. As soon as you got up from the couch to go to the bathroom, you stumbled and staggered, and when you were washing your hands afterwards, your vision blurred. You had all the telltale signs of an incoming fainting spell, but you chose to ignore it, hoping it would will it into leaving you alone.

Besides, you had promised Frank to cook his favorite pasta dish and you couldn’t walk back on your word like that. So, despite your unsure footing, you planted yourself by the stove and began working on dinner, silently reassuring yourself that you could do it and everything would be okay.

”Did ya hear me, sweetheart?” Frank’s voice cut through your thoughts, and only then realizing he had joined you in the kitchen, you turned to face him. He was looking at you curiously, a hint of concern in his deep gaze, and his hand came to rest on your back. ”Asked if you needed any help with dinner”, he repeated himself when you just stared back at him, his eyes darting between the pot you were mindlessly stirring and your troubled expression.

”No, no, I’m all good. I got this”, you assured with a weak smile, and reluctantly, Frank nodded. ”You could take the trash out if you really want to be of help”, you added, and with a chuckle, he snuck past you and gathered the garbage bag from its hiding place.

”Makin’ me do all the chores you don’t wanna, huh?” he teased, but before you could defend yourself, he was reaching in to kiss your cheek. ”I got it, sweetheart. Be right back”, he declared before stomping out of the apartment with the trash in tow, earning a smile from you.

The happy look on your face was wiped away quickly, though. A wave of disorientation washed over you and your head started spinning, forcing you squeeze your eyes shut. You tried to regain your balance but nausea took over and you felt the undeniable urge to lay down. With panic rising in your chest, you moved to turn off the stove, figuring it would be wise to continue cooking later.

Before you could move to the bedroom or even the couch, you lost the fight between you and the nasty dizziness that had been bothering you all day, and you collapsed.

The last thing Frank expected to see when he came back inside was you unconscious on the floor. The sight made his heart sink and he quickly tossed his keys onto the counter before rushing to your side, kneeling down and pulling you into his arms. Fear surged in his heart, even though this wasn’t the first time you had passed out on him — nevertheless, it unsettled him just like the first time.

”Hey, hey, hey, sweetheart. Shit”, he rambled, swallowing hard as he picked you up from the floor effortlessly. He carried you to the couch and set you down as gently as he could, his usually steady hands trembling just a smidge as he wiped your hair away from your face and assessed the situation. You didn’t seem hurt, which was a relief to him, but he wasn’t going to breathe properly until you’d regain consciousness.

He got a washcloth and draped it over your forehead, and with a gentle caress on your cheek, he remained crouched by your side and tried to help you come to. His typically stoic expression faltered as he watched you lay there, and there was an uncomfortable weight on his chest. He was worried, but at the same time, he was charging a rant about your well-being, knowing for a fact that you had probably been feeling lightheaded all day.

Eventually, you blinked your eyes open, grimacing at the weird sensation in your body and the bright lights of the living room. It took a moment for your vision to focus, but when it did, you found Frank staring at you with alert eyes, his jaw clenching and his hands hovering over you.

”There you are, darlin’”, he cleared his throat, eyeing you up and down. ”How you feelin’? Found you passed out, baby”, he explained, and slowly remembering what had happened, you gave him a nod to acknowledge.

”I—I’m okay, I think. Lying down helps”, you reminded, and licking his lips, Frank wiped his thumb across your cheek tenderly.

”Yeah, I figured. Ain’t the first time we’ve been here, sweetheart”, he noted, and with a sheepish chuckle, you supposed he was right. Deciding to just shake it off, you tried to sit up from the couch, but Frank reacted immediately. With no real pressure, his hand pushed against your chest to stop you, and you gave him a puzzled look.

”I feel better, Frankie. I need to get back to dinner”, you said like it was the most obvious thing, and in an instant, Frank snorted, amused that you’d think he was letting you do anything.

”Nah, baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere. Gonna just take it easy for the rest of the day, hear me? I’mma take care of dinner, aight? Don’t worry ’bout a thing”, he announced firmly, unwilling to argue about it. His decision was final, as it often was when your health was in question.

You smiled softly, touched by his worrying. ”But—”, you began, but he cut you off promptly.

”Not hearin’ you out on this, sweetheart. Y’know layin’ down is the best for you right now. Yeah?” he stated, and unable to insist otherwise, you nodded to confirm. Sighing deeply, he took your hand in his own and gave it a soft squeeze. ”Why didn’t ya say somethin’? I know this didn’t just come outta nowhere. Shoulda never been up and cookin’ dinner in this state”, he continued, his tone just slightly scolding but you knew it came from a place of love.

You gave him a shy shrug. ”I thought I could tough it out. Didn’t want to worry you, either”, you explained, a little embarrassed that you had overestimated your ability to handle it so terribly.

Chuckling, Frank lifted your hand up to his mouth so he could kiss your knuckles. ”Darlin’, worryin’ ’bout you is my job. You don’t gotta feel bad ’bout it. Just lemme take care of you when you need it, yeah? It don’t make you any less tough if you need to lay down every now and then”, he pointed out, the tiniest of smiles on his lips.

”I guess that’s fair”, you admitted, ”I’ll tell you next time.”

Satisfied, Frank leaned in to kiss you, sweet and brief but enough to remind you that despite his stern tone, he loved you very much. ”Attagirl. Now, I’mma continue with dinner but if you need anythin’ at all, you shout, yeah? And if it doesn’t pass, I’m takin’ you to the ER”, he informed you after pulling away, making you smile. He took your fainting very seriously, as he did with every other aspect of your health, even when you tried to play it off as nothing serious.

”I love you”, you spoke sincerely, so grateful to have him looking out for you, and with adoration obvious in his eyes, he replied.

”Love you too, sweetheart.”

[ohmygodshesinsane]

Partners 🌧️⚗️🗒️

James is the last person Lily expects to visit when she's ill in the Hospital Wing, but the new Head Boy has more than one surprise for her. For Jily Week 2024, Day 2: Partners in Crime. Or - in this case - in being head students :') @sunshinemarauder @kay-elle-cee

read it on ao3 or under the cut!

Rain splattered the windows of the Hospital Wing, droplets glistening in the autumnal light of late afternoon, and Lily groaned as she hefted herself onto her elbows, the aniseed aftertaste of Madam Pomfrey’s last potion lingering on her tongue. Her head was foggy, her bones hurt right to their marrow, and Pomfrey herself had put her on strict bedrest, but some things couldn’t wait. It was just her luck to fall ill in only the third week of seventh year; right as the assignments were doled out and the prefects grew needy. She adjusted the pillow behind her back and reached for the wheeled table, pulling it up the bed towards her. Mary had promised to bring her notes from a few of their subjects, but there were several the two didn’t share; and there were three notes that had been left by prefects while she’d been asleep. She yawned, wishing she could have some kind of caffeine, but Madam Pomfrey insisted it interacted poorly with the antidotes she was taking. Of course. She stretched, arching her back, and decided to take a look at the prefects’ notes first. The first was from the mousey new Hufflepuff girl. She smoothed it out, ready to read.

“No.”

“Sorry?” Lily’s head bolted upright, forming a retort to whoever had arrived to boss her around – she was Head Girl, thanks, and her bout of illness had rather shortened her temper. She stopped the moment she saw who it was. “James.”

He leaned over her, black hair rumpled, still in his school robes – lessons would have not long finished, Lily supposed. His hazel eyes crinkled along with his clear smile, and his glasses slipped down his face as his gaze met hers.

“I said no,” he repeated easily, nodding towards the note. “Fairview, right? I headed her off already. She should’ve come to me in the first place, mind – I told them to, but no. Can’t have prefects with common sense – might break the system, I’m afraid.” And before she could protest, he flicked his wand with a muttered spell. The note caught flame. Lily gaped at him, shock and amusement battling within her.

“You shouldn’t do that,” she said, with no real weight. James shrugged and sat down gently on the bed, by her knees.

“She shouldn’t rabbit on so much.”

“Some prefects do have common sense,” Lily added, rubbing her throat and raising her eyebrows. James squinted one eye, tilting his head.

“Hmm,” he said slowly. “…Nah, I don’t think so. Nobody with common sense is doing work when they’re in the bloody Infirmary, are they?”

Lily huffed instead of replying properly, feeling strangely… touched, by James’s handling of it. By all rights, he was as in charge as she was, so he ought to be sharing the load – but when she’d discovered he’d be at her side this year, she’d not expected him to take it seriously. It was supposed to be just another feather in his cap – Quidditch Captain, Head Boy, Special Services to the School… A year ago, she wouldn’t have thought he’d ever bother to learn the name of a girl like Maisie Fairview.

“McGonagall wants an essay on mid-weight Conjuration by next Thursday, but I talked to her and she knows you’re in here, so she said you’ve got ‘til the Monday after,” James started absently, grabbing the pitcher of water. Without asking, he filled two glasses and offered her one.

“Thanks,” said Lily, surprised. With the first sip she relaxed; it was cool on her raw throat.

“I’ve got notes from Defence too – you can have them when you get out,” James said, wagging a finger at her, “not in here. Metaphysical properties of defensive spells. Proctor’s real into theory. S’pose they didn’t want another Auror sort, after last year. If I ever get my hands on Mulciber…”

“He’s not causing trouble?” Lily sat up straighter, frowning. James snorted.

“I wish, I’m itching to take points.” Lily’s twitching smile belied her attempted look of disapproval. “Nah, he’s just glowering up the back of the classroom. Better that way, though.” James ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been devastated to discover that some things are more important than getting an excuse to hex someone to Wallonia and back.”

“That sucks,” Lily said, grinning.

“Cost-benefit,” he said flippantly. “Anyways, I know Mary’s got you covered for Charms and Potions – thank Merlin for that, I hate Potions – ah. I’ve got Moony’s notes for Ancient Runes for you too. When you’re out of the Hospital Wing,” he added sternly. Lily folded her arms across her chest.

“You make me sound like a child wanting sweets before supper.”

