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ma1dita · 25 days

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🐥hey babe, thoughts on sirius x reader during hogwarts years? sirius is known for being a huge playboy and reader's a gryffindor and good friends with all the gryffindor girls n marauders. think (best) friends to lovers? he's going out with all these girls all the time searching for a connection and physical affection, but doesn't realize that he has feelings for her until he sees her with another guy (asked to hogsmeade, hanging out at a party, slug club, etc). love ya <33

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

sirius black x reader

a/n: for my lovely nini!! i hope you like it LOL sirius was always hard for me to write

wc: 1.5k

—

Sirius Black has everything he’s ever wanted in life.

It’s a bold statement to claim at 17, but after leaving his hellhole of a house, getting good ol’ Uncle Alphard’s inheritance of gold with enough to swim in at Gringotts if he so wishes, and having the best of mates he also has the privilege of calling his family— some may ask what’s next for him, and that’s what he’s trying to figure out too.

Everything will be easy from now on, he thinks— smoothing down his hair and spritzing some cologne while he gets ready to find another girl to get under so that his weekend will have some merit.

“Looking good, Pads,” James grins from his bed as he tosses a quaffle back and forth between him and Peter. The impish boy almost gets nailed in the face, huffing, “Who’s it this time? The girl from Ravenclaw? What’s her name again—Venetia? Violet?”

“Something like that…”

Sirius straightens out his shirt collar and flicks off a speck of imaginary lint from his shoulder—there’s physically nothing wrong with him, but something is still missing.

The door opens with a bang and you brush past him like a hurricane, the boys cheering at your arrival.

“Pretty girl, give us a twirl!” James hollers, and Remus gets up from his bed to spin you around as you giggle with your dress twirling in the wind.

“M’gonna be late because of you lot!” you grin, grabbing James’ bottle of Sleakeasy’s off his dresser and sidling up next to your best friend who’s silent as he stares at you through the mirror with amusement in his eyes.

“What?” you mumble, cheeks flushing as you lather the potion between your fingers to smooth it into your hair, “Can’t let you be the only pretty one around here, Pads.” He’s pulling on the fabric of your dress teasingly, inspecting you from head to toe, “Mhm, and who exactly are you going on a date with, lovie?”

“None of your business! Don’t want any of you boys meddling,” you say exasperatedly, elbowing him when he laughs, and Peter yells out in protest from the floor behind you. You squeeze Sirius’ shoulder, looking at the both of you in the mirror and noticing that his silvery eyes are still glued to you, cool as steel.

“Do I look bad? Borrowed it from Mary, but it doesn’t really fit me as well as it fits her, no?”

He notices the low cut of your dress and the way it frames your body just as well as he can draw it from memory—from the curve of your collarbones to the plush of your hip it certainly doesn’t leave much to his imagination, he’s just never seen you like this before. Sirius is blatantly ogling you now, and Remus throws a pillow at his head sending every perfectly combed piece of hair in different directions. He doesn’t even move to fix it, his breath growing quicker the more he takes you in.

“Lucky bloke. You’d look pretty even if you wore a sackcloth though,” he mumbles, eyes unseeing when you reach up to smooth his strands with a gentle smile. Sirius moves closer so you can reach, lips grazing against the powder blush you applied on your cheek— though if he got any closer he might’ve felt the heat reverberating from your skin. His finger plays with the tie at your bosom, almost in hesitation, or was it contemplation?

When does Sirius ever hesitate to do anything?

“This dress is just….hmmm…”

“What? Making me nervous… Is it too much?” You turn away to ask the other boys, who watch the two of you dance around each other like an old Muggle film Remus’ mum would send them to watch (Hope Lupin wants to teach these boys a thing or two about how to woo women in a respectful, romantic manner, mind you).

“A bit,” Sirius swallows, pulling at his shirt collar like it’s suddenly hard to breathe. Behind you, Peter grips at his hair almost comically while Remus throws his face into a book and sighs. James is watching through his fingers, eyes darting between the two of you two in anticipation. Groaning, you jab at his torso, taking out the rest of the air in his lungs (though he tries not to choke when he pulls you in and feels the smooth skin of your thighs as your dress rides up in the struggle).

“Shut up, you tosser! And I better not see any of you in Hogsmeade later trying to ruin my date—I actually have high hopes for this one…” you giggle, tossing your head against your best friends’ shoulder as you look at the varying faces of shock that surround you.

“Who said we were going to meddle?”

“Us?”

“We’re good boys, doll, we’d never!”

Sirius’ voice rings clearer over the rest of the Marauders as he whispers in your ear, “My girl’s looking forward to a date? Who would’ve thought….”

You spin in his arms and correct him, one arm wrapped around his neck and the other playing with a button on his shirt, “Your best girl…I’m allowed to have fun too, Pads!”

“That you are.”

He presses a kiss to your temple, inhaling the perfume you spritz on for special occasions and feeling like he’s lost you already even before you walk out the door. You send him off on dates all the time with an encouraging smile on your face. So why is it that after you leave the boys watch him flop into his bed and stare at the ceiling?

Sirius could’ve been there for hours for all he knows— ignoring the boys when they tell him they’re going to badger your date at Hosgmeade, unmoving when his date (who’s name turned out to be Vina) banged on his door for skipping out on her, he laid there, arms crossed and brooding. It’s like nothing made sense anymore.

You come tiptoeing into his room with your heels in hand a little before dinner, pulling back the curtains of his poster bed whispering, “Pads? You okay? What happened to your date?”

Sirius rolls over, looking at your wide eyes glinting in the candlelight, “What happened to yours?” he counters.

“It was okay. The boys sent a Bat-Bogey Hex to my date and snot landed in my butterbeer. He thought it was weird when I laughed.”

“M’sorry, lovie,” he sighs, grasping your hand over his duvet and playing with the rings on your fingers.

“S’okay! Don’t wanna be with someone without a sense of humor. Grown man that can’t take a prank. How awful is that?” you grin, before slapping his thigh, “Move over, I’m coming in.” There should be nothing special about the way you easily find your place against his body, molding against his form in both of your wrinkled dress clothes but Sirius can’t help nuzzling against the crown of your head, pressing a kiss to your scalp like it’s second nature.

“Why didn’t you go on your date? Heard Vina almost set the common room on fire.”

He doesn’t have an answer to that, nor the way he questions why his heart is beating faster when you draw stars along his spine.

“D’you at least have a good time today? Looking so pretty and all,” he whispers, pulling your chin up so you can look at each other eye to eye.

“Rem said you weren’t feeling well, so I had one foot out the door the entire time. Besides he was boring. Much rather spend time with you here,” you say like it’s nothing of the sort. Shiny lips press a pink kiss onto his nose. Your lipgloss smells like strawberries, leaving a mark on his aristocratic features.

“Doing nothing?”

“Mhm. Already having more fun, aren’t you?” you breathe out a laugh into his neck, unknowing of the way he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. He comes to the realization then that there’s no other place he’d rather be without you by his side. Nothing’s missing, or wrong with him—he has all he needs as long as you’re pressed against him like this, fingers in your hair and legs tangled under the bedspread.

“I didn’t want to go on my date because I wanted to be with you today,” he whispers into the air. You don’t freeze or jolt back like he expects you to, instead pursing your lips against his jaw.

“Yeah?”

“Is that okay?” he mutters, closing his eyes with the feeling that he’s said something awful, shoulders tensing like how they would when his mother would turn the corner.

“Why wouldn’t it be okay? Siri…” you sigh, grabbing his face to look at you and when he opens his eyes, you suddenly know.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Sirius says shakily, putting his hands over yours in case you’re an apparition or want to leave. There’s a space in his heart that’s in the shape of you, and you smile at him like he wasn’t in on the joke, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“S’okay. You have me.”

And he nods, knowing that’s all he needs.

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#sirius black x reader #sirius black fluff #marauders x reader #made by ma1dita ♥︎#harry potter x reader

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thecreelhouse · 3 months

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pin back in the grenade

Paring: Steve Harrington x AFAB reader

Word count: 6k+

CW/tags: best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, post s4, mentions of wounds/blood/etc., fluff, PiV unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving), somno if you squint (tbh not really but just to be safe gonna add that one), light dirty talk. title is from ‘liar’ by paramore. MDNI

request from this post (that was supposed to be a blurb and I am so sorry): 🩹 tending to each other's wounds, 🍯 friends to lovers, 🔥 slow burn, 🛏 only one bed

also combining this with a request I got back after s4 part 2 dropped (to that anon, I am REALLY sorry lmao) for post s4 comfort sex w/ Steve. anyway, hope y’all enjoy <3

“Do you get a new freckle every day?”

Steve’s brows crinkle together while he laughs wearily. “Huh?”

You’re cleaning the wound around his neck and can’t help noticing just how many freckles and moles he has across his body. Or, from what you can see, at least. He has his shirt off while you’re tending to his injuries from the Upside Down and Vecna’s destruction across Hawkins.

Over the last several years, Steve’s normally vacant house became a safe haven for disasters like these, also a place where the kids could be together to just hang out on the quiet, normal days. He never said it, but he loved hearing the kids laughing and yelling, sometimes having movie nights, or playing DnD; it was a welcomed sound compared to the painful quiet he had grown used to for the majority of his life.

Tonight, no inside jokes and endearing name calling echoed throughout the house. No fighting over which movie to play first, or what kind of pizza to order, or the shouting and cheering that usually came along with playing their favorite game. If anything, there were somber conversations, softly echoing through the house, with words and emotions no kid should have to be worried about. Sometimes there was crying, or complete silence, where the only thing Steve could hear was the faint, yet now permanent ringing in his ears he had gained over the last several years. Any which way a sound like these carried through the house, it broke his heart.

So, you try distracting him as the two of you clean one another’s wounds for yet another night. You keep things light where possible, but the both of you know it’s only a bandaid over a permanent emotional scar that is torn open time and time again. The physical wounds always heal, but the heartbreak you’ve all grown accustomed to is one that weighs so heavy on everyone’s hearts, and you can’t imagine it vanishing anytime soon.

“Yeah, I swear, it’s like you’re magically turning into a connect the dots picture, or something.” Steve smiles, laughing softly through his nose at your corny attempt to keep his mind off of the trauma.

“You think so? Maybe one of these days you should come up with a drawing out of ‘em.” Steve’s trying his hardest to keep things lighthearted, too, but sometimes it’s just easier to feel the pain instead of forcing any positivity.

“Jesus, this is gnarly.” You murmur, still amazed by the damage Steve took this time around as you’re softly swiping some kind of medicated ointment along the open wound. He hisses from the dull sting, but the substance begins to numb the ache and inflammation, bringing some sort of relief, if any at all. “Do you feel like a greasy slug when you use this stuff? Because I definitely feel like a greasy slug when I use it.”

Neither of you had figured out the best way to dress the wound around his neck, so Steve had been changing clean t-shirts like bandages every few hours. The others, at least, were relatively easy to clean and dress, but they seemed to be deeper; Steve probably needed stitches on some, but he refused to go to the hospital, insisting other people in town had worse injuries, and needed the medical attention more.

“I mean, I feel slimy… but not like a slug— Jesus, how much sleep did you get last night?” At first, you think he’s asking because of your silly remark, but then he’s cupping the side of your face, thumb gently rubbing along your cheekbone, getting a better look at the dark circles draped under your eyes. You push aside the butterflies in your stomach from his touch as you reach for his clean shirt, moving his arms out in front of you to roll the fabric down and over his arms and head. For a moment, you miss his touch, but it’s back on your face after he adjusts his shirt.

“Seriously, are you sleeping at all?” He asks softly, eyes filled with worry. Leave it to Steve to worry about everyone else before himself.

You shrug as you look away, not wanting to make a big fuss. “Last night was just rough up here,” You poke at your temple. “That’s all. I’m sure I’ll be able to sleep easily tonight with how tired I am.”

“Where’d you sleep last night?” He asks, knowing decent spots to sleep were limited now that the all of the kids were reunited again. Everyone, except Max who was at the hospital, and Lucas, who refused to leave her side. Still, there were only so many places to rest for the entire group, even in a roomy house like Steve’s.

“Um… well, some of the kids had the pullout couch, one took a recliner, Robin has the guest room, and Jonathan and Nancy have your parents’ room… so I slept on the floor in the living room.” You shrug, but you know that contributed to the lack of sleep, and extra aches in your back. How you ever easily slept on the floor as a kid during sleepovers, you’ll never understand.