“Because you’re acting like me,” James replied, and before Lily could protest, he went on, “being a complete idiot. Any work you do while you’re feeling crap will turn out crap, and the more you push yourself, the worse you’ll feel. What you need to do is rest.”

Lily took another mouthful of water, washing away the last of the potion. “I know,” she said, and she did, logically. “But –”

“You’re not on your own, you know,” James said. Lily faltered. He set his glass down on the tray table and inched a little closer, jaw squared. “You’re not missing any lessons, really – we’ve got everything you need for when you’re better. And I know I wasn’t a prefect or anything, but… Well… I can do it.” The most bizarre expression crossed his face, and it took Lily a moment to identify it – awkward? She hadn’t known James was capable of looking awkward, but there it was, albeit a very handsome, smooth rendition that most regular people would’ve killed for. “We’re partners,” he said softly. “If one of us is down for the count, then… well… I can handle it all, Evans.” He swept up the remaining messages from the prefects. “I just want you to feel better, all right?”

The air thickened. Lily was painfully aware of the pillow digging into her back, that she’d not showered since she’d been admitted yesterday morning, that she was in an unflattering, stripy pair of pink pyjamas, that there were two second-year boys making farting sounds with their armpits a few beds over, and that James’s side brushed her knee, the contact brief and burning and tingling from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.

She was lost for words. And she had no right to be: James was, essentially, just behaving the way any decent Head Boy ought to. Lily shifted, guilt slipping over her shoulders like a ragged old cloak, clasped too tight at the neck. James watched her, the rain outside reflected in his rectangular lenses. Genuine. Patient.

She had underestimated him. Her stomach prickled.

“Partners,” she echoed, and set her glass down too, using her free hand to extend her pinkie. “Thank you, James. I suppose I got pretty lucky.”

“You got lucky?” James grinned and shook his head. His smallest finger wrapped around hers, and the friendly touch made her shiver. His finger had a callous – from catching Quaffles, she reckoned. He never wore gloves. Ruined his technique, apparently. She didn’t know why she remembered him saying that. “So is this a promise, Evans? You’ll take it easy?”

“‘Evans’?” Lily said, sounding bolder than she felt, thinking that she could blame this in the future on her illness or the potion (but it wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t). “If we’re partners, James, we might need to be a bit more cordial than that.”

His face lit. It was magical. “Right you are. So, you’ll rest for me, Lily?” His voice was gentler on her name, tongue caressing the ‘l’s, each vowel a reverent breath.

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

Their knuckles brushed. Partners.

[stuckinapril]

how do you fall in love with yourself

unlearn the idea that confidence is conceit. i see this belief imposed on women especially, that if they’re very unapologetic about loving themselves it automatically means they’re narcissistic / think they’re better than everybody else. that’s not true at all. you can love yourself while also acknowledging you’re not inherently better than anyone else. you can love yourself while also being kind & supportive to others. it’s okay to be both of these things at once.

let go of the scarcity mindset. women (everyone really, but especially women) get pitted/compared against each other all the time. you see it w female celebrities in the media, but it’s very prevalent in real life as well. this is very much years of societal conditioning & both women & men partake in this behavior. ignore it. rest easy knowing that there can be multiple beautiful women, multiple smart women, multiple funny women in any environment at any given time. there is enough clout to go around; you don’t need to feel like if there’s another pretty/smart girl it means you no longer have the space to also be a pretty/smart girl. instead operate from an abundance mindset: always (alwaysss) be happy for other girls when they succeed, when they’re praised, when they’re loved, whatever. see them not as competition but as inspiration. envy is such a colossal waste of time bc nobody else’s accomplishments have any bearing on your own!!

get to know yourself more. i love the analogy of dating yourself bc it’s true. i went through a rough period of being around my ex 24/7 to the point i didn’t even know myself, and then i spent the post-breakup year hanging around everyone else constantly to numb my thoughts. now i’m spending more time alone than ever & i’m getting to know myself so much. learning about my taste in fashion, music, everything. and i’ve had so much more time to invest in hobbies & skills, which is very instrumental to building healthy self-esteem. ofc there’s a more balanced way to do this, but make sure you’re not running away from yourself!

what do you like outside of everybody’s opinion? don’t interpret this the wrong way—it’s completely fine to be inspired. every single person you know has copied someone else to an extent. but if you find yourself going too far, not trusting yourself to make the simplest decisions, just following trends blindly and nothing else, you’ve left the inspiration territory and started crossing into plagiarism. move from a place of self-direction and really think about what is naturally appealing to you. it doesn’t matter if it’s not popular or nobody else likes it. if you like it & if it makes you happy, that’s all you need.

practice self-love! i had to do this lol but it works wonders. i started intentionally telling myself that i trust my own taste, that i trust my own choices, that if i think something’s cool it’s good enough, talking to myself kindly etc etc. eventually all this stuff will become natural to you & you won’t find yourself having to expend so much energy into simply loving you for you. don’t give up even if it’s hard to believe at times.

don’t give a fuck. seriously. just don’t give a single flying fuck what someone else has to say. there will always be That One Person who tries to tear you down, belittles you, gaslights you etc etc and if you know in your heart you’re not doing anything wrong, just ignore and keep it pushing. you can’t be everyone’s favorite person (nor should you want to be). think of your favorite celebrity. anyone ever. they probably all got subjected to hate. now think of how they’re successful still & how it didn’t take anything away from them. there you go <3

if literally everyone on this planet starts hating you, loving yourself is still the antidote. to clarify, how others perceive us does hold weight. but if legit every single person i know started hating me, and i still loved myself, i’d probably still live a full life bc my perception is all that really matters in the end. i don’t need anyone else to be my #1 fan—i can do that myself just fine. it technically is actually your world & everyone else is just living in it. so enjoy that! stop giving a hard time to the one person who will always be w you through thick and thin (yourself). eat good food & watch good shows & read good books & just have fun. i love u

[glitteredrry]

GQ couples quiz

summary: Y/N quizzes Harry to test if he’s truly been paying attention during their relationship.

warnings: fluff

wc: 700+

“Greetings, I’m Y/N.”

“And my name’s Harry,” He cut in, eyeing the camera with a bright smile.

“Today we’re doing,” I said looking over to Harry to get our timing correct.

“The GQ couples quiz,” we said at the same time. We held up our hands in the air, silently cheering that we got it right.

“Are you ready?” I asked him pretending to be being more serious than I could ever possibly be around him.

“Hit me with all the questions, bunny.” He said confidently while adjusting himself in the seat.

Clearing my throat, I looked at the cards that GQ prepared for us trying to get ready to speak. “Mr. Styles, what is my full name?”

Harry pondered and teasingly hit his head as if he could not remember, “I think your name is Y/N Y/L/N. You weren’t given a middle name like us common folk.” I let out a laugh throwing the card in the air moving to the next one.

“What was the name of my first pet? For bonus points, what kind of animal was it?” I squinted my eyes at him because truthfully I believe that I’ve only mentioned it once. The time that I did mention it, we were at the beginning of our relationship.

“It was a cheeky name, I can’t think of the name. But I’m positive that it was a guinea pig.” My eyebrows shot up in surprise while I smiled. I can’t believe he remembered the animal.

“I’m shocked you remembered good job baby-”

“Sargent tater tot!” He interrupted excitingly remembering the silly name I picked out at six years old.

“GQ give him all the points you can, I told you that like the first month of our relationship. How did you remember?” He shrugged his shoulders confidently.

“I’ve just got better memory skills than your average person. Next question, bunny.” He said while giving me a small laugh.

“How did we first meet?”

“Easy. You went to a show of mine with a dear friend of mine. We got acquainted backstage, you fell madly in love with me. The rest is history.” I turned my head to the camera, giving it a moment of silence.

“That is how we met, Y/N.” He called out, breaking the silence.

“No, it’s not! You just don’t remember, but we met when you were performing at the Victoria Secret fashion show. I was an invited guest.”

“Oh, that doesn’t count. I didn’t even get the chance to speak to you! We only said hi.” He was right, that night he was the center of attention and we didn’t get a proper greeting. It still counted to me.

“I say let’s give him a half a point.”

“Deal.” He agreed to it, even though I could tell the competitive part of him wanted the full point.

“How many years have we’ve been together?”

“Three long, long, long,” he said looking at the camera as I laughed at his theatrics. “Loving years.” He ended up saying; causing everyone in the studio to awe. He shook his head nodding with a small smile, soaking in the attention his answer was getting him.

“Let’s go to the next question, you little attention seeker.” Harry bursted out in a cackle at me calling him out in-front of everyone.

We ran through the questions, making everyone in the room fawn over our relationship. Harry’s eyes never left mine, and him getting all the correct answers caused a bright blush to never leave my cheeks. Laughs went across the room as we told some antidotes that were behind each answer. The room calmed down as we approached the final question of the video.

“So far, you’ve had a winning streak,” I said to him, causing Harry to give himself a slight pat on the back.

“Are you ready for the final question, babe?”

“This is a lot of pressure, give me a moment.” He took a dramatic, drawn out deep breath as if he was meditating. “I’m ready.”

“What was the very first, and I do mean the first professional gig I had?” My career as an actor began before I could even count to three. My first acting gig was different from my first professional gig in the industry.

“You’ve been acting your whole life…but when you were six months old?” He said questioning the age. “Yes, six months you modeled for Gap?” He said still unsure of his answer.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a winner! Harry Styles, come on up and claim your prize.” Harry shot up celebrating as he walked over to my directors chair to plant a kiss on my lips.

“My man knows me well,” I said to the room, causing them to laugh. Harry began to hug me, not caring about the cameras being there.

“GQ, we are Harry and Y/N. Thanks for having us.”

[clareguilty]

Ghost/Soap/Reader | Sex Pollen, Breeding kink

This fic was written for Kinktober 2024! Let me know what you think <3

Ghost/Soap/F!Reader | Sex Pollen, Breeding kink, strength kink, dacryphilia Rating: Explicit | WARNINGS: EXTREMELY DUBIOUS CONSENT Word Count: ~3400

The last thing you expected when you answered the knock on your office door was the sight of two uniformed soldiers, both broad enough to fill the entire doorway each, expressions grave. You ushered them inside your small, cluttered office tucked away in the biochemistry wing of the university building. Being the head of the pharmacology department did not come with a sprawling mahogany desk and glorious window views. You were lucky to have a desk and a window at all.