Steve looks bothered by this, letting go of your face as you move to the faucet to wash your hands. “What? Why didn’t you say something? You could’ve had my bed.”

You scoff a laugh out, “Steve, you need a real bed after everything you’ve been through. I can handle the floor like a big kid.”

“Okay, well, tonight you can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the floor, I don’t mind. Or I can sleep downstairs somewhere if you want sp—”

You shake your head wildly. “Don’t- I don’t wanna be alone again.” You maneuver around Steve as he slides off the counter, and you take his spot to let him tend to your wounds next. Finally, you confess, “I fell asleep once, and it was just one giant nightmare. I stayed up after that. Didn’t want to see that shit again.”

Steve washes his hands, lips pursed and brows furrowed as he keeps quiet for a moment, thinking. The two of you always trusted one another, always came to one another whenever you needed, so why the hell were you isolating yourself now?

“Next time, tell me. Wake me up. I don’t care.” Steve’s tone is firm, but he’s not upset with you. Just upset that you’re retreating into yourself when he just wants to help.

He starts peeling off the butterfly bandages around the slit skimming vertically down your eye. It begins just above your eyebrow, running down to your brow bone, pausing across your eye before continuing just under your lash line, finishing off past your cheekbone. Instinctually, your eye begins to squint closed, but the action tugs at your skin, stinging along the edge of your wound.

“Steve, you haven’t had a good night’s sleep since high school. Why would I wake you up when you need the rest?” He starts cleaning the wound, sighing to pause himself, think carefully about what he wants to say next. You keep going. “I actually did come in last night, but you were sound asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake you up, not when you need the rest.”

“Close your eye for a second.” You do, appearing as if you’re failing an attempt at winking. Steve’s gently patting the cut with some sort of medical disinfectant on a cotton ball, heart aching little by little as you whimper in pain. You try keeping quiet, knowing your wounds are nothing compared to his. “You can cry you know. Or curse. Or yell. Or whatever. Stop trying to hide it.”

“Mine are like… paper cuts compared to yours.” He pats the wound dry with a new piece of cotton, sighing again. “What?”

“You don’t have to hide your pain from me. I’m not sure if you’re worried its a burden to anyone, or whatever, but you never hid from me before. What happened?” Steve begins to apply clean butterfly bandages along the deep slit in your skin. Every now and then, his eyes flicker to your lips, and you have to remind yourself your other face wound is a split in your lip. “Gotta get that next.”

“I can do it.”

“Nope, if you’re gonna nurse all of my wounds, it’s only fair if I do that for you in return.”

“Steve, you don’t have to—”

“No, but I want to. You’re my best friend, and you’ve been patching up my wounds since we were reckless little shits on the playground. You care about me, let me care about you.” His thumb gently presses on the untouched side of your bottom lip, holding it steady so he can begin fixing that one up, too. You’re too aware of how the pad of his thumb feels against your lip, wondering what it’d be like to wrap your lips around it and take him into your mouth.

“See, this is why I gotta hold your lip, you’re so twitchy.” Steve teases, unaware of why your bottom lip trembles every now and then when he’s so close. Is he really that clueless? “After this, you’re sleeping in my bed. I’ll carry you and lock you in my room if it means you’re gonna sleep like a normal person tonight.”

Your skin prickles and hair stands on end at his words. He really has no idea what he does to you with silly comments like these.

“Okay, but like…. What if I have to pee in the middle of the night?”

Steve stops his movements, snorting as his eyes close while a smile graces his features. With a shrug, he simply answers, “Hold it.”

Your jaw drops, feigning offense. “That’s fucked up, Steven.”

“So is sleeping on the floor instead of a bed.”

“You need it more than me!”

“Will you shut up for like, ten seconds? I’m almost done with this.” He’s stifling his own laughter, before murmuring, “Not gonna lie, you’re gonna look so badass when these are healed.”

“Pfffft. Maybe, but no one’s gonna be attracted to this mess.” You’re only joking, but Steve frowns as he applies petroleum jelly to your lips, generous on your cut.

“What? No fucking way. You’re still a babe.”

“Yeah, okay, Steve. No one’s gonna kiss me after this.” You chuckle, but notice the way his eyes flicker to your lips again, lingering longer than usual, then back to your eyes. His gaze is mesmerizing, with the warm brown color and hazel undertones, you can’t bring yourself to look away.

“I mean, I w—”

“Hey, St— oh,” Robin’s in the doorway of the bathroom, smirking at the two of you. “Am I interrupting something?” You lean back, fingers curled around the edge of the counter while Steve’s standing up straight, taking a step back from you as he clears his throat.

“N- no, we were just fixing each other up.” Steve nervously spits out, adding a shrug like everything’s cool.

“Right. Sure you were.” Robin teases. You want to shrink into yourself and completely disappear on the spot. “Where’s the box of movies you stole from work?”

You quirk a brow at her question, then look back at Steve. “You did what?”

“Shut it— I didn’t— I borrowed them. Robin, stop spreading rumors about me.”

“Fine. Sure. You “borrowed” them,” She flashes air quotes with her fingers, and you laugh. “Where are they? The kids are driving me up a wall trying to find them.”

Steve looks puzzled, chuckling. “They’re literally right next to the damn TV. Dustin should know that by now.”

She rolls her eyes, “Oh my god,” she turns out of the room yelling down the stairs, “Dustin! Get your shit together, man!” Before walking away, she glances at the two of you again with a smirk, “Have fun playing doctor, or whatever.”

“Leave.” Steve points out the door as Robin’s already leaving.

“Yeah, you showed her.” You tease Steve, trying to let go of what he was about to say before Robin barged in. You’re sliding off of the counter, and Steve playfully pushes your shoulders from behind, forcing you out of the bathroom.

“Alright, smart ass, let’s go.” He nudges you across the hall to his room, but you try turning away. Swiftly, he turns you back towards the door. “I wasn’t kidding, I’ll throw you over my shoulder if it means getting you to sleep in a bed.” He keeps a firm grip on your shoulders, pushing you through the doorway comically.

“Steve, if you wanted me in your bed so bad, all you have to do is ask nicely.” You’re not even trying to be coy or flirt, but it makes him choke on air. You spin around quickly, “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I— wrong pipe.” He rasps out, clearing his throat. You don’t buy it, realizing your lazy joke was the reason for his coughing fit. Still, you let it go, not wanting to embarrass him. Steve continues clearing his throat as he pulls some old blankets out of his closet, and some pillows from his bed to lay out on the floor.

“Stay in your bed, I’ll take the floor, it’s fine.” You’re trying one more time, hoping he’ll stop being so stubborn and sleep in his fucking bed.

“Why are you so damn stubborn?” He wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up off the floor slightly, carrying you a few feet over before dropping you into his bed.

“I was just thinking the same about you.” You murmur, arms crossed as you look at the bed behind you. You realize how big it is, and have an idea. “If you won’t let me sleep on the floor, just sleep next to me. There’s plenty of room for the both of us anyway.”

“Sleep— sl— next to you? Same bed?” Steve’s voice cracks, pulling giggles out of you.

“Yes, Steve. Same bed. Unless you’ve got another one hiding around here.” You’re surprised you’re even suggesting this when the idea makes you incredibly nervous, but you need sleep, and Steve needs sleep, and you’re out of any other ideas. “If you want it to yourself though, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No- I- stop it, I’m gonna sleep on the floor, and that’s final.” His hands are on his hips, his signature, go-to move when he’s scolding the kids, but you’ve qualified for its appearance tonight, too. You rise to your knees on the bed, hitting eye level with him while you mirror him, hands falling to your hips in the same pose he has.

Steve isn’t having it, and before you can start verbally teasing him, he’s pushing you back into bed. You catch yourself on your hands as you stumble back onto the pillows. “I’m gonna superglue you to the bed.”

“Now you’re just being a child.”

“Me? You were just—” Steve sighs, hand dragging over his face. “Just go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to!” Your bottom lip is wobbling as your bloodshot eyes tear up ever so slightly; you’re doing all you can to hold them back, reminding yourself logically this isn’t that serious, but your emotions show otherwise.

If anyone else in any normal circumstances yelled this, they’d be deemed childish. You, on the other hand, you’re yelling this for perfectly valid reasons. And Steve knows what you’re feeling all too well. One more time, his heart breaks for you, watching the panic spread across your sleep deprived face.

“I don’t want to sleep, I don’t want to watch you get hurt over and over again in my nightmares. I’ve seen that too many times in real life, it’s sickening watching you get beaten to death time and time again… and I just— fuck. Steve, just take the fucking bed. Please? I don’t want to sleep, and you need it more than me, I really don’t mind the fl—”

Steve sits next to you and pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly against him. That’s when the floodgates finally break. You grip onto his shirt, balling the fabric into your fists as you begin crying on his shoulder.

“M’not going anywhere. Promise. You’re safe, I’m safe, everyone’s okay.” You know that’s not completely truthful; Max is hanging on by a thread in the hospital, and Eddie’s gone. Steve knows this, but right now his concern is getting you to finally fall asleep. “C’mon, you’ll feel better if you lay down.” You expect Steve to gently nudge you to the pillows alone, but he keeps his hold on you, carefully laying the both of you down. “You sure you’re okay with me staying in bed?” You nod against his shoulder, wrapping yourself around him as if that’ll anchor him here for good.

“Don’t go,” You’re mumbling into the fabric of his shirt, wanting to tug yourself closer to him, hang onto him like a clingy koala, but you’re trying to stay mindful of his injuries.

“Not going anywhere.” Steve whispers, kissing the top of your head before lingering for a moment. “Not going anywhere without you.” Neither of you untangle from one another, and Steve’s embrace is starting to calm you down to steadier breathing and shaky hiccups instead of heavy crying filled with anxiety and dread. With your body desperate for rest and the security you feel with Steve, it doesn’t take long for sleep to pull you in. Steve’s snoring softly shortly after you fall asleep.

———

At some point in the night, the two of you untangle, rolling to opposite sides of the bed. Steve’s woken up by movement, strange shifting in the bed next to him, and an airy whimper, just loud enough for him to hear. He rubs his eyes, turning over and sees your figure, facing away from him, remembering that the two of you fell asleep in his bed.

Steve’s not sure what time it is, nor does he really care, especially not after hearing another soft noise float from your parted lips. Trying to adjust to the dark surroundings, despite the weak glow from a night light plugged in, he stares at you, or what he can see, at least, worried you’re having another nightmare. He moves closer and leans over you, prepared to wake you up and give comfort if you need, but you don’t look scared. If anything, you look pained, frustrated; Steve’s eyes scan down your figure as you move again, noticing the way your hips roll forward against your own hand.

Holy shit.

Frozen, he can’t take his gaze off of you. He needs to. He should roll back over and force himself back to sleep, pretend he never heard anything, never saw you—

“Steve…” You murmur, languidly grinding against the heel of your palm, face buried into the pillow as you writhe under his imaginary touch. His mind starts spiraling.

That’s why you got nervous when he held your lip, or when you mentioned how with a lip scar inevitable in the near future, no one would want to kiss you, and the way the two of you couldn’t take your eyes off of one another. How you looked so mortified when Robin walked in, forcing the two of you apart. He begins to realize how this isn’t new, this has been going on for awhile, and he can’t believe how oblivious he’s been.

The signs have always been in your lingering touches, when you lock eyes with him and share knowing glances no one else would understand, the way you’ve always tried protecting him, or tending to his now routinely scheduled injuries whenever he’s caught up in anything related to the Upside Down. It’s always been in the way you’d give up your comfort for him, how you’d never complain if he woke you up from nightmares, calling at three in the morning.

How it’s an unspoken pact between the two of you to share your fries with one another, or when one falls asleep early during movie nights, the other thoughtfully covers them in a blanket, letting them rest. How you always keep extra medical supplies in your car just for Steve’s clumsy ass. How he’s sneaking you video tapes for free whenever you visit him at work. How you insist on calling him exactly at midnight on his birthday.

You’d drop everything in an instant for Steve, and he’d do the same for you without hesitation. Whenever he tries to put your needs first, you’re quick to point out that someone needs to care about him, too.

Steve can’t believe how clueless he’s been, and out of all the times he’s figuring this out, it’s now, while you’re having a wet dream about him. Because of fucking course it would hit him now.