Still, you were the best in your field, and that had granted you tenure and funding to continue your research as well as a small team of graduate students and postdocs to boss around as you pleased.

One of the soldiers introduced himself as Captain Price, the other a corporal under his command. You cleared off space on your desk as the corporal opened a locked case and pulled out a laptop.

“Anything you are about to see is highly classified information,” the captain warned you. “Our intel pertains to ongoing operations to stop a dangerous organized terrorist group.”

You nodded along, but your focus was on the footage being played on the laptop. The drone shots and shaky handheld cameras, clips of lab workers handling samples while suited head to toe in protective equipment. There was footage of soldiers experiencing a variety of symptoms: aggression, paralysis, psychosis.

The corporal opened a file for you to scroll through. Pages and pages of reports.

“Biochemical weapons,” you murmured to yourself. “Inhalants?”

“Gas,” the captain confirmed. “Your security clearance is still in the system from your field work on that operation in Andorra. Our people are using your research as the blueprint.”

You were the leading expert on biochemical weaponry, much of your research was centered around synthesizing field antidotes. It had been a few years since you were last out in the field, taking samples from warzones and the sites of attacks.

“You need me out there?” You asked. But you already knew the answer. They wouldn’t be here in your office otherwise.

“You’ll be working with our top tactical operations team. The best men we’ve got. Whatever they’re making in these labs, we need to put a stop to it, and then we need to figure out how they’re doing it.”

You looked at the footage again - civilians this time - and felt your stomach turn at the sight.

“When’s the earliest we can leave?” You asked, closing the laptop to hide the horrifying images.

-

The body armor on your last field operation had been simple: a bullet proof vest with a mask and helmet. You had worn your civilian clothes and brought along everything else yourself.

“Alright, Dove, arms up,” the special forces sergeant, Soap, grinned as he dropped a heavy vest over your head. You dutifully raised your arms so he could fasten the tangle of buckles until you were secured.

“Thanks,” you glanced down at the overwhelming amount of gear that was now covering your front.

“You’ve got your radio,” he tapped the top left pocket, “Compass, shears, three mags of extra ammunition, scopes, batteries, and torch.” You watched him point out each item. “On your belt here you’ve got your pistol, knife, and canteen.”

Soap put his own gear on much faster than it had taken to kit you out. He carried even more equipment, but he somehow made it look easier.

You had been staying at the temporary base with Captain Price’s 141 task force for days now. Without access to quality lab equipment, you were working tirelessly to find answers about the biochemical weaponry using whatever was available. As impressive as your makeshift setup was, it wasn’t near precise or thorough enough to save lives.

It felt a little ridiculous. A researcher surrounded by a bunch of special forces giants. They were welcoming and friendly - except for the terrifying lieutenant with the skull mask, but you knew you were out of your depth surrounded by cases full of rifles and grenades. Sleeping on a cot and eating rations cooked off a gas burner.

Captain Price had done whatever he could to make you more comfortable. The encampment was a few secured buildings and several large tents. And while you were accustomed to the conditions after your previous field research, they had afforded you as much privacy as possible. 

Underneath the teasing and jokes, Soap was kind and friendly. He’d nicknamed you their ‘peace dove’ on the first day, and you hadn’t been able to shake the moniker since.

Even Lieutenant Ghost had been considerate as you tried to keep up with the heavy military jargon and unfamiliar protocols. He slipped you candy bars that were definitely against regulations and sat with you after the countless briefings to explain all of the commands that had flown over your head rapid-fire. He was still scary.

The last military squadron you had worked alongside had mostly ignored you, frustrated with your inexperience and occasionally downright cruel. They hadn’t respected your expertise or your research despite your attempts to explain how vital it was to their safety.

There was none of that here.

After several days of monitoring intel and surveillance, Price had finally made the call to infiltrate the terrorist labs. The only way to stop these weapons would be to secure the materials themselves.

Soap and Ghost were assigned to clear out any hostiles, and your mission was to gather anything in the labs that would help to stop production of the weapons and synthesize antidotes.

It was difficult to keep up with them as they closed in on the lab. You had been instructed to hang back a ways while they engaged, but even then you were struggling to match their pace.

You had never known anyone who could make an assault rifle look small until these men. Like they were holding a toy. Despite their size, both the sergeant and the lieutenant were exceptionally fast even with all their gear.

As you approached the location of the terrorists’ labs, Ghost signaled for all of you to halt. He grabbed you by the shoulders and pressed you into a crouch inside a copse of brush where you would be able to keep cover.

“Stay here. We’ll engage the hostiles and bring you in as soon as the site is secure,” he ordered.

Both he and Soap immediately made to move in, but you managed to catch Soap by the hand. “Be careful,” you warned. “We have no clue what kind of shit they’re cooking up in there.”

“Don’t worry, Dove. We’ll do just fine,” Soap promised with a grin.

And then they were gone.

The silence that filled in after their retreating boot steps was excruciating. The sharp cracks of gunfire that rang out in short bursts were somehow even worse. You couldn’t radio in without risking the operation - the noise could give away their position - so you were left waiting until Ghost signaled the all clear. As the minutes dragged on since the last round of shots, you prayed you wouldn’t have to fall back on your contingency extraction: if you didn’t hear from either Soap or Ghost after two hours, you were to make your way to a designated pickup spot.

Your radio crackled.

“You there, Dovie?” Soap’s voice came through. He sounded uninjured.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” That was Ghost this time. “We’ve eliminated all hostiles. Give us ten more minutes to secure the site, and then I’ll send Soap to come get you.”

“Copy that.” An unbelievable amount of tension seemed to melt out of you at that, and you let out a heavy sigh.

Not even a minute later you heard a distant bang. Not gunfire. A small explosion.

“Lieutenant?” You immediately called over the radio. “What was that?”

“Fucking hell!” Soap shouted. “The lab was rigged!”

“Lieutenant?” You were already pushing to your feet, rushing out of the safety of your cover and towards the labs.

“We tripped something,” Ghost finally responded. “They had canisters set to burst if the lab was tampered with.”

“You mean you got dosed?” Your fingers were numb with fear as you fumbled with your radio. “Are you experiencing any symptoms? I’m on my way now!”

The radio was silent for a few moments, but you were sprinting as fast as you could toward the site. If you could get there quick enough, maybe you could find an antidote somewhere in the labs. They wouldn’t know what to look for, but if you could find out what was in those canisters, surely you could fix this.

“Wait, Dovie,” Soap’s voice was rough, breathy. “Stay where you are. Don’t come near here.”

“I’m the only chance you have at finding an antidote,” you shouted into the radio.

“Hold your position. Do not approach. That is an order,” Ghost snarled, but you were already at the entrance, flying through the path of carnage Soap and Ghost had left. The satellite images in the briefing had given you a rough idea of where you needed to go, and the trail of bodies confirmed you were on the right track.

As you came up on the entrance to the labs, someone tackled you into the wall, pinning you in place. You screamed, but a gloved hand covered your mouth.

“It’s just me,” Soap assured you. “But you shouldn’t have run in here without your weapon drawn. Shouldn’t have come in here at all.” He pulled his hand away so you could gulp down a breath.

“Whatever you were hit with, they might have an antidote. If I can get to it before it’s too late-“

Soap cut you off. “You’re worse than me at following orders.”

”Let me go.” You tried to squirm out of his hold.

Soap made a choked off sound in your ear. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s the gas. I swear. We didn’t know the lab was rigged.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“Jesus, Dove, you have to forgive me. Promise? I can’t fight it.”

“Whatever it is, you’ll be okay. Just let me go, Soap.”

He was pinning you in place with his entire body weight, panting against the back of your neck as he easily kept you still despite your attempts to break free.

Thankfully, you heard the sound of heavy boots approaching. That had to be Ghost.

He rounded the corner and you cried out. “Lieutenant! Please, sir!”

Ghost snarled when he saw you trapped beneath Soap. He crossed the room in three easy strides and ripped the sergeant off of you. Soap hit the floor with a groan, and you tried to back away.

Except the Ghost was closing in on you, knife drawn. He cornered you easily, and the fear had you freezing in place. You weren't a trained soldier. You weren't equipped to handle these kinds of situations.

You flinched as Ghost grabbed for you, squeezing your eyes shut and preparing for the worst, but there wasn't any pain - just the sound of tearing fabric and the sensation of your body armor falling away to a heap on the floor.

“Gotta get these off you,” he growled, crowding even closer against you. His voice wasn’t nearly as rough or as breathless as Soap’s. When you finally worked up the courage to open your eyes, Ghost was leant over you with his face in your neck taking deep inhales. Was he… smelling you?

They’d both been dosed. You had never seen symptoms like these before, but it wasn’t a typical toxin. Surely you could find an antidote if they just let you go.

And then Soap was back, pawing at the space between your bodies. “Please, Ghost,” he was begging, “feels like I’m about to die. Fuck. Need it so bad.”

Ghost pulled away from your neck, reached out to grab Soap by the jaw, holding him still. There was a moment of quiet save for both yours and Soap’s panicked breathing. “Alright, Johnny.” He finally assented. “You gotta go easy, you hear? Don’t wanna break her.”

You didn’t like the sound of that one bit, but struggling was absolutely useless when Ghost was holding a knife. You knew what he was capable of.

It was too quick for you to even register. Soap was fast. He snatched the knife from Ghost and cut your clothes away, taking you down to the ground with some sort of wrestling maneuver you were never going to escape from.

“I’m so sorry, Dove,” Soap was apologizing again. “Can’t fucking help it.”

He shoved his own gloves and gear away, fumbling to open his trousers before freeing his cock. He was achingly hard, and dripping. He was also fucking huge. His eyes fluttered shut in relief as he wrapped his hands around the length and gave a few lazy strokes, but you weren’t naive enough to believe that would be all it took.

“Please,” you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Don’t fuss,” Soap placed a finger over your lips to quiet you, then he shoved it inside your mouth. You weren’t sure if biting him would end well for you. He grabbed your legs by the knees, raising your hips until your pussy was on display for him. “That’s a good girl.” He spit on his fingertips and began rubbing at your entrance, as if that would be enough lube.

He pressed two fingers inside of you, but you were so terrified that it didn’t feel right at all. It hurt. You screamed, and suddenly Ghost was there.

“This is the only way to help,” he said, and you noticed he had a silver canister in his hands. “I promise this will make it easier.”

You didn’t have enough time to react before he crushed the canister with just his gloved hands. A deafening hiss drowned out the sounds of your own sobs and your vision went white as the contents of the canister filled the air. You couldn’t hold your breath at all, not when you were sobbing with gasps of pain. The gas settled over your skin, inside your mouth and nose. You instinctively swiped your tongue against your teeth and cheeks. It tasted powdery and sour.

“Give her a second, Johnny,” Ghost ordered.

You were almost glad they had cut your clothes away because your skin was suddenly too warm. Too clammy. Your mouth went from bitter and dry to watering with saliva in a matter of seconds. Every sensation felt sharper, and the pain disappeared. Soap was just as warm where you were pressed against him, and his fingers inside you were now drenched in slick wetness.

How were they even able to think like this? They’d been dealing with these symptoms for longer than you and somehow still had control of themselves. You had been exposed to the gas for less than a minute and all rational thought had left you.

“That’s a good girl,” Ghost’s voice reached you through the drunken haze and you whined. “Spread yourself nice and open on Johnny’s fingers.”

Oh. You were fucking your hips against Soaps’ hand. He was watching the sight with his pupils blown wide as he pressed a third finger inside of you. The stretch felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough.

“Please,” you begged. “More. Please.”

Soap curled his fingers inside you and you cried out. He held your hips still with his free hand so he could fuck you harder on his fingers. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he had you gushing over his wrist in a matter of seconds.

“Gonna fuck you now.” He settled between your thighs. All you could do was beg because his finger hadn’t been enough. “Gonna breed you full, alright, Dove?”

“Yes. Yes, please,” you panted.

You would never have been able to take his cock if Ghost hadn’t dosed you with the gas. Even after the rough fingerfucking you still cried out at the stretch. But it didn’t hurt this time. You loved the way he filled you, the sensation of him sinking deeper inside.

He was too impatient at this point. Had been holding himself back for too long. The moment his cock bottomed out inside you it was like his final thread of control snapped. You were long past him, having never once stood a chance after Ghost crushed that canister.

“Jesus, Dove, you’re so tight. Feel so good on my cock,” Soap was panting against your skin as he fucked you. You were much less coherent beneath him, just a stream of sobbing and begging. You understood what Soap had said earlier: you felt like you were going to die if they didn’t fuck you. If they didn’t ruin you on their cocks. 

“I’m already close.”

You were surprised Soap had lasted this long, considering how quickly you had come on his fingers. It was definitely the toxins in your system, but you needed him to claim you. Needed to be bred full. You must have begged for it, because Soap was soothing you as he picked up the pace.

“You’re okay. I’m gonna give you what you need. Just take it like a good girl, right Dovie?”

He forced his cock as deep as he could when he came, rocking against your hips to make sure it would take. You could feel it, so hot and sticky inside you, dripping out around his cock as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm.

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before a huge shadow filled your vision. Ghost. He shoved Soap aside, taking in the sight of you beneath him.

“Johnny made a mess of you didn’t he?” A gloved hand trailed over your tear stained cheeks, through the string of drool hanging from your lips. He forced your thighs apart to see Soap’s come dripping out of your used pussy. “Look at you, pretty girl,” he teased.

“Please,” you whined. The strange panic was taking hold of you again. You were scared what would happen if Ghost didn’t fuck you. “Please, sir. I need it.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Ghost swore under his breath. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to fight it off. Poor thing.”

He tossed his gloves aside, running warm, calloused hands over your sticky, sweaty skin. “I’m bigger than Johnny,” he warned. “But something tells me you’ll like that.”

All you could do was beg. How did Ghost have so much control? It was almost like he wasn’t affected at all.

He took mercy on you, dragging his cock against your pussy to slick the length of it before pressing inside. He was slower than Soap, more careful. And even under the effects of the gas, you needed it. Fuck. He was huge.

“You’re fucking noisy,” Ghost grumbled. And then there were two fingers pushing past your lips. You swirled your tongue around the digits to chase the salt and the sweat, and the relative quiet seemed to appease the lieutenant as he finally bottomed out inside you.

You had never been so full in your life, split open on the lieutenant’s cock like this. He groaned beneath the mask as he fucked you, rhythm faltering as you squeezed tight around his cock.

Even with his fingers in your mouth, you must have picked up your whining again because he leaned in to shush you. “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you up again. Breed you just like you need. We won’t let you go until you’re full of us.”

It should have sounded threatening, but all you could focus on was the promise that they would take care of you. That they would leave you dripping with their come.

The initial rush of the toxins had given way to a sort of timeless haze. You couldn’t focus on anything except the feeling of Ghost fucking you and his fingers in your mouth. It could have been hours. You just needed to be full.

“Here it comes, Little Dove,” Ghost warned you. “Better take every last drop.”

He pulled you so far onto his cock that a glance of pain managed to reach you in the haze, but it only left you craving more. You could feel his cock twitching inside you as he came, filling you even more than Soap had.

“Such a good girl.” He only pulled out after he was sure he had fucked his come into you as deep as possible. And when a few drops began to spill out, he swiped them up with the fingers he had just pulled from your mouth and forced them back inside your pussy again.

“Hey, LT,” Soap grinned where he was slowly stroking his cock. “Does this mean it’s my turn again?”

[the-sound-of-her-wings]

hi! can i please request a kaz brekker x reader fic based off of episode 5 of season 2 (despise your heart)? when kaz panics in the market reader finds him and takes him somehwere safe and gives him his gloves, and in that moment kaz kinda of realizes how he feels about the reader. and then the poison fog the reader hallucinates about kaz and him finally making physical contact and giving her love and she thinks it’s real until someone shoves the antidote in her mouth, once she regains consciousness she rushes over to help kaz and kaz sees her pulling him out of the water and the readers just sitting there holding his face and anything else you wanna add !

if it’s a little complicated i understand, thank you have a great day :))

You were always in plain sight

❀ Word Count: 2,145 ❀ CW: Panic Attack, Discussions of Trauma, Pining, Admissions ❀ A/N: Added a few more scenes than requested. I hope you enjoy!

He’s going to panic, you think to yourself. 

In fact, his body was already panicking, even if he wasn’t. Nina is too focused on the target's heart rate to notice, but Kaz’s heart rate has been slowly increasing ever since he took off the gloves.

You watch as the woman they were meeting with gets up, and Kaz goes to follow. Unfortunately, another woman immediately runs into him, spilling tea all over the front of him, and definitely accidentally touching him.

“Give me his gloves,” You whisper to Inej.

She hands them over silently. You put on your own set of gloves, a pair you keep on you in the event something like this happens. 

Nina places her hand on top of Kaz’ and you watch the life drain from his face. And then he’s running.

“You follow the target. I’ve got him.” You say. 

It doesn’t take you long to catch up to him, but by then he’s already completely disassociated and in complete panic. You take him by the arm, leading him to an empty alley, careful only to touch the clothed parts of his arm. Even with your hands in gloves, you are worried any kind of touch to his exposed hands will send him spiraling further. 

He collapses to the ground in an unceremonious heap. 

“You were supposed to follow her,” He says.

“Inej has it covered.” You reply, sitting down on the opposite side of the alley, a decent distance from him.  

There’s a moment of silence before you add, “Someone had to follow you. You can’t be by yourself when your…” And you don’t know how to finish the sentence. Traumatized? Panicking? Having a PTSD flashback to an event you refuse to discuss with anyone? “...like this.” 

It pains you to see him so deep in his own pain, so desperate to keep other people out of it. To keep you out of it. You place his gloves close to him, but far enough away that it doesn’t look like you’re trying to touch him.

He notices your gloves, “When did you-?”

“A while ago. There just in case-” And you cut yourself off with a sigh. In case this happened. “Do you want me to stay?”

Yes? Kaz thinks, but he’s still panicking too much to say anything. In fact, the thought sends him into even more of a panic, because he’s not ever had a thought like that before. 

“I’ll be on the other side of the alley. We’ll regroup once you’ve had a chance to calm down.” You say, leaving him to decompress.

XXXXX

“Nina wants an explanation,” Inej tells you as you watch over Kaz from a distance. He’s finally come out of the worst of it and is now trying to act like nothing happened. It’s a behavior that you simply have never gotten used to, despite years by his side. 

“Then tell her the truth.” You say.

“Which is?” Inej asks. She sometimes thinks you know more than she does, but that’s not really true. You both know exactly the same thing about Kaz- which is that Pekka Rollins killed his brother and that he absolutely cannot stand another person’s touch. 

“He had a panic attack.” You reply. “She’s not going to tell the others, is she?” 

“No. But I think Jesper should know. He hates it when we leave him out of the loop.” Inej states. 

“I think I’m going to try to talk to him this time. See what else is going on.” You say, watching as Kaz sits down, clearly deep in thought. 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” 

“I didn’t think you’d be happy about that idea.” You say, cleaning the dirt from under your nails.

“He will open up when he’s ready.” Inej tries to reassure you.

“We both know he’d never be that vulnerable.”

“Then why ask?” She asks.

So I know how to fix it. 

“Let’s just get this over with, shall we? The world isn’t going to save itself.” You state, heading towards Kaz and the rest of the group to figure out the plan. Maybe you’ll ask him once all of this over.

XXXXX

“We should talk about what happened in the market.” You say, sitting on his desk. 

“Must we?” Kaz replies, lowering the newspaper he had been reading to meet your gaze.