While his thoughts ran in a million different directions at once, he wasn’t aware of how hard he became, hearing your cute little noises, and how he’s still pressed right against you from behind. Does he let you continue? Does he wake you up? If he does, what’s his excuse? Lie and say it was a nightmare? Or tell you the truth, risking ruining something before it could ever begin, embarrassing you on the spot?

Without warning, you turn over, still asleep as your arms slip around his torso loosely, as if you’re still trying to be careful with his wounds while knocked out. One of your legs slot between his, and Steve has to bite back a groan at the pressure against his bulge. As if that alone wasn’t threatening to make him fall apart, your hips begin moving lazily again against his leg, and he can feel your sticky heat on his skin through your sleep shorts. Steve’s about to lose his fucking mind.

“Stevie, wanna make y’feel good…” You’re still asleep as you murmur this. Steve knew you talked in your sleep, but never like this. He can’t take it anymore. One hand ends up on the hip facing away from the bed, while the other is drawn to your neck, curling to the back to hold you gently as his fingers slide up into your hair.

“Wanna make you feel good too, angel.” He’s guiding you slowly along his thigh, tensing up underneath you; he’s not sure how to wake you up without startling you, and he doesn’t want the building desire to end so soon.

In time with his thoughts, you begin to stir, eyes fluttering open. You blink a couple times, then Steve nudges against your core again, and you keen, throwing your head back into his hand already waiting for you.

“Oh- oh, fuck, oh my god…” You’re growing aware of the situation, realizing your dream is becoming reality so seamlessly. You’re embarrassed, you want to hide away and apologize, but Steve rubs himself against the leg you have pressed against him, releasing a throaty groan; the embarrassment falls away, fast. “St- Steve?”

“Yeah?” He’s trying not to pant this soon, trying not to sound so breathy and needy already.

“M’sorry, I- I didn’t realize that I—”

Steve shushes you softly, bringing your face closer to his as he leans in, noses touching while you’re both making the sweetest noises together. “I can stop, if you want. I- I shouldn’t just assume you want this, maybe it was a silly dream—”

“No, it wasn’t… I really want you, Steve.” Your hands test the waters, sliding up his body, but only over his shirt, before holding his face; your gaze locks with his, and despite the dim glow in the room, you can see the lust ridden look he’s giving you while nodding wordlessly to give his consent. You lean in to kiss him, lips touching ever so slightly; you freeze as self doubt sets in, but he senses it, and kisses you back fully, mindful of your split lip.

It’s slow, almost too slow for you and how wound up you are from the dream, but you do your best to stay patient. Steve’s hand on your hip sneaks under your shirt, just enough that the tips of his fingers brush against your skin, just beneath the hem. The hand cradling the back of your head moves to your jaw, fingers splaying out to get a better hold on you when his lips part against yours. You make some kind of small noise, a muffled yelp that slips into Steve’s mouth when his tongue slips into yours. Distracted by the kiss, your hips stopped rolling, so Steve begins guiding you along his thigh again.

A moan shudders out of you as you pull back to catch your breath. Steve can’t take his eyes off of you as your eyes flutter shut, head falling back as another sweet moan leaves your lips, losing yourself in the pleasure from such a simple action.

You’re not sure when, but your hands made it to Steve’s back, fists bunched up with the fabric of his shirt, not wanting to touch any part of him that might hurt, but needing to grab something.

“Does th- this happen a lot?” He manages to ask, and in his head, he’s rolling his eyes at himself, because he wanted that to sound so much sexier than it did. You’re in a whole different world, though, already blissed out when barely anything has happened yet.

“Mhm,” You open your eyes as you answer, the burning desire low in your body growing hotter as the two of you make eye contact again. “Can I- can we— take this stupid thing off.”

Steve laughs, realizing maybe sexy isn’t what either of you need right now; being best friends already, it only makes sense that the only time the two of you can’t form coherent thoughts laced with lust would be when you’re pressed up against one another for the first time.

Pulling his hands back, he gestures to his shirt in the goofiest way, like he’s Vanna fucking White, showing off a purchased vowel. “You can’t take this seriously, can you?” You’re not mad, in fact, you’re laughing with him, and something about the two of you nervously laughing makes you more comfortable being intimate with your best friend.

“I’m just filling in the blanks for you, angel.” He’s smirking, but he’s also trying to stifle more laughter, so it just comes out as a product of a snicker and a snort.

“Oh, that was real cute,” You tease, reaching for his waist. “Words, words are hard.” You’re grumbling, tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt, carefully pulling it over his head.

“Yeah, don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard.”

Whatever smart-ass retort you had ready to roll off your tongue disappears at the sight of Steve, now shirtless. It’s nothing new to you, you’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times before, but in the moment, you’re hyper aware of how different this is. There’s no going back, but if you were being honest, there was no going back once you moaned his name in your sleep.

“What?” Steve asks, laughter dying down as he watches you reach out to his torso, tracing his scars, both old and the ones just beginning to form.

“You’re so… pretty.”

Steve blushes, a rosy red shade blooms across his face, to the tips of his ears. “I— shut up.”

You scoff, “I’m being honest!” He tugs at the bottom of your shirt, waiting for your permission, but your hands hold his back, shaking your head. Shyly, you state the obvious, “I don’t have a bra on.” Of fucking course you don’t, you never sleep in bras. Even Steve knows that, forever impressed with how you could just unhook that damn thing with one hand so casually and slip out of it, pulling it out of your shirt without ever stripping. It’d take everything in him to hold his jaw from dropping, when you just wanted out of a ridiculously uncomfortable bra.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve reassures softly, only to follow it up with, “I don’t either.”

“Alright, that’s it, I’m going back to sleep,” You tease, beginning to roll back over, but Steve grabs you quickly to roll you on top of him instead.

“Like hell you are,” He’s tugging at your shirt again, looking up at you with those sweet doe eyes, filled with wonder and curiosity over what his best friend looks like under everything. “Don’t feel pressured to say yes. We can st—”

You’re pulling your shirt off with a determined speed, like ripping off a bandaid, throwing it on the floor. “I do not look good with these bruises.”

Steve sits up, all humor and admiration draining from his features as he takes in all of the severe bruising you have from a few days ago. “Wh… how— why didn’t you show me? Or tell me? Fuck, I probably made some of them worse—”

“Hey, Steve, it’s okay. Seriously. I’m okay. These are nothing compared to what you ended up with.”

He shakes his head, ghosting his fingers over some of the worst bruises, blooming in the darkest shades of purple and blue he’s ever seen on someone, including himself, and that says a lot. Some are beginning to grow into that sickly yellow, even greenish color.

“What the hell do I have to do or say to convince you that you’re allowed to show me your pain too?” He’s not sure what he’s feeling, he just wishes you said something, wishes he knew so he could care for you properly.

“There’s not much you can do for bruises, Steve.” You shrug. “M’sorry, I just wanted to put you first. You’re always caring for everyone else before yourself, and I wish you’d let someone care for you, too. I want to give you the love and care you give everyone but yourself. These mean nothing to me, I just didn’t want you to be disappointed.”

Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Disappointed? From what? How you look with these? Because I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re still a babe with your face wounds, and that applies here too. You have… no fucking idea how badly I want to get my hands all over you, but I think we should stop. I don’t want to make those more painful than they already are.”

“Steve, I can handle it. I bruise like a peach, anyway.” You’re mentioning it casually, but enjoy the way he blushes at your words, clearly thinking of better reasons to be bruised. You smirk, “Feel free to tuck that fun fact away for another day.”

“I— I’ll bring that back up later.” He murmurs, trying to focus. “Anyway… are you sure?”

Rolling your eyes, you grab his hands, bringing them to your tits roughly. “Does this answer your question?”

Enthusiastically, Steve nods, fingers already toying with your nipples, breathing out, “Fuck yeah it does.” You start giggling until he latches onto one of the sensitive nubs, fingers softly pinching at the other every so often, in between grabbing a handful of you. He groans into your skin, thinking about how long he’s wanted to touch you like this, but it’s better than he imagined.

You’re arching your back as he switches sides, a thread of spit unraveling from his lips that’s still clinging to you; your eyes to roll back as you grind down onto his lap from just the sight alone, fingers twisting into his locks, tugging softly as he sucks, bites, soothes with his tongue, then repeats.

“I need…” You’re gasping, head falling back; Steve takes advantage of your exposed neck, kissing up your chest before leaving small, soft love bites up to your jawline.

“You need… what?” He kisses the corner of your mouth, but you can’t take it slow anymore, you need him now. You grab his face to kiss him, and it’s a little sloppy, a little clumsy, but he leans into it anyway. The two of you find a semi perfect rhythm, one that flows with the way you continue to grind onto him. You nip his bottom lip, tugging on it before letting go, and Steve moans into you.

“Need you, need you right now.” You’re frantically murmuring against his lips.

“We don’t have to rush.” He pulls back, searching your features for any sign that something is off, but all he sees are your lust blown pupils. “I mean, I’m not complaining, but—”

You kiss him quickly before pushing him back against the pillows, shimmying down his body, kissing his scars with care along the way, continuing down until you reach the waistband of his shorts.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Steve, quit being nice for, like, five minutes. Are you okay with this?”

With a gulp he nods, breathing heavily “I— I’m more than okay with this.”

“Thank fuck.” You tug his shorts down, almost drooling as you watch his length spring free, the rounded tip red with desire, leaking precum. “Steve, what the fuck.”

“You’re sending me so many mixed signals tonight, holy shit. Is that … is that good?”

You need to shut your mouth, mind too far in a cock-drunk daze to tease him with words. So, you run your tongue up the underside his cock, broadly, taking your time to reach the head, eyes on him the entire time. Steve yelps on contact, eyes screwing shut as his head falls against the pillow, but he pushes himself to look down at you, bucking against your tongue before you take him in completely.

“Jesus fucking Chri-iiiiiiiist,” He shudders out, hands tangling into your hair as you begin to bob up and down on him. “This… you… hhhhohmygod—”

You pull off with a pop that echoes off the walls, a sound Steve wishes he could’ve recorded to play when he gets off in the future, followed by the sight of you drooling onto his cock as it kicks with need.

“Tell me how you really feel, Steve,” You tease before taking him in again, but he holds your head in place, making you pout. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, no, fuck no. Your mouth feels so fucking good, angel, but I need… I…”

“Take your time, babe, it’s okay.” You tease, making Steve groan, both with annoyance and a craving for you to get mouthy, just not now.

“Fuck me, just need you to fuck me, please baby,” He’s babbling as he tugs you back up his body, hands on your hips as you hover above his cock. “Need to feel you, angel.”

You push your shorts down and throw them to the floor with your shirt. “Yeah?” You lightly rub your core against his cock, and he bucks with a desperate whine.

“Yes, please, please—”

Words become nonexistent as you sink down onto him slowly, walls slowly stretching around him, adjusting to his size.

“Knew you w- were big, but not like… not like this.” You’re panting, overwhelmed by the slight pain from taking him to the hilt, but the pleasure is greater, rendering your brain useless. Not a damn thing on your mind except Steve and how fucking good he feels so deep inside of you.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Steve gasps, grip digging into your hips roughly, knowing he’s just adding to your bruises, but he’ll apologize later. “You’re so— never felt a pussy tighter than yours, angel. M’god, don’t fucking move.”

You giggle, and he glares at you. “Don’t— do not do that either, just… fucking sit there for a second, okay? I’m really not trying to blow my load this early.” You’re doing your best to keep stoic, nodding as you fold your hands and wait patiently. “Oh my god, why are you like this?”

Shrugging, you begin to reply, “Why n— oh!” Steve pulls you down to him roughly, kissing you as he begins to move, fucking you slowly from below. He guides you by the hold on your hips, bouncing you on his cock, causing your eyes to roll back as he moves a hand to the back of your head. Holding you tightly against him, your forehead rests against his as the two of you gasp and pant lewdly onto each other’s lips. You’re riding him like no one else has, to the high fucking heavens, and he swears he’s gonna die a happy man right here, underneath you.

“How often have you dreamt about this?” You shamelessly ask, sitting up and leaning back as you roll your hips, grinding down so he hits your sweet spot just right. Steve’s speechless, flexing up into you, jaw slack as your walls flutter around him. “You’re so pussy-drunk right now, huh?”

A strained “Mhm,” leaves him; he’s not even going to hide how he’s putty in your hands, right now, and as long as you’ll have him. Finally, he rasps, “Fuck, wish we did this sooner.”

“We got all the time in the world to make up for it, Stevie.” Your legs twitch and shake, signaling you’re not far off from your high, but they’re also sore still from days ago, and right now, you’re just making them hurt more. Great cause, of course, but it doesn’t dull the pain, so you’re beginning to slow down. “Fuck, my legs hurt.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Steve pulls you back down arms wrapped around your back, one hand gripping around his other wrist, keeping you stable as he plants his feet against the bed, fucking up into you with everything he’s got. “It’s okay, angel, I’ve got ya’.” He grunts, hammering into you with so much force, you can’t help but moan loudly, almost screaming, but you bury your face into his shoulder, biting down to muffle your noises as you flutter around him. “Fuck, didn’t think you were so vocal.” At this point, you are screaming, but the noise barely leaves you as you keep your mouth on his skin.

Steve’s hips are starting to stutter, and his cock twitches, needy for release. “Good girl, don’t wanna wake up the whole house, right?” That’s the final push over the edge for you; grabbing Steve’s face, you kiss him deeply to keep quiet. The faint, metallic taste of blood works its way onto your tongue, and you realize your semi-treated split lip is split once again. You pull back, trying to keep as quiet as possible, frantically whispering, “I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you—” Following you into bliss, Steve pulls you back onto his lips as he cums, filling you shamelessly as you still squeeze him, milking him for all he’s got as he’s moaning into you.

When the two of you come down, covered in a sticky sheen of sweat and hearts ready to beat out of your chests, the shame hits fast as he pulls back enough to murmur, “Fuck. I didn’t even ask—”

“Birth control is a beautiful thing, babe.” You smile down at him, breathless. Steve sighs relief, thankful for whoever the fuck created the pill. His eyes fall to your lip before thumb swiping the mess away.

“Shit, m’sorry.”

“Worth it. So fucking worth it.” You giggle before he kisses you softly.

Pulling back, Steve reaches out to cup the side of your face, and you lean into his touch, giddy and exhausted all at once.

He’s admiring the view of you above him, softly replying to your confession, “I love you, too.”

The two of you are basking in the afterglow of one another, beaming and holding each other tight, unable to move just yet. Steve doesn’t mind taking a second to catch his breath, but then a loud bang against his bedroom door startles the both of you.

“About fucking time!” Robin shouts from the other side before walking away. Faintly you hear her huff, “Noisy assholes.” Steve locks eyes with you, both of you stunned and embarrassed before bursting into a fit of laughter together.

“Still worth it?” Steve teases, and you shrug playfully.

“Worth what, the impending shame fest they’re gonna put us through tomorrow morning?” You lean down to kiss him again before replying against his kiss-swollen lips, “Oh, fuck yeah.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #my fics #prompts #pin back in the grenade

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fanon-canon-idfk · 2 months

Note

WAIT POLY SKK SCENARIO THAT HAS BEEN ROTTING IN MY BRAIN FOR A WHILE…

GC WHERE MALE READER SENDS GOOFY AHH STUFF TO THE GC AND CHUUYA GETS SO ANNOYED

aftercare (if ur uncomfortable with the genre pls skip)

where like after masc reader is just too fkin tired to put le boxeres back on so he just sits there tired asf and chuuya is like dude we just finished out it back on 🧍 and ofc dazais gonna be goofy asf like “ooo look at mr show off over hereeeee”

ALSO ALSO…

M! READER THAT IS LIKE RLLY SLEEPY WHENEVER HE RECIEVES AFFECTION JUST LIKE A FEW KISSES AND HES GONE WITH THE WIND

imagine the use of “pretty boy” to m! reader ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

1ST SCENARIO

It was yet another day at work in the agency alongside your boyfriend, Dazai

Who was also texting your other boyfriend, Chuuya.

Meanwhile, you were focusing on finishing your work as your phone buzzed in sync with giggles from Dazai sitting in the desk beside you.

The moment you finished your paperwork you looked over to his grinning face with a lifted brow before pulling your phone out and reading your notifications:

Chu Chu 10:47 PM

What are you guys doing?

Osa 10:49 PM

Dying of boredom ��

Chu Chu 10:49

So you’re doing nothing

Osa 10:50

Chuuya expects so little of me! I’m working very hard!!

Chu Chu 10:50

Whatever I’m going back to work

Ah so that’s why Dazai was giggling.

Such a shame though, he seems so bored again now without anything to do. (bc he refuses to do his work)

So, as the good boyfriend you are, you picked up your phone and started typing.

You 10:52

Don’t be a bully Chu

Chu Chu 10:53

Tf you mean bully???

You 10:53

Poor Osamu is crying now!!!

Right on cue, you hear Dazai giggling again with his phone in his hands. He looks up at you with a giant grin, mischief already riddling his complexion.

Dazai wheels his chair right beside yours and whispers something in your ear, causing you to nod and chuckle to yourself.

Dazai put on a sad face, a pout with some puppy eyes, (Literally this emoji 🥺) and you took a photo of him with your phone.

You 10:55

[Sent an image]

Chu Chu 10:55

Oh stfu

Osa 10:55

ITS TRUE YOUVE BROKEN MY HEART SLUG 💔

Chu Chu 10:55

I’m going back to work.

You 10:56

CHUUYA APOLOGIZE

Osa 10:56

APOLOGIZE

Chu Chu 10:56

STFU IM WORKING

Osa 10:57

APOLOGIZE‼️

You 10:57

APOLOGIZE

Chu Chu 10:58

OH MY FUCKING GOD

He loves you guys <3

2ND SCENARIO

Chuuya and Dazai had gone off to shower together after the 3 of you had an… intimate moment. You however, decided to shower after them because you were fucking exhausted.

Having two guys in bed with you is a lotta work, who knew.

You stayed laying down on the mattress, an arm over your face as your eyes started growing heavy. Ultimately, you fell asleep for a short nap.

In, what for you felt like a few minutes, Chuuya and Dazai had exited the bathroom with a new set of outfits on.

The second they laid their eyes on you Chuuya spoke up, “Oh what the fuck? You can’t even just put on your boxers??”

You woke up at the sound of his voice, situating yourself to rest on your elbows lazily as you looked back at them both. “Yup. Too much work..” you sighed.

Dazai chuckled, “Oh no, please, do keep yourself as comfortable possible~.” He smirked, eyeing your bare body admiringly.

“Ok- you, go fuckin shower,” he ordered, pointing at you sternly before turning around to Dazai.

“And you- stop fucking looking! I’m not going another round just because you can’t relax!” He shoves his hands over Dazai’s eyes, pushing him and himself out of the bathroom doorway for you to go in.

You sighed tiredly, begrudgingly getting up and grabbing yourself some clothing from the dresser. You groggily walked into the bathroom, leaving Chuuya and Dazai alone.

As you closed the door behind you, Chuuya removed his hands from Dazai’s face, revealing a pouting expression.

“What?” Chuuya questioned,

Dazai just responded simply, “Cockblocker.”

3RD SCENARIO

You were all sitting on the couch watching a movie, yourself sitting in the middle. Dazai had his head resting on your shoulder while Chuuya was locking hands with you.

It was late at night so it was normal for you to be tired, but you didn’t feel like falling asleep in the slightest quite yet, the movie holding your attention a bit too well.

That was until you felt Dazai place a soft peck on your jawline, and you just instantly internally melted.

Your eyes started growing heavy like it was magic, you suddenly didn’t have the strength to even keep your head up! You laid your head atop of Dazai’s, his soft locks not doing you any favors.

You were at war with your eyelids, fighting to keep them open so you could keep watching the movie with your boyfriends.

Chuuya then looked over to you, noticing your battle to stay awake. “Are you falling asleep?” He chuckled, you replied stubbornly “No..”

He just laughed again, sliding his hand around your head and pulling you in to use his lap as a pillow. “It’s ok, pretty boy,” he smiled softly “just get your rest, we can always watch the movie again.”

Dazai watched the scene play out between you two, deciding to join in as he laid down as well. He rested his head onto your chest as he laid on top of you.

“Get your rest, handsome,” he teased, his words accompanied by another soft kiss, this time to your neck.

With that, you accepted your fate. Within just a few seconds, you were out like a light.

“Night sleeping beauty.” Chuuya whispered softly, lulling you further into sleep with a hand in your hair.

TYSM FOR GIVING ME THESE SCENARIOS THEY WERE SO CUTE ALSO HAPPY LATE VALENTINES DAY EVERYONE <33

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causereyna-artie · 16 days

Text

things that have happened in my school(s) as marauders/ships pt1:

wolfstar: these two dudes in my dorm were fucking for like a year but only realised they were gay cause one of them gave the other an annotated book.

Peter: this transfer student who was standing on the roof of my boarding school, and the cops and shit had come and were screaming at her to not jump in french and English, but after they got a translator turns out she was just looking for the restroom

Regulus: another transfer student who we had a language barrier with so no one could talk to him until the last day of term where he speaked perfect french and english

Pandora: this girl who also used to be in my dorm that would put a circle of salt around all our beds and when asked about it would shush us and say "they're always listening" (ngl I was pissssss scared of her)

Sirius (me): thought I was a slug the first time I got drunk

Emmeline: this girl the pandora girl used to fuck, who used to shout "in the name of the father, son, and THE HOLY SPIRIT" (we went to a convent boarding school) when she came

Barty: made the unsuspecting principal make the Tate sign and posted it on Instagram

Remus: this kid got a B after apparently studying for a week and threw a book at the science teacher

Evan: pulled up playing Kanye to Easter mass

jegulus: this couple that had sex on the lacrosse field

Marlene: my friend who cheated by tattooing answers on her arm

Lily: pushed her sister into the pool on the first day

Mary: carried a koi in her blouse

#wolfstar #james potter #jegulus #sirius black #james x regulus #marauders #remus x sirius #remus lupin #things my friends have done #things that have happened in my old school #france #india #england #school #salt

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cursedmoon-doll13 · 10 months

Text

If It Serves You.

(Headmaster!Severus Snape x Reader)

Cw: Non/Dubcon + Aftermath, Afab Reader, Dark-ish Snape, Unprotected Sex, Powerplay, Sex as Bargaining, Facefucking, Crying, Fingering, Creampie, Begging, Degradation (use of slut) and Praise, Reader calls Snape ‘Headmaster,’ Former Student Reader, Mentions of Torture/Child Abuse, Denial of Feelings.

READ WITH CAUTION

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: As a professor of Hogwarts, your past ambitions, your fragile hope and unrelenting diligence have all led to nothing. Now, you are powerless beneath the rising force of He Who Must Not Be Named and his army of Death Eaters. The only thing left you have to give is your pride; your weak and vulnerable body.

Or, you beg the new headmaster to show mercy to your students in exchange for sexual favours.

Dividers by @/saradika

Of course, there was no pressing need to check and recheck the potions’ storage. Certainly no need to catalogue it twice. You did almost it out of instinct, or force of habit. Yes, It’s healthy to maintain a routine, including routine inspections, just like- just like-

“Professor ___,” comes a gruff voice from behind. In your nervous state, you imagine it is a Carrow, and freeze in panic. “Why are you here?”

You whirl around. No. It’s Professor Slughorn.

“Oh,” you straighten your robes. “Horace. I was just taking inventory.”

“Were you? I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.” He says brusquely.

“Of course, of course you can.”

Your voice carries the same placid, appealing tone with which you’ve used to calm your pupils. You wince at the sound of it. Then, his expression loosens. Not immediately, but little by little, settling into the creases and wrinkles of stress and age. His walrus moustache droops into a familiar frown.

“I’m… I’m very sorry, ___,” he says. “Whenever I leave my storage unattended for too long, I take this terrible notion that some very bright and brilliant student is going to brew a polyjuice potion. Heh.”

His laughter rings rather hollow.

“Yes, those were my thoughts exactly,” you concede, heaving a sigh. “It would be so simple. Not for all of them, but some of our best could do it. And then they would make a reckless attempt at escaping, or even try to impersonate one of those Death…”

You stop yourself, and peer carefully into his face.

You’ve noticed how Horace has visibly deflated, how he has lost his colour over the past few months. How could you not? You would never accuse the Slug of being slovenly, but you’re well aware that beneath all the powder his eye-bags are as sunken as yours.

“It is unfortunate that one of my… One of our best…” It seems that he cannot finish his sentence. Nonetheless, you know who she is.