“Yes.”

He set the paper aside, making his way over to you. He towers over you in a way he’s never done before, closer than he’s ever been. “What do you want to know?” 

“I want to know what happened.” 

“You saw what happened,” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I want to know why, Kaz.” You respond. 

“Why?” He retorts. Is he flirting with you or just trying to get under your skin?

“I want to fix it. Or prevent it or- I don’t know! I just. I never want to see you like that again. I don’t want to see you suffer.” 

“It won’t happen again,” He reassures you, a gloved hand coming up to caress your face. You block it with the back of your forearm.

“Won’t it? Jesper told me what happened when you got thrown in that cart together. I watched as you tried not to panic while helping Inej clean her wounds. Do you think I can’t sense your heart rate when people get too close to you? That I don’t know exactly how your body reacts? Who hurt you so badly that you can’t even be physically near another person without wanting to vomit?” You ramble, letting out all of the questions and feelings you’ve been holding inside for all of these years.

“Pekka Rollins” He replies, the answer he gave you before. It’s always been the answer, and in some ways, it really is the truth. 

“Kaz… I just want you to let me in. You carry so much inside of you that you let nobody see. But I want to see it… I want to understand.” You say, and you want to reach out and hug him but you know he can’t receive that kind of affection. 

But then he does something you aren’t excepting. Slowly, he begins to remove his gloves. He sets them on the fireplace, one by one. One of his ungloved hands traces its way up the side of your neck and rests on your cheek. You gasp at his touch. 

And then you are staring into each other’s eyes, into each other’s souls. Like you’ve always seen each other- like you’ve always known. Kaz plays his cards close to his chest, but you don’t. Nina has teased you for it relentlessly.

When he kisses you, you can’t believe this is happening. It’s perfect. These are things he would only do in dreams. These are things he would only say in dreams. These are…

“This is a dream,” Kaz tells you, or rather, the Kaz of your imagination tells you as he ends the kiss.

“I know” You reply, opening your eyes.

You see Inej hunched over you and taste something disgusting in your mouth. 

“We were poisoned. Go to the door- Wylan will give you another antidote.” She says before leaving to go wake up Jesper.

You crawl your way to the door, still feeling the lingering effects of the poison. “Wylan. Antidote?” You croak.

Once you are given the butterfly, you make your way over to Kaz, the only person still under the effects of the poison. 

XXXXX

Kaz is confused. He wakes up, back on that mountain of bodies in the river, but his brother is alive.

“Jordie?” He asks, confused.

His brother stares at him, full of rage. Without a word, he begins to drown him. Just when Kaz has almost lost all of his oxygen, his brother pulls him back out from under the water.

“Who are you without your vengeance?” Jordie yells. 

“Kaz. Wake up” You say, one gloved hand cupping the side of his face, the other moving his jaw to try to force him to chew. He can’t hear you.

“What is the worth of life if you have no one left to fight for?” Jordie asks, before plunging him under the water again. 

“Kaz” You repeat, and he hears you this time. “You’re going to be alright” 

You come into focus in a water gaze, the remnants of the poison still giving a dreamlike quality. It takes him a few moments to realize that it’s no longer a hallucination and that both of your hands are on his face. Gloved hands.

You pull your hands away from his face as soon as you see him come out of it. 

“Sorry,” You say. 

You don’t have to apologize, he thinks. 

XXXXX

“Kaz, a word?” You say, wanting to get him alone. You’ve obtained the Neshyenyer and are getting ready to head to East Ravka. 

He nods in acknowledgment while the others in the room make no effort to leave.

“Alone.” You add, so the others get the picture. 

Everyone exchanges suspicious glances with one another except Kaz, who is only looking at you. Nina winks as she passes you on her way out of the room. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. 

You position yourself by the door, a good five feet away from him, in order to respect his boundaries. The boundaries that you’ve consistently had to cross recently to protect him.

“What do you need?” He asks. 

“Are you okay?” You ask. 

Of course he isn’t, but you want him to admit that. You suspect he’ll respond with something defensive, something clever, something like “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” or “Why does it matter?” or “We have a job to do”. For it to be like the dream. 

“Are you?” He responds.

“No. And I’m getting a little tired of pretending I am.” You answer honestly. The difference between you, and all the other crows, and hell, everyone else that you interact with, is that you aren’t emotionally repressed. You don’t hide it under a sense of revenge, don’t mask it with a face of no emotion, and don’t keep your true thoughts and feelings hidden under a veil of humor. He told you it was a weakness, once. 

“You’re still wearing the gloves.” He comments.

You glance down at your gloved hands and then back at him. “So I am.”

“You don’t have to do that for me.” You don’t have to do anything for me, He thinks. 

“I know.” You say, “I just don’t want to hurt you.” 

There is a long silence as you look at each other, not really sure what to say.

“I wanted you to stay,” He states, looking away from you. Almost as if he’s ashamed that he’s allowing himself to be this vulnerable. “When you asked me in the alley… I wanted you to stay.”

You feel your breath catch in your throat at the admission. Maybe the poison-induced hallucination wasn’t too farfetched after all. 

“I’ll stay.” You take a step towards him, still unsure of his boundaries. Still unsure how close or far you can get without causing him pain. 

“Will you tell me why?” You ask. I can’t help you through something when I don’t know why it causes you pain.

“I don’t know if I can,” It’s the first genuine answer you’ve gotten out of him in a long time. 

“When we were poisoned I- you were in my hallucination,” You admit, taking a few more steps closer to him.  

“What happened in your hallucination?” He asks. Throughout this, he’s made no effort to move from his seat at the table, but his heartbeat has become steadily faster, stronger. 

“I was angry at you- but you seemed to understand why. And you took your gloves off and touched me and- that’s how I knew it wasn’t real.” You reply. “What did you hallucinate?” You add, not wanting him to ruminate on your confession too long. 

“My brother was drowning me,” He states.

“I’m sorry,” You say, reflexively. 

“He asked me, ‘What is the worth of life if you have no one left to fight for?’ and then I saw you,” You’ve never seen him sheepish before- vulnerability doesn’t exactly suit him. 

“Oh,” You breathe. “So what now?” 

“We go to East Ravka.”

“Right,” You say, trying not to let the disappointment show in your voice. “Time to save the world. Again.” 

“We’re not saving it. We’re just getting paid.” Kaz responds.

You steel yourself, trying not to beat yourself up for thinking you were finally getting somewhere. That this would be anything more than words.

"After. We will discuss us after." He adds, quelling your doubt. "We still have a job to do."

You nod.

"I'm here if you need me." You say, turning to leave.

"I know," Kaz replies.

[hrryshoney]

you got the antidote

A/N: did somebody say continuation? pt. 1, hope u guys enjoy again. so happy that yall find this Man as appealing as me! ty to everyone who bounced ideas w me bc u probs made this part 10x better😋 and again, don’t like it then don’t read it. p.s. there’s a scene where reader is texting! Bold is matty. Italics is reader.

warnings: smut 18+, p in v unprotected sex, inappropriate actions in a doctors office, loss of virginity, size kink (so, reader being implied as smaller), corruption kink, use of Y/N, taboo topics/power imbalance (doctor/patient), fingering, oral (f receiving), light choking, light spanking, dom and sub dynamics, problematic age gap maybe (reader is 22/23, matty is 29/30), dirty talk, lots more lol etc..

It was 6:00 pm on a Wednesday, and you were getting ready for sleep. Well, not sleep exactly, but you were going to shower and get in bed. You had gotten back from class about an hour ago now, and after having a light dinner all you wanted to do was have your ‘everything shower’ and relax.

Then, your phone pinged with a text message. You walked over to your nightstand to see who it was, assuming it would be one of your friends, or even your partner on a project for one of your classes. You were confused, though, to see a text from an unknown number.

It was even more confusing that they were speaking like they knew you.

Unknown - Today 6:04 PM

Come by the office? Need to discuss some things.

You furrow your eyebrows, trying to remember who this could be. Or, if this text was even meant for you. You could ignore it, but something in your gut told you not to. You decided on sending a simple text back.

sorry, i think you’ve got the wrong number!

You clicked your phone off, throwing it on your bed and walking into your bathroom. You turned the water on, turning it to the hottest setting and letting the bathroom steam. Hearing your phone ping again from the other room, you sighed inwardly and hung your head. Stepping out of the bathroom, you went to check your phone again. This time, there were two messages.

Unknown

Don’t think so.

This is Y/N, correct?

You felt your heart drop to your stomach, gripping the phone in your hand tighter. Okay, who the fuck was this? And, why did they know your name? However dumb it sounded, you were going to ask them just that.

who is this?

and why do you know my name, lol

Even though this was the number one way to get yourself killed in a horror movie, you gave the stranger the benefit of the doubt. You saw the 3 dots appear on your screen, and decided to wait. When the text came through, you felt immediate relief.

Unknown

Sorry, Princess.

This is Matty.

You found yourself smiling at your phone, now. Of course, why wouldn’t it be Matty. But then it struck you that your gynecologist was not only texting you, but calling you princess. And you never gave out your number.

doctor healy lol!

how’d you get my number?

Files, and all that.

You giggled, and decided to put his name in your phone as ‘Doctor Healy’. Swiping back to your chat to respond.

ahh, not very professional

Why not stir the pot? You were bored, and it was a bleak and boring Wednesday. You had nothing better to be doing, really. You walked into the bathroom to shut the shower’s tap, it could wait. You showered yesterday, and you wanted to talk to Matty.

I think that’s the least unprofessional thing you have to worry about, Princess.

Your heartbeat sped up slightly. You jumped into your bed, rolling on your stomach and pulling the cold comforter around you. All the responses you could think of were poor, so you settled for a lame one in the end.

don’t call me thatt

“princess”

Unfortunately for you, Matty’s response was almost immediate.

Perhaps ‘brat’ is more fitting, then?

Are you coming to the office?

Embarrassment surged through you, and you dropped your phone to put your face in your hands. Despite the fact that he couldn’t see you, he was still having an effect on you. And you know you shouldn’t be having these thoughts about him.

yes, sure

what for?