“It’s a very unfortunate thing,” Professor Slughorn mutters idly. “Very unfortunate…”

He’s fiddling with a ring on one liver-spotted finger. His lips purse periodically, as if a throb in his temple is threatening to burst.

“Horace, It’ll all be alright,” you try to reassure him, knowing you cannot guarantee this.

The only response you receive is a distant nod. He does not stop fussing over his ring. Then, he turns abruptly stony again:

“Well, then,” he says. “You’d best be on your way.”

He dismisses you as curtly as he would a student, but you don’t protest. You know that when you leave, he will pacify his anxiety with a sleeping draught.

As you exit the dungeon and traverse the silent halls, the early winter chill rattles straight through your bones. It seems that Hogwarts grows colder each passing day; colder and emptier. Even when teaching, your classroom is as quiet as death.

Alchemy has never been a popular elective, and now you are down to very few students. Some had also disappeared completely over the Summer, mostly those without Pureblood status or families to support them… You try not to ponder too deeply on it. For their sake - and perhaps also for your own - you keep it together.

Yes. You must stay stubborn and strong. Especially considering what you are about to do now.

You shiver in your thin robes outside of the Headmaster’s office. The griffin sentinel glares haughtily down at you, and for a second you fancy it alive, judging you guilty for some crime. Thinking this, You glance this way and that, wary of onlookers.

But all of the students are asleep; or at least, they should be. Most of your coworkers have also retired for the evening. You here stand alone.

You take a deep, shuddering breath.

“Sugar Quill.” Your voice echoes eerily.

The griffin does not budge. The new headmaster has changed the password, of course. You suspected as much, but it was still worth attempting.

“Amortentia,” you try next. No response.

You shift, acutely aware of how ridiculous you must appear; a Hogwarts professor stumped by a statue.

“Polyjuice. Veritaserum. Bezoar… Asphodel.”

Nothing.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” you huff, already spiked with tight, uneasy tension. “It was so much easier when Dumbledore…”

A low, heavy rumble breaks your train of thought as the spiral staircase emerges. You quickly mount it and climb upwards, boots clattering on the rising stone. It gives way to a large study lined with bookshelves.

You’ve made it into Dumbledore’s office.

Except it is no longer his. You must remind yourself of this fact often, and each time it stings, like a tiny pricking thorn ingrown into the heart. The study is far draughtier than you remember; devoid and bereft in the absence of Fawkes.

No, Albus is not here. Instead, what scowls over at you from behind the Headmaster’s desk is the unmistakable face of Severus Snape, and he does not appear pleased to see you.

“Kindly inform me why you are in my office.” His voice is slow and measured, but you can sense the venom lurking underneath.

“I don’t remember ever giving you the password,” he continues, alighting from his chair. “Or have you picked up that nasty eavesdropping habit from one of our pupils?”

He spat that last word as if it was a curse.

“No, Severus,” you say quickly. “I guessed it.”

Severus. Or Professor Snape. But now…

You think you catch him pale ever-so-slightly, or perhaps that is the dim lighting of the room, casting dark, creeping shadows across the floor. While there has never been a cordiality or warmth to your relationship, you recognise that you have been spared the worst of his barbed hostility.

Before now, that is; now, the distance between you is far too great.

“Did you now?” He sneers.

In response, you draw up, mindful not to appear challenging as you tip your chin.

“I’m here because I have a proposition for you,” you announce clearly. “I hoped you would be reasonable and hear me out.”

Snape’s eyes narrow icily and suddenly you are in his Potions class again, overseen with strict authority. One wrong move, and the concoction will spoil and poison you. His black robes billow as he approaches, expanding like the hood of a cobra.

“There is nothing you could possibly offer me,” he says, folding one shrouded arm over another. “And so there is nothing to discuss. Leave.”

Your nerves are strung so tight, you can’t help but object: “The Carrows are far too cruel in their methods! Too brutal. The students-”

“Are very fortunate to have been granted mercy by the Dark Lord,” Snape interrupts, and you swallow thickly. Of course, you could not have forgotten the festering dark mark that now itches underneath his robes, writhing and serpentine.

“But it isn’t enough,” you say, throat sandpaper dry. A rush of urgency floods your system. Now. It needs to be now, before you lose your courage.

(A gash on the cheek, a row of dark-purplish bruises and welts, a swollen eye, whippings and burns, scars from chains, all so frightened, but brave still.)

“If you agree to grant my students your protection,” your voice falters. “I will give… Myself to you.”

The silence that follows is agonising. His expression is indecipherable; taut and stiff. You’re beginning to think that maybe you weren’t transparent enough.

Your trembling hands drift towards your top buttons, and you start to undo them bit by bit.

“Stop,” Snape orders.

At this, you freeze. Your heart plummets starkly into your intestines. Oh. You hadn’t even considered that he would - or could - reject your offer. You fear you may have tipped the bubbling cauldron over and left it melting through the carpet. As you linger numbly, Snape’s tongue darts between his lips. Light flashes behind his stern black eyes.

Perhaps he’s considering it, perhaps…

“Come here,” he says sharply. You obey.

Shuddering in the winter chill, you watch the slow bob of his Adam’s apple, the twitch of his lids as his gaze dips steadily downward… Snape’s forefinger comes to brush the fabric from your shoulder, his knuckle grazing your collarbone, and your pulse quickens anew.

“I’ll do anything,” you plead. “Please, Severus.”

“You will refer to me as ‘Headmaster,’” he corrects.

“Headmaster…”

You suck in a shaky breath. Standing this close to him, you can make out the lilac rims of his sunken eyes and the worry lines on his forehead.

He’s tired… The thought springs to mind, unbidden.

The hand that tends to the rest of your buttons is not rough, but the coldness of his touch makes you flinch. Snape pulls down your outer robes in one swift motion, and you can’t help but gasp. Your nipples perk from the chill, skin prickled with goosebumps. Underwear was unnecessary, and though you knew that from the start, you are stripped so quickly it still leaves you cringing. He moves to fondle your breasts, and your breathing shallows. You stare desperately towards the floor, towards some old, faded tea stain.

“Fall on your knees, ___,” he tells you.

You kneel quickly in front of him, and he moves to cup the nape of your neck. You don’t need to be instructed; you do your best to steady your hands and unfasten the button over his crotch. You nudge out his dick, and see that he’s already half-hard.

Before he changes his mind, you spit into your palm and use it as lubricant as you get to work jerking him off. You can feel him watching you, silent and still. This situation is completely wrong, all wrong, but the awkwardness of it is almost juvenile.

“___,” he calls above you. You stiffen. You know that cautionary tone. “If you have enough cheek to wag your tongue at me, you can also use it for this.”

You nod faintly, licking your lips. Of course, you should have prepared for this, too, but you have barely even steeled your nerves. Hesitant, you lean forward and run your tongue along the shaft, tracing a vein. Your movements are practically mechanical; dispensing small, kitten licks over the tip, continuing to stroke him. This is now a kind of out-of-body experience for you, the sort of bizarre circumstance you can only encounter in a very strange dream.

But then, Snape decides your next course of action for you, clutching your jaw and muffling your whimpers as he sinks into your mouth.

A teardrop falls softly onto your chest, and it only occurs to you now that you’re crying. You gag out a sob as the tip of Snape’s cock hits the back of your throat, unable to prevent loose spit from dribbling down your chin. Above you, his breath hitches.

“Open your eyes,” he demands.

You didn’t know you had closed them; squeezed them tightly shut. You peek up at his pale face.

His pupils are blown wide, almost entirely black. Snape forbids you to keep eye-contact with a firm grip over your head, and you gag again as he rocks his hips. You clutch his thighs for purchase while he fucks your face, tears streaming down your cheeks. For distraction, you try to focus on him, and his pleasure-stricken expression lulls you in like hypnosis; the tightness of his lips, his dark brows slightly furrowed, the minute twitches in his jaw.

Snape’s thrusts begin to stutter, but he tightens his hold on you and forces you to take all of him. He drags in a sharp intake of breath, and warm, slightly bitter cum pools onto your tongue.

“Swallow it. All of it.”

You gasp for air, gulping it down hastily.

“You'll be getting used to the taste of me. Stand.”

Snape urges you up and steers you over to his table. Before you can blink, you’re whirled around and caged against his desk. The edge of it cuts harshly into your naked thighs, and you yelp. You can feel his long black hair sweep over your neck, a sensation that is almost ticklish. Snape yanks down your robes and they fall limply around your boots. Now, you are truly exposed, shivering and naked. The only source of warmth is his body heat pressed into your back, the starched, dark fabric of his clothing.

His cool hand dips around and feels down your stomach, and your breath hitches as Snape unexpectedly plunges several fingers into your pussy. You shock yourself with how slick you are, mortified at the way he tsks behind you:

“Little slut. Is this what you’ve always wanted?” Snape hisses into your ear, spreading the pads of his fingertips over your labia, teasing your clit.

“Yes!” You choke out.

“Yes, Headmaster,” he pinches your clit warningly and it feels like an electric shock.

“Yes, yes Headmast- ah…!”

He starts to rub in rough, merciless circles, and you immediately try to stifle a cry against your wrist. Snape rips it impatiently from you.

“Don’t even try to deny it. I can feel how wet you are.”

It’s surely not the truth. Surely, you tell yourself...

One long, deft forefinger slips into your slit and pumps steadily in and out. You let out a soft moan, unable to resist the quivering thrill that coils in your abdomen. You didn’t realise he would even try to prep you, and, against your will, you feel some of your fear dissipate.

“You think I didn’t notice, did you?” He scoffs. “Always so desperate for my attention, always clamouring for a better grade.”

Memories of your seventh year at Hogwarts resurface and spiral dizzily in your head. The newest, youngest professor, but strict and competent, and—

Dark, sweeping cloak, black hair, black eyes…

I even once wished I could brush away the strands…

Then he retracts his fingers, slowly, torturously, You hate how you yearn for his touch in its absence, how you crave the buzz to smother your discomfort.

Snape bends you cleanly over the polished table, your still damp breasts pressing into the hardwood. He traces a long, thin finger down your back, tracing languidly across your spine; you could almost believe his touch is tender. Almost. Instinctively, you try to turn your head to face him, but he denies you with a firm hand gripping the base of your neck. You whimper as he lathers cold precum on your thighs, positioning his straining dick over your entrance:

“…Or was it praise you were hoping for?” His voice is low and subdued. Snape’s breath fans over you, and for a moment you falter.

No, of course you don’t expect—

No, not from Professor Snape. Only your best was acceptable. To elicit a nod of approval, or even a commending glance, you couldn’t possibly hope—

“Headmaster, I— I only ever wanted you to…”

“Beg for it,” his tone sharpens again.

Snape slips the tip of his cock inside your folds. But then, he stops, and does not move. You are trapped between his desk and him, left pitiful and squirming.

“Headmaster,” you say weakly. “Please.”

“Please what, ___?”

You grit your teeth, still bristling at the indignity of it all. But you know that, whether he’s enjoying himself or not, Snape has the patience to wait this out.

“Please, fuck me!” you plead.

You gasp as he grips your thighs and slides himself in further with a lewd, wet sound. Your walls stretch around him as you adjust to his length. He groans softly and rolls his hips, sinking deeper into your cunt, until you’re utterly full of him.

Despite it all, it feels sinfully good, but his movements are so sluggish that you can’t help but whine pathetically into the wooden table.

“And what exactly is it that you’ve always wanted?”

What I always wanted, when I was in Potions class…

“For you to p-praise me, Headmaster.”

In an instant, you realise this is true. Deep down, you have always hoped for his sole attention… And now he’s invading that dark, primordial world in between, spurring on those secret and forbidden desires you should never have conceived.

Snape slowly pulls out, dragging every inch of his cock, and then snaps his hips back in, briefly hitting that sweet, sensitive spot that has you seeing stars.

“Please!” You add, letting out a shrill moan.

“And do you? Do you want this…?”

He mutters so quietly, it almost sounds like he’s begging you. Snape’s pace is set now, rocking powerfully into you as you fill the air with loud, desperate whimpers.

“I do!” You breathe, mind-numbingly uncertain.

But it doesn’t matter anymore if you want it or not; the sensation is so overbearing and so ruthless, unforgiving and unfair, just like him. You’re barely cognizant of the arms that curl around your naked waist, almost embracing you, until they provide cushioning against the sharp desk.