Just wanna go over some of your stats.

Your eyes widened, and as if he could see you through the screen, Matty sent you another text for clarification.

Don’t worry, though. Everything’s alright.

okay, great!

It’s only me here, rest of the staff went home. Just park out front and come in, door’s open.

You hearted his message and decided to change your clothes before you went. You thought it was a little strange that Matty would have you come in after everyone had left, but you supposed he knew what he was doing.

Since you figured you would be coming home right after, you decided to forgo a bra. You threw an oversized sweatshirt on over your head. Changing your jeans out for leggings. You slipped on your sneakers and laced them up.

You took the elevator down from your apartment to the lobby, quickly walking to your car that was parked in the parking garage. Luckily for you, it was still daylight outside.

The drive was quiet and quick, you unplugged your phone from the aux and parked out front of the offices. When you walked to the glass double doors and pulled them open, there was no resistant, just as Matty had said.

The lights were on, but the office was barren. It was that same sterile smell and harsh, bright lights from the day of your first appointment. Goosebumps raised on your arms from the slight chill of the space, and you walked towards the open door of one of the examination rooms.

You could hear faint whistling and typing coming from it, confirming your suspicions that it was the one Matty resided in. You made your way to the doorframe, knocking twice on it to alert him of your presence.

Matty’s head immediately shot up from the computer screen, dark brown eyes meeting yours. “Y/N,” He called out once he saw you, a grin on his face. “Come here, then.” He rolled his chair out from under his desk, coming to a stop in the middle of the room.

You walked toward him hesitantly, still nervous and unfamiliar. But, with that smile on his face, how could you ever be nervous. He stood up once you got in front of him, the height difference now visible. You smiled back at him.

“So… what was it you wanted to go over? I know you said it wasn’t urgent, but I was a little jittery about it on the way.” You rambled, picking at the skin on your finger nails. His smile was beginning to look more and more like a smirk as you held his gaze apprehensively.

“Ah, yes. Just one thing I wanted to take a closer look at. Feels like I didn’t get the whole point of view before.” His hand came to rest gently on your shoulder, reassuringly stroking the spot with his thumb. “And, I thought it would be best if I saw you again privately, so I could spend as much time on you as needed.” His pupils almost got larger then, hand slipping down to cradle your elbow.

You felt your body heating up. Giggling, you blindly agreed with his reasoning. “Whatever you see fit, Doctor Healy. What do you need me to do?” You asked him honestly, bouncing back and forth on the balls of your feet. The way he was staring at you made you restless.

He cleared his throat, an attempt to snap himself out of the daze. His eyes dragged up and down your body noticeably, “Would you mind removing your jumper?” He asked, eyes glued to the piece of fabric.

You swallowed thickly, now flustered at the choice you had made earlier in your room. “I- Well, I don’t really have on, um, a bra underneath?” The statement came out as more of a question, and the way his mouth went slightly agape had you fumbling to explain yourself.

“Sorry! I’m sorry if that’s unprofessional, Doctor. I just- I hadn’t realized you would be examining me. I thought this was more of a paperwork thing.” You smiled awkwardly, hoping to ease the tension. His hands twitched by his side, one coming to pull slightly at the front of his trousers.

His chuckle was enough to make you shiver. “It’s nothing to apologize about, really. Just makes my job easier. Are you comfortable to remove it, still?” You whispered your agreement, pulling the sweatshirt over your head with both your hands. Once it was off, you laid it on the examination table, turning to face Matty again.

His gaze was unwavering on your chest, the distance between you two seeming even shorter now. “I can touch you?” Matty asked, breathless. But with your nod, he was shaking his head.

“Come on, Princess. Need your words. Should know this one by now.” His eyes almost gleamed.

“Right, sorry. Yes. You can touch me, Doctor.”

You can almost feel the heat radiating off his body before he touches you. And then, Matty’s hands immediately landed on your hips, tracing them up your body. He started to walk closer to the examination table, backing you up until your heels hit the foot of it. First, his hands were on your bare shoulders. Then, you were being abruptly spun around so your thighs hit the table.

His hand rested on your stomach, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Gonna start your appointment now, okay? Let me know if you need a break.” His fingertips never halted, now playing with one of your breasts. He tweaked your nipple and you let out a gasp.

“Sorry, Princess.�� You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you know he’s not sorry at all. He walks his hands up to your bare neck, letting his hand softly lay in place. You let out a squeak when his fingers suddenly squeeze either side of your neck.

Keeping his hand on your neck, the other comes to grab roughly at your hip. “Small, could do anything to you.” His fingernail trails the rest of your neck, going down the valley of your breasts. Suddenly, both his hands disappear from your body. Before you can whine and beg him for more, you feel his palm flatten on your back.

There’s a slight push, and he’s clearly giving you an out. You give into his strength, bending at the hip over the examination table. “Can I take off your pants?” Matty’s bent above you, leaving a trail of kisses down your bare spine.

Your nod is almost instant, only hindered by the way your cheek was pushed against the table. You can’t help pressing your thighs together. “Please, Doctor Healy.” You feel his hands fiddling with the waistband of your leggings.

“Gotta bend you over and inspect you.” He mumbles, and you don’t think you were meant to hear it. Matty is pulling the leggings down your thighs torturously slow. Once your pants pool at your ankles, you hear him take two steps back. He’s staring at your white panties, and you hear him click his tongue twice.

Matty presses the growing bulge in his trousers right on top of the growing mess in your panties. He leans down once again, a hand on the back of your neck as he whispers in your ear. “Gonna take a look at your little cunt now, okay baby?”

You moan out a noise that sounds somewhat like a yes, and it’s good enough for him. Matty pulls away, pressing a thumb atop the wet spot that has now stains your underwear. “Naughty girl.” He chuckles, and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

Suddenly, you hear a loud tearing sound. You feel the shock when you realize it was Matty ripping your panties from behind, the elastic snapping back on your skin. You gasp feeling the cold air hit your cunt, and the dull sound of your ripped underwear hitting the floor.

Matty runs his fingers down your body, outlining your pussy. “Spread yourself for me.” It’s a demand, and your throat runs dry at the tone of his voice. You bring your two hands back from your side to grab your inner thighs, spreading yourself open for Matty.

Matty’s middle finger prods at your hole, circling it. Your incessant moans making him laugh. “Quiet for me, checking to make sure everything’s okay.” The tip of Matty’s finger slips inside you, stretching you out. As soon as you moan, he’s pulling his finger out again. Teasing.

“Doctor- Matty. Please, please.”

His fingers travel up and down your slit, feeling you out. Your wetness is dripping on his fingers, and you can't help the whines escaping your mouth. Matty makes a noise in the back of his throat, pushing his middle finger into you again. "Feel good?" Matty's voice is a deeper tone than usual, chestnut colored eyes now an almost black.

You moan in confirmation and wiggle your hips, "Another please?" Feeling the constant stretch from his fingers is too good. His unoccupied hand comes to lay flat on your lower back. "Need it, Doctor." You'd beg if he asked, and if he didn't, too. A wet gasp tore through your throat when his thumb came to circle your clit from behind.

"Stay still and I'll make it better, okay? Whiny little girl." Matty says, tone all amusement. In your state, you don't really find it that funny. It's all okay though, when he slides his ring finger into you.

Now, both his fingers are moving in and out of your cunt at a steady pace. The friction is so good, and you can hear the wet sounds your pussy is making. You’d have half the mind to be embarrassed, but you don’t have the energy for your cheeks to start burning.

You can’t stop babbling for him, mostly nonsense. Matty can make out that most of it is you begging, though. He curls his fingers inside of you, plunging his fingers even deeper. “Such a good girl for me. So agreeable, just let me do anything? Yeah, you would. Bent over like a good pet and taking my fingers. Made you into a little slut, huh?”

“Oh my God.” You manage to choke out in between the moans that are shaking your body. You feel yourself get even wetter for him. “Doctor, please. Yes.” You’re shaking your head so hard that you know it’ll hurt later. Matty grabs a fistful of your hair to lift your head up slightly, fingers never stopping.

“Fucking like that? Like being called a slut? Can feel how you clench around me, s’pathetic.” Matty curls his fingers inside you, speeding up his pace even more. He takes his fingers out of you completely. Before you can protest, his hand comes down to slap your cunt. Three quick taps that have your mouth hanging open in silence, and then he slips his fingers back inside of you.

Matty’s hand lets go of your hair, slinking it around your front to rub tight circles on your clit. “Come on, princess. Cum for me, cum for your Doctor.” And when he pinches your clit, you’re gone. You squeeze your eyes shut so tight that you see white behind the lids. Loud moans are pouring out of your mouth and your torso is writing against the table.

His fingers never cease their movements, working you through your orgasm. Once you come down from it, you feel overstimulated. “Too much, Matty.” He slips his fingers out, and you turn your head in time to see him put his fingers in his mouth to taste you.

Matty licks his fingers and holds eye contact, smirking when he’s done. “You taste fucking sweet.” He takes a step closer, and your lips part. Matty slips his two fingers in your mouth, then. His grin goes even wider when you immediately close your lips around his fingers and suck.

“Good girl, don’t you taste good?” He’s chuckling when you nod your head around his fingers, agreeing. He pulls them out of your mouth with a pop, and he moves backwards to his original position.

“Need it right from the source.” He mumbles, and that’s when you see him sinking to his knees. You automatically shove your face down onto the table again, your muscles tense in anticipation. He trails his fingers down your thighs teasingly as he does.

“Been dying for this, you know that? Need to taste you.” His hands hook to the front of your legs, limiting your movement. Your upper body is still bent across the examination table.

He pries your legs apart even further, fingertips gripping hard on your thighs. “Please, Doctor. Do something.” Your whines are met with a chuckle, causing you to bury your cheek further down onto the cold surface. The noise you make is loud when you feel a firm hand come to slap your ass once.

“I’ll decide what you get. I know what’s best for you, Princess. Don’t fuckin’ forget it.” Without warning, he pushes his face into your cunt. His warm tongue licks a long stripe up your folds, and you scream out in pleasure. He moves his tongue down to your clit, flicking it in rhythm. His fingers trail to your hole for a minute again, but they’re gone as soon as they came.

You jolt in oversensitivity when Matty takes his mouth off you, just staring at your pussy. You try to close your legs, but the strain of his large hand against your thighs remind you that you can’t. He blows cold air onto your cunt, and then spits onto your hole.

You clench, and Matty laughs. “Doctor Healy, I-I can’t.” Instantly, his tongue is being shoved inside you. Licking the mess he’s made, and fucking his tongue in and out of you.

“You can and you will. Don’t be a brat.” He speaks against you, and the vibrations of his words just make you moan more. “Just a pleasure drunk whore, and you’re trying to deprive me of this?” His lips purse around your clit, sucking hard.

You’re shaking your head, and your hands raise behind you, tugging slightly at his hair. It’s a poor attempt to push his mouth away from your over sensitive nerves. One of his hands comes up to grab both your wrists, pinning them behind your back.

“Let me eat.” He pins you down even harder, and the feeling is sending you over the edge, and you clench your thighs the best you can.

“Matty.. Fuck. Doctor, please. I’m gonna cum, need to.” Your whole body tenses and you feel yourself teetering on the edge. The slightest thing could set you off, and Matty knows this.

His hand comes up to spank your ass again, and he speaks as he licks over your clit. “Let go, you’re so good. Letting me prep you, stretch you out for me.” And that’s what does you in for the second time of the night.

You cum in Matty’s mouth, and he is working you with his tongue the whole time. One of your hands is gripping the side of the table, trying to ground you in some sense. “Fuck! Thank you, thank you.” Senseless curses and strings of the same words are all you can get out of your mouth.

When you come down from the high, Matty is rubbing your back gently. “Good girl, baby. Did so good for me.” He says it so softly, you almost can’t believe this was the same man who made you cum twice in a row just a second ago.

You turn to prop yourself up on your back, feeling a bit tired from all that just took place. Matty’s smiling at you, but there’s a dusting of pink across his cheeks. His eyes practically black. You look down to his trousers, bulge straining against the zipper.

“Does that hurt, Doctor Healy? I can help you.” Your eyes are wide, and you want to return the favor. Last time he made you feel good, he didn’t get to cum either. It’s only fair.

“Don’t have to, could take care of myself if you’re too worn out. Know it would be your first… and I understand if you want to save that. Make it special.” He’s trying to be polite, be a gentleman. Though, it’s not very gentlemanly when his hand goes to palm himself. You shake your head.

“No, I want to. I wanna give myself to you. And, I can go again, you’re not that good.” Of course, that last bit was a lie. You roll your eyes teasingly, but Matty’s pupils dilate. He steps closer to the table.

“Not that good, baby? Don’t eat your words.” He grabs your wrist and places it on top of the tent in his pants, moving your hand up and down. “Wanna be inside you so bad.” Your head rolls back at his words, desperately needing to feel him in you.

Your fingers work at the zipper of his pants, and before you can look up to gain his consent he’s undoing them himself. He drops his trousers, stepping out of them. Your eyes are glued to his black Calvin’s. Matty is big, and you haven’t even see him yet. There’s spots of precum on his boxers, and you commend him for having the strength of not cumming in his pants.

You pull at the hem of his shirt. He’s got his lab coat on, and you need both items off. You feel so bare before him, he needs to catch up. He gets the message, and quickly takes his coat off. It falls to the floor with a clink.

Then, his button up underneath. He loosened his tie earlier, and quickly pulls it off his neck to discard of. Matty undoes the buttons of his shirts with such diligence, and your mind can’t help but wander to how experienced Doctor Healy really is.

When he shrugs his shirt off, you feel like drooling. The black ink covering his body is truly mouthwatering, and his abs aren’t helping the situation. You bring a hand to trace the tattoo on his hip, but when your eyes trail down to his boxers again, your mind is back on track.

Your hands find his waistband, looking up at him with wide eyes. He nods encouragingly, mouth hung open slightly. As you peel his boxers off, you fight the urge to squeeze your thighs together. This is all so erotic.

Matty’s cock springs free from his underwear, and he is big. His cock is pretty, long and thick. The tip now a slight red from being pressed against his zipper. You run your hand along him, pumping him twice. The moans that come out of his mouth are throaty.

He’s heavy in your hand, and all you want is for him to be inside you. Matty notices your dazed expression and can’t help but smirk. “How do you want me to take you?” His hands rub circles on the exposed skin of your hips.

You think for a moment, before ultimately deciding. “Think if I bent over again, it’d be the most comfortable.” Matty audibly moans at that and throws his head back. You giggle, getting into position.

Matty brings himself behind you, letting his dick run through your wetness. “Got you nice and ready for me, I could slip right in you.” He taps the tip of his cock against your folds. You moan at the weight of it.

Matty’s hard cock prods at your hole, and he’s moving himself through your arousal. The noises coming out of your mouth never cease, and neither does Matty’s dirty mouth. “Don’t know if I’ll fit inside you, baby.” And you can hear the faux pout in his voice without having to turn.

“No, please! Please, Doctor. I can take it.” Your chest is heaving, and your throat feels scratchy from the constant noises falling from your lips. Matty just laughs, clearly enjoying the state you’re in.

Your head feels fuzzy, and you try to clench your jaw to bring you back. Matty sees this and soothes a hand down your back. “Know you can. Always an eager whore for me, baby.”

Matty slides his cock in you, putting only the tip inside and then pulling out. You whine out, please and more being the only coherent words. You feel delirious, and his teases don’t make it better. You’ve been aching for him. “Matty, please.”

“I’ll give you what you need, don’t worry that pretty little head.” He hums, rubbing your back again. You feel him rub himself through your folds again, the head of his cock bumping against your clit. It has you arching your back unintentionally.

Then, just when you think you can feel the yearning in your spine, Matty is thrusting into you. It’s half his cock, and you feel stuffed full. You scream out, hearing his reassuring shushes behind the blood that’s rushed to your head.

“Good girl for me, so fucking tight. Made you cum twice and your cunts still gripping me like this? Should keep you in bed all fuckin’ day and train you.” He grunts out, jaw clenching and head rolling back. He taps your ass twice lightly, and you know what’s coming.

Matty thrusts into you again, and your whole body jolts forward. He stays put, but you can feel the bruising grip he’s got on your hips. You’ve never felt so full, so whole, and it’s almost all too much.

Matty’s finally, fully, inside you, and you feel like you can’t breathe. “Made for me, princess. Weren’t you? To just be my little plaything.” He’s still, waiting for your instruction on when to move. He’s so big, it’s all too much.

“You- oh my god, Doctor.” It’s the only reply you can get out, and you unintentionally clench around him. You feel a quick but sharp slap to your backside, making you moan even louder.

“Be a good girl for me, c’mon.” He takes a fistful of your hair, bringing your head up so he can place a kiss on your cheek. He turns your head even more, wrapping his other hand around your throat and kissing your lips.

“P-please move. You’re so big.” You’re in an arousal induced daze, feeling yourself dripping down your thighs. You squirm, hoping that will get him to move out of you. You don’t get very far though, because Matty is bringing his hand back to your hip and holding you in place.

As your back is to his chest, you turn far enough to see the smirk on his lips. He pulls out of you, and you let a gasp fall from your own. “Yeah? Big enough for you, Princess? Know nobody’s taken you before, gotta make it good for you.” Matty punctuates his question by thrusting back into you, hard. He grabs a handful of your tits, pinching your nipple.

You know it’s a rhetorical question, but you’re too drunk off him. Nonsensically nodding your head and babbling. He’s set a rhythm with his hips now, and it’s nothing like you felt before.

The room is filled with sounds of skin slapping together, and you can hear just how wet you are. Matty’s pace is unrelenting, his groans never ceasing. You think you could break the examination table.

His cock is moving in and out of you, every thrust of his hips brining you closer to the edge. You’re overstimulated from coming twice earlier, and you feel your orgasm building.

Matty is two steps ahead of you. When he feels your pussy clenching around him, he knows he’s right. “Gonna cum for me again, baby? So I can fill this slutty fucking pussy? Not an innocent little virgin anymore.” He coos, and goes even faster, bringing a hand under you to your clit and rubbing tight circles.

The pleasure is too much, and you feel your legs about to give out. The prospect of Matty coming inside you excited you too much, and you can’t stop thinking about it. “Please, Doctor Healy. Can I? I need it so bad.” You don’t know why you’re begging for your release, but you want him to grant it to you.

His fingers speed up, still pounding you into the table. “Perfect fucking cunt, so tight and warm f’me. My little fucktoy, right? Cum, let go.” And if his words didn’t do you in, when he moves to pinch your clit certainly has you.

You come with a scream, vision going white and your body turning hot. Matty’s hips are still moving, and he’s fucking you through your orgasm. When you come down from your high, the moans are still spilling out of your mouth.

Matty is moaning, to the point of whimpers. You feel his dick twitching inside of you, and you know he’s about to cum. “Please, Doctor. Cum inside me, I need it.”

Matty’s eyes roll back in his head at your words, and his jaw is agape. He thrusts inside you twice more, until he finally falters. “Fuck me. I’m coming. Gonna fill this cunt up, stuff you full.”

Matty spills inside of you, and you feel the warmth immediately. He slumps over, now bent on top of you in your position. He’s kissing down your spine, and rubbing your shoulders all whilst inside of you.

After a minute, he alerts you. “Gonna pull out, now. This might hurt a little. I’m sorry, Princess.” And it does, but you only wince a little.

As you lay there, you notice Matty looks mesmerized. Then you see he’s staring at his cum that’s now dripping out of you, down your thighs. When you catch him, a light blush dusts his cheeks and he’s quick to defend himself.

“What? I’m a simple man, s’hot.” You just giggle and nod, brushing him off. You turn to lie on your back on the table, propping your legs up. You knew you’d be sore tomorrow.