“You take me so well,” he murmurs, “So well.”

Your head spins, threatening to give up on you completely. You could never have predicted such a drastic change in demeanour. The way he’s treating you now is so different from his earlier cruelty; his affectionate caresses might be almost loving.

“So tight, so good for me…” He groans again, heavily, and the vibrations thrill up your spine as he spears you on his dick. “You’re doing perfectly.”

He kneads the soft flesh of your thighs, sighing blissfully. You can feel the spiking thrum of Snape’s heartbeat, the soft touch of his lips on your neck, kissing reverently over your shoulder blade. You wish you could just see the expression on his face, if you could only see Severus for one moment…

“Headmaster,” you pant, craning your head.

“Don’t,” he says hurriedly. “Don’t look at me.”

Snape doesn’t relent, forcing you firmly in place with a hard squeeze on your shoulder. There’s something thick and vulnerable in his voice that you can’t place, but all you can respond with is a needy cry as he speeds up, angling his thrusts just right. You can feel the familiar shock of pleasure coiling up in your belly now, surging from how deep he reaches.

“I’m the only one who can fuck you like this, aren’t I?” He snaps without warning, bursting with emotion again. You can only nod frantically in response.

“Yes, yes, Headmaster!” You sob, your eyes stinging with tears again.

Snape’s movements only grow stronger, his breathing heavier and huskier. His fingernails are digging small, half-moon indents into your skin. You don’t try to stifle the wanton moans that spill from your lips anymore, clawing for purchase at the wood.

“___… When you cum, you cum for me.”

Uncontrollably, you arch into the table. Your leg is cramping up from the exertion, muscles pulled taut, and you’re going to, you’re going to—

Your orgasm drowns the rest of your thoughts in static, white, hot bliss that smothers you. Snape shudders and moans as he buries himself to the hilt, pumping you full of his seed. His black cloak sweeps over you as he pulls out, far too soon, leaving you quivering and dripping with his cum.

The last, mangled strands of lucidity swim hazily in your mind. It takes a moment for you to remember why you were here at all.

After a few seconds, he releases you from the confines of his desk without a word. You bend down and hoist the ring of fabric up past your hips again, though your skin is sticky and damp. After a deep, shaky breath, you dare to glance at Snape.

There’s a thin sheet of sweat beading his forehead. Snape helps you pull your robes over your shoulders. He silently fastens your buttons back up again for you, and his touch is surprisingly gentle. You don’t rebuff him. Your hands are trembling enough as it is.

“Promise me that you’ll…” You halt.

Your vision is still blurry, but you could swear he looks like the old Severus. Not the figurehead or the professor, but the man. The Severus you once knew.

There’s a strange look in his eyes that you don’t understand, and maybe you never will.

You’re so dead tired you can barely drag your feet back to the staff’s living quarters. You wake Minerva— or, no, she is already occupied by her usual routine of restless pacing, tugging at her tartan dressing-gown. While she does interrogate you a bit crossly, you can tell she empathises with your ‘insomnia.’

After that you gulp down a contraceptive and stumble into bed, boneless and weary. You don’t cry at all, though you feel that you probably should.

In a way, you’re glad that Minerva doesn’t appear concerned or worried for you. That means she hasn’t found out. There was a persistent paranoia in the back of your mind that she had, that Minerva had seen or heard or sensed it somehow.

You wonder if she’d feel disgusted, or if she would simply pity you. Maybe that would be worse.

You flick your wand and flush out the light.

No. No one needs to know what you’ve done.

A month passes. The grip of winter releases its hold, and spring emerges in its wake, fresh and pure. It’s as if you can finally breathe again.

You hope that you do not imagine the way your student’s faces regain some semblance of warmth. You hope you do not imagine the unmarred bodies, mercifully free from wounds. You also hope that it is not their own schemes or plans that embolden them.

They should leave those matters to you.

Somehow, it feels like the nightmare is almost over. But not yet. Not yet. You still await your orders, and nurse lofty dreams of freedom in your heart.

When night falls, you strip off your underclothes and climb the spiral staircase once more. It is not excitement that tightens your chest, but it is also not dread. Perhaps something else you also do not understand, and cannot afford to think of now.

Headmaster Snape is standing by his desk. You realise he’s been waiting for you. He has that strange, mystifying look in his eyes again.

He offers you a hand.

“Come here,” he says.

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twilight-orchid · 3 months

Text

You’re Going To Be A Grand….Bat

Part 2 to Shower Suprise Part 3

Jason Todd x gn pregnant reader

Word count 2,303

You bounced your foot impatiently as you and Jason sat in the gynecologist’s purposefully pastel waiting room. He watched you look anxiously around the space, your eyes never settling on any one thing and your head perking to every name called. You fiddled with your new engagement ring, a small smile curling into his lip upon seeing it. He held your right hand gently but firmly, his thumb rubbing circles along your soft skin. He slipped his grip up to your wrist, pressing just enough to feel your wild heartbeat racing.

“Hey, look at me doll.” He said lowly. You turned to look at him, your eyes possessing a frantic look and your pretty face twisted with worry. He let go of your hand to cup your cheek.

“It’ll be alright sweetheart. Either way it goes, it’ll be alright. You just gotta stay calm and breathe. Can you breathe for me?” You closed your eyes as you sucked in a shuddered breath, but you matched his in and exhales. You were both 99% sure you were pregnant, that’s not what you were nervous about.

After further deliberation, the two of you had decided to keep the baby. Jason felt nervous, excited, stressed, ecstatic, and terrified all at the same time. He’d spent the whole night reading about the first trimester of pregnancy and researched what you would learn at the first ultrasound. That was why you were nervous.

They’d go over basics: how far along you are, the baby’s measurements, listen to the heartbeat, etc. However, they’d also possibly hear some bad news: Ectopic pregnancy, developmental screenings, and genetic abnormality screenings are what had you stressing. Of course, chances were everything would be fine, but the couple was still understandably scared.

“Y/l/n?” A nurse called from the now open door. Jason squeezed your hand then stood, grabbing your bag and following you into the office. She confirmed your identity, took your height and weight, then led you into a small room. She had you sit on the cold blue exam table, the paper crinkling as Jason helped you up. He took his place at the chair by your side then once again grabbed your hand. You met his eyes and smiled nervously.

“Alright, I understand we’re doing an ultrasound today?” You nodded and she smiled warmly at you both. She took your basic intake info then had you lay down.

“Now I’m just an exam tech. The doctor will be in after to go over the results with you, okay? Pull your shirt up to your bust and relax. Oh, and sorry in advance, this will be cold.” Once you were settled, she squeezed a clear gel onto your bare belly making you shudder.

“Jesus fuck. That is cold.” Jason chuckled. Between the two of you his kid would be cursing like a sailor by 2.

You both watched the technicians face closely for any sign of what she was seeing as she waved the wand along your belly, but she had an impeccable poker face. And, as someone raised to analyze facial expressions, he couldn’t get a read of her at all. Impressive.

The exam thankfully only took a few minutes and the technician quickly departed to share the results with the doctor. Jason grabbed a couple of the cheap, rough paper towels and brought them over. You thanked him with a smile then moved the wipe the slick gel off. He tossed them for you as soon as you were done.

“You okay doll?” He asked. You still looked beyond anxious.

“I’m fine, just impatient.”

“Well that much I know.” He teased. You smiled and smacked his arm. He pretended to be hurt as if Superman himself had slugged him.

“Oh shut up, drama queen.” You laughed. There was a knock at the door before he could respond.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Hall and I’ll be going over your results with you today. I can see you’re both waiting anxiously, so I’ll cut to the chase: you’re 8 weeks pregnant.” The two now confirmed new parents looked at each other with excitement growing on their faces. He squeezed your hand tight.

“Wait, I didn’t finish.” The doctor interjected. The two froze and looked at her nervously. Oh no, was something wrong? She didn’t look like it was bad news though. A slight smile tugged at her lips.

“You’re pregnant with twins.” She said simply. If there were a window in the room, Jason would swear there’d be a bird suspended in air outside the way the world froze around him. You were the first to break the stunned silence.

“No, I’m not.” You denied, disbelief painting your tone. The doctor laughed.

“Yes, you are.” She grabbed a folder from the counter behind her and handed you a black and gray photo. Not just any photo, your ultrasound. The shock of twins dissipated when you saw the two little blobs that would be your babies.

“They’re not very visually developed at this stage, but you can see their little heads right here and this is their body. They’re about the size of raspberries right now. They’re both perfectly healthy so far as we can tell, but you’ll need to come in monthly for checkups.” Neither responded, their eyes glued to the paper. It suddenly felt very real for Jason. Pregnant wasn’t just a word and parenthood wasn’t just an idea; he already had two kids on the way. He had a whirlwind of emotions raging inside of him.

Twins. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, he thought. He heard you sniffle then turned to you to see tears rolling down your cheeks. He was worried for a moment before you wiped them away with a small laugh.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.” The doctor smiled and handed you a tissue.

“It’s alright! Totally normal reaction with your hormones. Congratulations!” Jason still hadn’t said anything. He heard the conversation going on around him, but he felt like he was in a trance.

Twins. Two cribs, two car seats, two beds, twice the diapers, twice the bottles, twice the spit up, and more than likely half their sleep for the next couple years.

“I take it you’re the father?” She asked. Something clicked in his mind, and he looked up to meet your eyes. His head was still spinning, but he knew with you at his side everything would be okay. His signature handsome smile began growing on his face.

“Yeah, I’m the dad.”

You left with a copy of the ultrasound and your 12-week checkup scheduled. Once in the car the two of you made your way home.

“Jay, can I address the elephant in the room?” You asked from the passenger side.

“I mean sure but, we’re in the car and I don’t see an elephant anywhere.” He remarked making you scoff.

“Don’t be a smartass.” You chided. He let out a sigh.

“I know we need to tell Bruce.”

“He’s gonna find out sooner or later, and if you hide it for too long, he’s gonna get his feelings hurt.” Jason barked a laugh.

“You know we’re talking about Batman, right?”

“He’s human, Jay. And he’s really making an effort with you. If you don’t tell him he’s going to think you don’t trust him, it’ll hurt his feelings, and he’ll express it in anger or coldness. Better?” He groaned.

“Fine.” He made the turn that takes you out of the city to the suburbs where the manor was located.

“Wait we’re going right now?”

“I know he’s home right now, and most of my siblings aren’t. It’s as good a time as any.” You didn’t say anything, just squeezed the hand he had resting on your thigh.

“Can you let Al know we’re on the way?”

Telling Bruce had been an issue dancing around his mind just as much as the pregnancy itself. He didn’t expect B to be mad, but he doubted he’d be happy about it. For someone who had a small army of kids himself, B had been very clear about how dangerous it is to bring kids into their world. Plus, Jason had always said Bruce should give criminals the safe sex talks he and his siblings had received. The awkwardness alone would probably set them on a better path.

The manor was only about 20 minutes away from the hospital, so you reached your destination quickly. Which was good, because Jason’s nerves were already shot by the time you arrived. Alfred had clearly been waiting for you as the door was open by the time they were on the stairs.

“Master Todd, y/n, it’s good to see you both.” Alfred greeted with a smile.

“Hey, Al. Where’s B?” Alfred scoffed.

“Where he always is.” The trio made their way through the manor, into the study, then descended into the cave. Being that it was only 11am, they found Bruce in his street clothes typing away at the Bat-computer, his back to the entrance.

“Hey, B.” Jason greeted as they got closer. Bruce looked up from his research and turned to them with his universe famous resting bitch face.

“Jason, y/n.” He acknowledged with a nod before going back to his case. The couple looked anxiously at each other before Jason cleared his throat.

“B, we uh… we actually need to talk to you.” Jason said tentatively. That got Bruce’s attention.

He fully turned away from the computer to face you. You stared at the floor, your hands fiddling anxiously with the hem of your shirt. Jason looked him in the eye, but his face was controlled, intentional. He gripped a folder in his hand with white knuckled strength.

You were both nervous as hell.

He noticed the new ring on your finger, but you weren’t here to announce your engagement. This was something else. Something important that affected you both, that clearly involved Bruce, and that you were anxious about.

“Excuse me.” Alfred said with a small bow, dismissing himself.

“Actually Al, you should stay.” Jason added. Bruce and Alfred both raised a brow to that. There were several potential options mulling around Bruce’s mind, but one stood out as a prominent possibility.