“Thank you, Matty. Was so good. I’m so happy that you were my first.” You say airily, with not much thought. You were just saying what you felt. And Matty’s grin was worth it.

“Always. Let me get a towel. Gonna clean you up and drive you home.”

[vinylfoxbooks]

July 11 - Essential | @jegulus-microfic | wc: 2121

Part 7 of Medium!James AU

Previous Part | First Part

“It’s essential that you only stir thrice clockwise after adding the moonstone.” Regulus says, watching James take down the instruction in a way that their brain can comprehend it, “Otherwise the moonstone won’t react and your entire potion will be useless. Nothing will happen.”

“Including an explosion.” James hums, writing down that note, “So if it doesn’t work, I probably messed up the moonstone stir. If it explodes…”

“Tough luck.” Regulus hums, “Now, after that, you should add your beetle eyes. Don’t stir afterwards, just place them evenly apart in the cauldron.” He waits until James stops writing, “After about five minutes, the potion should turn a deep purple colour and smell of peppermint. Then you’ve done it correctly.”

James writes down the result, nodding and humming once they’ve pulled their quill away, “Alright, I think I got it. Now I just have to… do it.”

“It’s alright.” Regulus shakes his head, “I don’t mind helping you, and I know that you struggle with it.” 

“Which is where you struggle.” Regulus notes, “Hopefully with your own notes, you’ll be able to do it better. I’ll test you on this and the venom antidote before you do it in class.”

“Thank you so much, Reggie.” James breathes, “You don’t understand how much this helps me. I just… I don’t know why I get things so mixed up.” 

James nods and is silent for a moment, just watching the ink on their book dry before closing it, “I’m going to be doing a spiritual banishing spell to hopefully help with the spirit that’s been harassing me.”

“Still the one from the other day?”

They nod, “He keeps showing up and won’t talk to me. Cleansing isn’t working so I’m hoping that making a proper banishing spell will help. Would you want me to teach you how to make one?”

“Is it similar to what we do in our classes?”

“Not really,” James shakes their head, “It’s much more simple and I think it has more effect on the afterlife and divinity than what we learn here. Hogwarts teaches practical magic, not spiritual magic.”

“It fascinates me that you practice two different magic systems.”

“That’s what happens when your family marries muggles that practice pagan witchcraft.” James winks, gathering their stuff and standing up, “You get two different magic systems and the ability to see ghosts.” 

Regulus smiles, putting his own things in his bag then standing up while slinging it over his shoulder, “Lead the way then.” James hums and starts taking Regulus up to the Gryffindor tower and into their dorm. 

There’s no one else in there when the two arrive and James makes quick work of walking over to the desk and conjuring some boxes. Opening the boxes, they reveal two of them are full of small vials filled with things with little initials on top, one is full of candles, and one has several small crystals, and the final one has empty vials. They also pull a leather-bound book out of somewhere and opens it with an impressive display of wandless magic, making it flick to a certain page. James smiles and turns to him, “Come on. Our first thing that we want to do is pick jars. A lot of this is the same as what we learn in our classes, but a bit more intimate and cautious, I guess.” 

Regulus hums and steps towards them, “Will any of these jars work?”

James gestures to the box, “Of course, but I always like to look in the box and pick the one that calls to me. There will be one or two that your eye keeps going back to, even if it looks the same as all the others, grab that one.” They hum and their eyes flit around the small glass vials for a while before they reach and grab one from one of the corners. Regulus does the same, though it takes him a lot longer for him to find one that ‘calls to him,’ which James explains is normal for someone not as attuned to doing things like that. 

James reaches forward and grabs an incense stick from the bowl of salt they’ve got sitting on their desk and Regulus takes the opportunity to ask, “Is that why Sirius complains about you taking too long to grab crystals when you do potions?”

“Mhm,” they light the incense stick with their wand before sticking it in the jar and waving it around, then doing it to the outside, “I believe that even the type of magic that you’re used to is more powerful if you’re more attuned to the ingredients you’re using. So picking what crystal sticks out to you or is calling to you. Take this,” they hand him the incense, “And do what I did, put it in the jar and get it smoky, then move the incense stick around it while thinking of positive things, keep your energy high and focus on the feeling of protection. You can say affirmations outloud or just think of it.” Regulus does so, thinking about how the feeling of James’ arm pressed against his own makes him feel warm inside, and the way that they’re smiling at him while he does this. 

“Alright, that’s good.” James smiles, taking the stick from him and brushing their fingers together, then ashing it in the salt again, “Now, we’re going to be doing basically the same thing for all the ingredients.” They start picking up some of the filled vials and pulling them out, bringing out two small spoons as well, “I’m going to tell you what each of this ingredient is doing for our spell and you’ll ask it to do their jobs as you put them in your vial. I’ll say it outloud so you can hear what it sounds like. Just follow my lead and think what I say, or you can say it out loud. We’ll do this with every ingredient.” 

“You keep calling it a spell, what do you mean? Aren’t spells verbal?”

James hums, their fingers brushing over the cork tops of the jars, “Yes and no. Witchcraft like this depends more on intuition and your energies, it relies more on the world than our magic does. What we’re making is called a spell jar.” They shrug, “It’s kind of hard to explain. But the witchcraft that you’re used to is more… physical, while this is more mental and spiritual.”

“I suppose that tracks.”

They hand one of the spoons to Regulus and open a jar, “This is cinnamon, it’s going to give us blessing and protection.” They take a spoonful of the cinnamon and pour it into their vial, telling the cinnamon what it’s to do. Regulus does the same, though he keeps his demand internal. James guides him through the rest of the ingredients--Comfrey for binding, juniper for defense, mugwort to avert danger, myrrh as an offering to the afterlife, sandalwood for clarity, black salt from their salt bowl for absorbing negative energy, blue lace agate to dispel fear, smoky quartz to ward off negativity, and amethyst for spiritual protection--at one point explaining that they only put their ingredients in alphabetically, not for any particular reason. 

“Now that everything is in there. We’re going to close the vial and…” They take out one of the half-burnt black candles from the candle box, lighting it with their wand, “Seal it with this wax. Black candles are used to banish and absorb negative energy.”

“It’s insane to me that some of these ingredients have such different uses between the magic I’m used to and this witchcraft.” Regulus hums, “I can only figure why you have such a hard time doing potions when you’ve been doing this for longer.” 

James nods, “It does get a bit… confusing. And I never need to stir these. Plus, they’re not strict. If I spill something or forget an ingredient or put too much of one, it doesn’t matter all that much. Potions is so demanding.” They take up the black candle and slowly drip the wax over the cork and some of the glass, ensuring that it’s sealed, telling the black candle what they want it to do for the spell. Then they hand it off to Regulus and he does the same thing. When he’s done, James takes the candle from him and blows it out, letting it sit out for a while before starting to clean up the vials and vanishing the boxes, “Now, you can put this anywhere near where you usually are or a common place for your energy. I’m going to be putting this on my nightstand near where I put my glasses at night. I also carry some in my bag.”

“Would my bookshelf work?”

After a couple seconds, James nods, “Yeah, that would actually be a really good spot for it. Your books hold a lot of your energy, and I imagine you spend a lot of time there. Oh! I wanted to give you something else!” They rush over to their nightstand and dig around it for a while before pulling out a ring. It’s of an amethyst wrapped in wire, “Here. I figured that your favourite way of wearing this would be in a ring. It’s blessed by my spirit guide and can help with anxiety, spiritual protection, and it’s a calming crystal. Which you probably know but…”

“Also, did you say spirit guide?”

Regulus takes the ring gingerly and puts it on, “It fits perfectly, thank you. How did you know?”

James flushes, “You left your ring here the other day when you were talking to Sirius so I wrapped it based on the size of the ring…”

“Yeah, it’s my grandpa.” They hum, “A spirit guide is something that’s watching over you, an ancestor, an angel, a deity, a ghost. They’re here to help you and guide you, after I learned that my grandpa was dead, I learned that he was my spirit guide. He breaks my jewelry to communicate with me.”

“He breaks your jewelry?”

They nod, gesturing to their earrings and necklaces tucked under their shirts, “The charm will break off, the lobster claw will stop working, the balls of my earrings will come undone. He messes with my earrings and I have to figure out why he wants to warn me or what he’s trying to say. That’s why I made you a ring, if it breaks there might be something wrong.”

“I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.”

James frowns, “I’m not weirding you out with all of this, am I?”

“No!” Regulus starts, maybe a bit loud, “No, sorry. It’s just that I'm getting a lot of information at once. Do you know if there are any books that I can look for to understand a bit better?”

The older laughs, “Of course you want to read about it. I’ll owl my mom and ask her for a list of the books that she taught me with and some recommendations for you. I’ll get back to you after that.” 

“Thank you, James.” Regulus offers them a soft smile, looking down at the ring, “For teaching me this, for trusting me to talk to me about your witchcraft and spirit-seeing abilities, for… for showing me a bit of your world.”

And because he’s looking down, he doesn’t see the way that James’ cheeks go bright red, “It’s… it’s no problem. Thank you for humoring me and not… not thinking that I’m looney.”

“Oh I still think you’re looney, just-” He clears his throat, “Just not over your beliefs.” He takes one of James’ hands with his own that has the gifted ring, finally looking up at them. 

James looks back, makes direct eye contact with him and their smile… it’s so gentle, soft… dare Regulus say loving.

“What are you two doing in here?” Sirius asks, pushing the door open and making both of them jump. He’s got a grin on his face like he knows exactly what he interrupted--what did he interrupt?--but he moves around the room like nothing was happening between the two.

“I was teaching Regulus a spell and giving him the ring I made him.” James explains, their smile making their way back onto their face--but is it different than the smile they gave Regulus or is he seeing things?--as they pull away from his body. 

Regulus leaves soon after that when Sirius kicks him out of the dorm because he wants ‘James time’ and James sends him an apologetic look. When he gets back to his dorm, he places the now-filled vial on his bookshelf next to his favourite books and leaves the ring on his bedside table.

Next Part