“Don’t tell me you’re pregnant.” He said, still painfully deadpan. You both froze, head snapping up like deer in headlights. Shit, you were pregnant.

“Are you serious?” He asked, his voice sterner than he meant it to be but he didn’t bother correcting himself. Jason approached and handed him the folder, then took a step back to your side, placing a reassuring hand on your hip. Bruce flipped it open with Alfred peering over his shoulder.

Bruce had never been there for the pregnancy of any of his kids and had never really been around pregnant people for any extended periods of time, but he knew what a sonogram looked like. And he also knew there weren’t typically two fetuses in the picture either.

“My god, you’re having twins?” Alfred exclaimed. The couple both nodded silently. Bruce sighed.

“After all the talks I had with you boys…” He muttered.

“We used a condom!” Jason defended.

“And birth control.” You added. Bruce groaned and ran a hand over his face.

He looked at Jason, his son. His son that had been through hell and seen the world at its worst. His son who died and was brought back angry and crazed. Bruce’s greatest failure. His son who went on a killing spree, following his own vengeful sense of justice. His son who, after everything, was trying to be a better man. He was a better man. A man who controlled his anger, who was denying vengeance for justice, who had settled in with a partner and really began building a life for himself. Bruce wasn’t the sort to load praise, he found words useless and pretty, so he preferred actions. However, he was proud of Jason in a way unique to his children. And now his son, whom he once thought lost, was having two kids of his own. Bruce sighed again.

“I’m not even 50 and you’re making me a grandpa?” He asked, the slightest quirk at the corner of his lip. The couple paused; a loading screen might as well have been floating above their heads.

“So you’re…” you began.

“Not pissed?” Jason finished. Bruce scoffed.

“No. You’re adults, you can make your own decisions.” He said plainly but paused.

“And, for the record, I think you’ll be great parents.” With that he turned back to the computer and set to work again.

“Oh, and congratulations on the engagement.” He yelled over his shoulder. You furrowed your brows.

“How did he- oh, right. World's greatest detective, I forgot.” Bruce snorted to himself at that last part.

“My congratulations to the both of you. How far along?” Alfred said as he approached the new parents to be.

“8 weeks.” You answered smiling brightly, your hand moving to your currently unchanged belly. Something warm lit in Jason’s chest.

“Well, I wish you luck informing the rest of the family, I’m rather thankful we don’t have neighbors. They’re sure to cause quite the ruckus in their excitement.”

“You think they’ll be excited?” You asked anxiously. Jason knew you were worried about your place in his massive and chaotic super family.

“Oh, babe, they’re gonna be through the roof. Two babies? You kidding? There’s gonna be a war from day 1 to be the favorite aunt or uncle.” You smiled, your nerves dying down.

“Everyone will be together for dinner tonight, perhaps you could join us then? I’m making tortellini.” Alfred tempted. Jason suddenly looked like a kid on Christmas.

“Oh, babe, we have to do it. You’ve never had Al’s homemade tortellini, absolutely killer.” You laughed.

“I guess we’ll see you for dinner tonight.”

Note: I know, I knoooow the twin trope is overdone but the image of Jason trying to juggle two toddlers is just too good. I have one more piece drafted then I may write the whole family reveal, but I’m anxious to write that many characters at once. Also I know I have a pretty nice Bruce, but I don't feel like Batman as a character needs to be an absuive ass to his kids to be himself. And again, I'm a new writer so I'm sorry if it's bad lol. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!

#jason todd x reader #Jason Todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x pregnant reader #jason todd x pregnant!reader #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #Jason Todd #red hood #dcu #dc comics #dc #batfam #batman

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theostrophywife · 6 months

Text

kiss with a fist | chapter eight.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: people i don't like - upsahl

author's note: moving it along. can't believe that there's only five more chapters left. this series has been my baby so i'm like in shambles as the end comes closer, but also excited.

The night of the dinner was finally upon you and the amalgamation of dread, trepidation, and wrath clouded over you like a malevolent fog. You weren’t looking forward to it, but you knew that Theo was right. If sitting through one lousy dinner secured a spot with the M.E.S.P, then you would begrudgingly grin and bear it.

Luckily, you wouldn’t have to face it alone. As Luna promised, Harry was waiting for you outside of Professor Slughorn’s office. Harry was dressed in a button down and a dark blazer paired with freshly pressed trousers. Despite his smart attire, his signature messy, black hair and slightly skewed glasses softened his appearance.

Harry smiled, raising his hand in a slight wave. “Hi, Y/N. You look lovely.”

You smoothed the front of your dress, which Pansy had helped you pick out. The fabric was sleek and silky and as dark as night. The front was simple, but the back dipped low and revealed more skin than you were used to. It was completely out of your comfort zone, but Pansy had insisted that you were meant to wear the dress.

“Thanks, Harry. So do you.” You stood up straighter, balancing on your impossibly tall heels—another Parkinson addition, before rolling your shoulders back. “Shall we?”

The inside of Professor Slughorn’s office had been transformed into an entirely different space. Velvet curtains hung from the ceiling and covered the marble columns like tapestry. A round mahogany table sat in the middle of the room and sat upon it were fresh fruits, expensive cheese, and cold cuts. The plates were set in a circular formation and each one contained a placard with a different student’s name.

You took your place, quietly settling in between Harry and a Hufflepuff girl—Melissa? No, Melinda. You remembered that her family owned a large chain of apothecaries.

As you glanced around the table, you realized that while there were at least two or three members from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, there was only one Slytherin in the midst. You weren’t that familiar with Cassius Warrington, but you knew that he was currently being pursued by the Chudley Cannons, which was plenty of incentive for Slughorn to invite him into the mix.

You were well aware that the presence of each student was contingent on the benefits they could help provide Slughorn and vice versa. After all, that was the purpose of the slug club, but facing it head on still made your stomach roil. You barely touched the filet mignon and scalloped potatoes for fear of retching it all back up. The conversations happening around you made it impossible to eat.

It was just endless prattling and bragging on and on about connections and achievements, much to Slughorn’s delight. The superficiality of it all made you nauseous. When McLaggen name dropped his influential uncle for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you nearly pulled your hair out. You watched with a grimace as he lapped up his soup with tiny licks, sort of like a lizard toying with a fly.

Out of instinct, you turned to your right to snicker with Theo only to remember that he wasn’t there, which put you in a foul mood all over again.

“He does love to prattle on, doesn’t he?” Harry muttered in a low voice.

You nodded. “I imagine he only speaks to hear the sound of his own voice.”

“I take it that you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

“If by enjoying you mean considering pulling my eyelashes out one by one, then you would be correct, Potter.”

“Forget the eyelashes. I might pluck my own eyes out all together if I hear McLaggen say my uncle Tiberius one more time.”

You snorted. “If you’re as miserable as I am, then what are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “People expect me to be here. To go on as normal. It’s important to have some semblance of that after last year, I suppose.”

You nodded sympathetically. Everyone looked up to Harry. He was a hero, a practical living legend, the boy who lived not once but twice. You imagined carrying all of that pressure on his shoulders couldn’t have been easy.

“What about you? You’re obviously not enjoying yourself, so why subject yourself to all of this?”

“I want to become a potioneer after I graduate. Slughorn is an influential member of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, which means he’s my key to getting accepted so while this dinner is physically and mentally draining all of my energy, I don’t have much of a choice. Being the first muggleborn member of the society would be monumental. Not just for me, but for other witches in the future."

“I understand,” Harry said with a nod. “You know, Mione’s probably going to be the first muggleborn witch to become Minister of Magic.”

You smiled. While you two weren’t close by any means, you have always admired Hermione. Her academic achievements were the cause of your envy for many years, but after all that she had gone through, you stopped feeling that stab of jealousy.

“The wizarding world would be lucky to have Granger leading it,” you agreed. “Which reminds me, why isn’t she here tonight?”

“She declined the invitation. As did Ron.”

“I can’t blame them. I half expected you to do so as well. The three of you have done enough to last a lifetime.”

“Yes, but like I said. It’s important for me to participate in these things. To boost morale, or so I’ve been told.”

It was fascinating to you that Harry could joke about such things. If you had battled the darkest wizard of all time and lived to tell the tale, you would probably tell everyone to kindly fuck off forever, but you suppose that was the reason why Harry was the chosen one and not you.

“Do you ever feel like you’re still fighting?” you asked. “Voldemort and his followers are either dead or imprisoned, yes. But we’re still rooting out their ideologies to this day and now there’s this new suspicion surrounding an entire house despite the fact the Death Eaters had members from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff too.”

Harry nodded solemnly. “Everyone thinks that the war ended at the Battle of Hogwarts, but in reality, our work is barely beginning. The hardest part is healing. I’ll admit that sometimes it’s hard for me to separate the fact that Tom was a Slytherin with my own biases about the whole house itself, but unlearning all of those misconceptions is a process. It takes a lot to change a person’s perception. We can’t all be as smart and logical as you Ravenclaws.”

“If only, right?” you said with a smile.

“Well, we could always try it your way and threaten to push people off of the bleachers.” His green eyes crinkled with amusement.

You groaned. “I can’t believe you heard about that.”

“I must say, Ron and I had a proper laugh when we heard about it. He still hasn’t forgotten his stay in the hospital wing thanks to Romilda’s tainted chocolate cauldrons.” You grimaced, which made Harry chuckle. “I am sorry about what she said to Pansy though. We aren’t friends by any means, but I’d like to think that we’re at least on civil terms. Luna talks about her fondly and if Parkinson’s got your approval, then it’s safe to assume that she’s treating our friend well.”

“She is,” you agreed. “They are nauseatingly perfect for each other.”

“I’m glad to hear it. We all deserve a little happiness.”

“Speaking of which, how’s Ginny doing?”

The boy who lived blushed furiously. “She’s well. How’s Theo doing?”

You smirked. “Touche, Potter. Touche.”

As the night droned on, you found excuses to visit the refreshment table just to get away from all the insufferable preening. While you fixed yourself a cup of tea, you sensed a presence to your right. Cassius surveyed the variety of teas on the table, but made no move to select any.

“Sorry, am I in your way?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I just needed an excuse to get up.”

You chuckled. “Join the club, Warrington.” He smiled a little as you dropped a sugar cube into your cup. “Congratulations on the recruitment by the way. Your teammates won’t shut up about it.”

Cassius scratched the back of his head, looking a bit shy. “Thanks, Y/N. Everything is still in the negotiation stage, but after the last game, I think my chances are looking good. The boys said you were there for the match.”

“Yeah, I was. This might not mean much since I haven’t watched a game since fourth year, but you guys were great out there. It was bloody brutal. I had a blast.”

“I’m glad to hear that. We do our best to put on a show,” he said. Warrington toyed with his saucer. He looked around before clearing his throat and lowering his voice. “Listen, Y/N. I heard about what you did for Pansy.”

“You and the rest of the school, apparently.”

“I just wanted to say thanks for sticking up for her. Pansy—she—helped me out a lot after my father was imprisoned and I probably wasn’t the only one. Everyone in Slytherin, especially those that were caught in the crossfire last year, owe a lot to her. She’s one of the good ones.”

You nodded, smiling. “I wouldn’t have let her date my best friend if I didn’t think that myself.”

“Luna makes her really happy. I’m glad that they have each other. Pansy earned it.”

“They both did.”

The conversation was cut short as Slughorn tapped his spoon against his goblet. The two of you reluctantly made your way back to the table.

“Thank you all for joining me tonight. It is a great privilege to be able to gather after all that passed last year. I urge you to look around at your fellow witches and wizards, remembering the fallen and celebrating the sacrifices that have all brought us back to this castle. As we commemorate this monumental moment, let us look not to the past but to the future.”

You swirled the glass of sparkling non-alcoholic spritzer, only half listening to the generic drivel that you’ve heard a thousand times before. The more Slughorn talked, the more irritated you felt. There was all this talk of looking to the future, moving on, hoping for a better tomorrow, but what use was that if you couldn’t even fix the present?

Professor Slughorn raised his glass in the air. “A toast to the best of the best.”

That one phrase was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You had no idea why, but those words finally made you crack.

“That’s not right though, is it professor?” The whole table fell silent as every head turned in your direction. “Sure we may be smart, accomplished, but not the best.”

Slughorn reeled back in surprise. His expression faltered before he plastered on a false smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Y/N. All of you worked hard to get here.”

“None of us are even the top student in your class. That would be Theo.” You were vaguely aware that you were raising your voice, but once the words tumbled past your lips, you couldn’t reel them back in. “But he’s not here because surely we can’t invite your star pupil to a slug club dinner if his father is in Azkaban for being a death eater. That would be like inviting the Dark Lord to dinner, but wait. Didn’t you already do that, professor?”

A gasp came from your right. Melinda stared at you as though you’d grown an extra head.

“That’s quite enough, Y/N.”

Your humorless laughter echoed in the cavernous office. “Oh, but I’m just getting started. What was it that you said in your welcoming speech at the beginning of the year? Unity and reconciliation? Surely ostracizing someone for his father’s deeds, which he had nothing to do with by the way, judged and ruled by the Ministry itself, directly contradicts that sentiment, does it not? Or are we all just supposed to ignore this blatant display of discrimination against a perfectly innocent student?”

“Perfectly innocent?” scoffed McLaggen. “Nott comes from a long line of dark wizards as do the rest of the Slytherins. They show you an ounce of kindness and suddenly you become their little muggleborn pet.”

To your surprise, Cassius leapt to his feet. “Don’t call her that,” he nearly growled. “Y/N is just being a good friend. She stood up for Pansy when no one else would and now she’s doing it for Theo, too. You want to compare ledgers, McLaggen? Didn’t your father and uncle conspire to bring the Ministry under the Dark Lord’s control? They armed Voldemort and the Death Eaters then profited off of the war. They deserve to be in Azkaban just as much as my father does, but conveniently their records were wiped clean. Isn’t that why your family moved to France?”

The room was utterly silent. McLaggen looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel, but Cassius wasn’t done. He wheeled around to face the other attendees. “I’m not stupid. I know I was only invited because I’m being scouted by the Cannons, but I hoped that attending would make you see me as someone more than just a Death Eater’s son. I guess I was wrong and now I’m done with this farce. You’ll never stop seeing us as the villains.”

Without waiting for a response, Cassius stormed out of the room. He held his head up proudly, nodding to you and Harry as he made his graceful exit.

“Cassius is right,” Harry declared. “So is Y/N. We can’t crucify every Slytherin for the mistakes of a few. That would make us no better than Voldemort himself. The way I see it, the only way to get to the future we all fought for is to work with our fellow classmates, the Slytherins included. I hope you can learn to look past your biases and false perceptions, just as I’m learning how to.”

Not a single person moved as Harry finished his speech. “Right, well that’s that then.” He turned over to you. “Shall we get going, Y/N?”

“Gladly.”

You pushed your chair back and paid no mind to the burning gazes seared upon your back. Before following Harry out of the office, you leaned in close to McLaggen and lowered your voice so only he could hear. “If you ever speak poorly of my friends again, I’ll dose you with a potion that makes your precious man parts shrivel.”

Cormac paled several shades as you patted him on the shoulder. “Enjoy your dessert, McLaggen. I heard chocolate ganache pairs well with prejudice.”

The castle was quiet at this time of night. You and Harry walked side by side through the dungeons in silence. For someone who just blew up her academic career, you felt fairly calm. You knew that speaking up for your friends was the right thing to do.

“Thank you for speaking up back there,” you said. “You didn’t have to do that. You don’t owe anyone anything after all you’ve done, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

“I do though. Hearing Cassius in there, I realized that the Ministry has failed both sides in a lot of ways. I think we’re all so eager to go back to the way things were before that we’re willing to overlook a lot of things. I’ve never even thought about families like the McLaggens who aided the Dark Lord, but got off with a light sentence. Or people like Cassius and Pansy and Theo who face a lot of unfair judgment from the rest of the wizarding world.”

“That’s the point, Harry. You shouldn’t have to think about it. None of us should. We’re all just children forced to grow up by the war because of the failure of those before us. It’s unfair to be burdened with a load so heavy.”

Harry sighed, nodding. “But if we don’t carry our load, we risk repeating the same mistakes and I won’t have that. We have to do better than the past generations.”

“We will,” you declared. “We have to.”

The torch lights drew shadows across the stone floors as you contemplated.

“You really care about them, don’t you?” It was more a statement rather than a question. You nodded, which made Harry smile. “I can tell that they care about you, too. Especially Theo.”

“We spent years in competition with one another, the classic bitter rivals. It’s kind of ironic that we became friends during our last year here.”

Harry looked at you strangely. “Right, friends…”

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at the green eyed wizard. “What’s that tone for, Potter?”

His mouth quirked. “Nothing, it’s just—well, Theo looks at you like I used to look at Ginny. With pining and yearning, as Mione liked to say. And the way you defended him earlier, Ginny would’ve done the same for me.” You were silent for a moment as you absorbed his words. “A word of advice, Y/N. I know it’s against those Ravenclaw instincts, but sometimes it’s good to get out of your head and tune into your heart instead.”

“Since when did the boy who lived become an expert on all things romance?” you teased.

“A handful of near death experiences really helps put things into perspective.”

You grinned. “I’ll take your word for it, Potter.” The two of you came to a stop at the base of the Ravenclaw Tower. “Well, this is me. Thank you for tonight. I genuinely hope to never do it again.”

Harry laughed. “You and me both, Y/N.”

You raised up on your tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek in thanks, feeling uncharacteristically chipper despite the disastrous dinner. “Good night, Harry.”

He smiled, blushing slightly. “Good night, Y/N.”

As you climbed up the spiraling staircase, you saw a glimpse of snow falling softly over the castle grounds. When you stopped and stared at the glittering landscape, you recalled the other night in Hogsmeade when Theo leaned in to brush the snowflakes off of your lips.

There’s something that I’ve been meaning to tell you.

You were certain that you already knew what Theo was about to say, because you’ve been meaning to tell him the same thing too. When you reached the fifth floor, your grin had grown so wide that your cheeks ached from smiling. As you slipped past the bronze eagle knocker, you caught a glimpse of a discarded bouquet of wisterias peeking out from a nearby trash bin.

With a pause, you plucked a petal off of your favorite flower and tucked it into your braid. You went to sleep that night thinking that Harry was right.

Maybe it was time to let your heart do the talking.

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venuslore · 8 months

Text

𖥔 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍' 𖥔

summary ; steve comes home to find you more than just asleep

pairing ; steve harrington x girlfriend!reader

notes ; female oral seggs, slightly pervy steve, kinda exhibitionism, somnophilia. let me know if i forgot any !

do not transfer, translate or share my works to any other sites.

the air was sticky, cascading a blanket of humidity over your body. a light sheen of sweat present on your now dewy skin. it was hot — too hot for your liking — and you cursed your shitty old air conditioner for breaking at the hottest time of the year.

given your losses, it was enough to warrant your desire of wearing absolutely nothing while having to spend the day cleaning your small apartment. you weren't sure how you had let things get so far behind, but with multiple loads of washing and a kitchen sink filled with dishes, you weren't about to slug yourself around and torture yourself with unnecessary layers of clothing.

you danced around the kitchen, twirling on the tips of your toes as you placed dishes into their designated spots. sticking the occasional finger up at the broken air conditioner for damning you to endure such insufferable temperatures, and for making steve take on more shifts at work so that you could afford to fix it.

after hours of cleaning, the warmth finally starts to take its toll, tiring you out until you couldn't possibly stand on your feet any longer. you seek refuge in the bedroom, falling into a heap on the bed where your book from this morning still laid.

the sheets are soft against your bareness, fitting into every curve and crevice. the window above your bed is open, letting in small gusts of summer as you slowly flip through the pages once more. but not even the words of your favourite author could keep you awake, and your eyes begin to flitter closed.

it's not until the late afternoon that steve finally ventures home from the video store, climbing the staircase in the building and letting out an exasperated sigh when he reaches the door to your apartment. his fingers are tired from constantly prying open video covers and sifting through tapes to scan — all he wants is to see your face.

his shoulders fall when he enters, expecting you to be sitting in the lounge reading a book or baking away in the kitchen like you always were — you loved to surprise him with new recipes — but you weren't doing either of those things.

he's surprised by the silence, and even more so when he makes his way to the bedroom and sees you in bed. the furrow in his brow quickly dissipates, and breath catches in the back of his throat. your face is all cute and puffy as you sleep, lips swollen and cheek squished against your book, but he's mostly surprised by the view he had been granted the second he walked in the door.

another gust of warmth dances across your body, causing your nipples to taut. it was a new sensation, one that you seemed to like, as you stir from your sleep, tossing and turning to get more comfortable atop the sheets. spreading your legs open for some sort of relief while also giving steve the perfect view of your flower as he stands at the foot of the bed. he swallows hard now, his jaw tensing as a heat begins to build up inside his pants, his member straining against the compact of his jeans.

there was nothing steve loved more than the sight of you opening up for him, showing off your velvety centre and letting him bury his head between your thighs. he loved the sight of you — the taste of you on his tongue — and as he stood there watching as you had unintentionally given him the thing he desired the most, he couldn't not think about how you tasted in that moment.

slowly, he slips off his shoes, unbuckles his belt and lets his jeans fall to the floor in a heap, giving his shaft some release as a growl forms in the back of his throat. his family video vest and polo shirt following suit, and with careful motions, he crawls across the bed towards your middle.

he wanted, no needed, you on his tongue now.

he moves forward enough to wrap his hands around the underside of your thighs, large fingers holding them apart in case you felt the urge to close them on him. then, taking in the sight of your beautiful sleeping face once more, knowing how much you were going to love his little wake-up, and with a smirk splayed across his lips, he slowly swipes his tongue across your goodness.

he revels in the taste of you. sweet on his tongue and already slightly wet. you must've been having a good dream.

it takes you a moment, slowly stirring from your sleep, grasping at the sheets around your head while steve laps up your taste. he begins to move his tongue at a faster pace now, making sure to get you nice and wet before starting on your sweet little bundle of nerves.

the instant contact sends a rush of goosebumps across your skin and sets you alight with ecstasy, a whimper leaving your lips as you finally come to. your chest is heaving, rising and falling so dramatically that it takes you a moment to collect yourself.

"w-when did you get home?" you ask between heavy pants, a moan escaping you at the end when he hits your most sensitive spot.

he pulls his tongue away momentarily and you instantly regret asking the question, wanting his touch back on you. his hair tickles your thighs as he moves to press a chaste kiss on your lips, letting you get a small taste of yourself, "a few minutes ago. i couldn't resist..." he smirks before delving right back into your sweetness, this time with the help of this thumb on your clit as he works magic on your core.

"well, i'm glad you couldn't - fuck, stevie." you cut yourself off, the pleasure consuming your every last thought.

steve rubs small circles on the nub, as he tongue-fucks your hole, insatiable moans leaving you. your back arches, hips jutting, and fingers snaking through his hair, gripping onto the loose chocolatey curls as he pushes you closer to your high.

“fuck, right there,” you cry as the pressure grows, a pulsing inside daring to break free.

you can feel the ball inside your stomach, a coil begging to snap, as your hips jut into steve’s face once more. hands now grabbing at the sheets, the pillows, anything to help you ride it out. “god, you’re so fucking beautiful.” steve mumbles, his big brown eyes staring up at you through his lashes and dishevelled hair.

it’s then that the orgasm hits, crashing down over you like a wave as you hold his gaze. he doesn't take his eyes away for so much as a second. he watches you intently, thumb still working you as his tongue licks up your slick. the only sound in your otherwise quiet apartment is the mixture of moans and curses leaving your lips.

steve doesn't stop, wanting you to get the most out of your orgasm, as he takes in the sight of your shaking body. your eyes now rolling into the back of your head as your mouth forms the most perfect 'o' shape. it was a sight he would never get sick of, one that would continue to consume his every thought for as long as he lived.

as your high comes to an end, steve can feel you pulsating on his tongue and presses a soft kiss to you before eventually pulling away. a roguish grin immediately takes hold as he moves to lay with you, slumping down on the sheets.

still breathless, you pant, "that was the best wake-up i've ever had."

"maybe you should be naked when i come home more often," he chuckles softly, brushing the hair from his forehead.

turning to him, a smile present on your lips, you say, "maybe i should."

#— ꒰ ‧ ₊˚ vee daydreams ˖꙳‧ ꒱#steve harrington ᰔ #— not sfw ! ᰔ #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut

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